You know how in cartoons the greedy characters will have dollar signs appear in their pupils? Or when someone is really angry we say that the person is seeing red? For some reason the line “while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads” also comes to mind. I’m pretty sure my husband and son had visions of antique arcade games dancing in their heads, or maybe it was a yellow Pac Man that had taken over their black pupils. It was one of the those two when we stopped again in Colorado.
We had stopped off in a little town, and while I was talking about locating the picturesque little natural spring fountains that give the town its claim to fame, the Pac Man Pupils had already taken over. I’m pretty sure the two males in our little family had already decided the tiny town’s claim to fame was the multi-room antique penny arcade.
After my daughter had checked out a dozen or so of those rides you used to see outside Walmart—the rocking bear; the vibrating fire truck—the enthusiasm was waning on my and her end. We both had normal, black pupils. Inside the arcade the glare of bright lights from machines was bouncing off the female members of my little family like the glare of sunlight off water straight into your eyes: pretty, but can we make it stop now?
It had been a long day.
First We Went To Pike’s Peak
No, we didn’t do any hiking. Yes, I know, lame. That wasn’t exactly something we felt like doing in the chilly, misty fog with a six and nine-year-old. Even my boots didn’t feel they were missing out, not when we could drive above the clouds in half an hour. Driving up to 14,000 feet is nothing to scoff at, after all. Our van was quite proud of herself, and she didn’t even burn out her brakes on the way down.
Everyone was happy. Especially the wind. It whipped up my hair into such a mess it seemed likely I could be mistaken for a sasquatch. The children were happy because there were little patches of snow up there, and snow is just the best thing ever...when you can drive back down an hour later and leave it behind.
But Back To The Penny Arcade
“We will just wait in the van,” I said, and I received a distant grunt from a mind somewhere buried inside a game with a large busted cartoon woman and an excessively muscular cartoon man dressed in posh 1970’s clothes on its glass case.
My daughter and I sat down in the fabulously sit-able seats of the van, which hugged me like something that really understands that humans need rest. My daughter, at the invincible age of six, bounced about in the space behind my seat. Night had set in. We watched the townsfolk walk up and down the sidewalk next to where we were parked on the main street. The townsfolk were oblivious to our presence inside the dark van.
I was just starting to dose, when my daughter suddenly shoved a little finger in front of my face while pointing it at the direction of my window.
“Who’s that?” she said in her cute voice that still does not quite have adult enunciation.
Walking on the sidewalk next to the van was a burly man in khaki pants smudged up with mystery grime, and legs that swaggered slowly within them. On his face was a Jason mask.
“That is what we call ‘a weirdo.’”
We watched him slowly walk up the street. People stared awkwardly. A golden retriever barked at him; he barked back. He faded out of view. I rested my eyes.
“He’s back!” she shout-whispered several minutes later as she ducked down a little. I opened my eyes to see him making his way back, still oblivious to our presence. He now had heavy metal blaring from his cellphone, which he held directly in front of his face as though the music was going to meld the mask to his skin.
“Lovely,” I grumbled.
He made his appearance four more times, as the street became nearly empty. Then the street was entirely empty, except for Jason taking his repetitive evening stroll.
“When is he going to stop?” she asked anxiously.
Hopefully when he trips on his dirty too-long khakis and his mask provides zero padding to prevent him breaking his face.
I didn’t say that, but I waited and watched with hopeful expectation. We didn’t have a lot of time to wait through, because my husband and son returned with squinty eyes but looks of deep satisfaction at some point in between Jason's strolls by us. As we started the engine the police rolled up. I guess someone decided Jason had done enough strolling from one evening.
So, if you ask me what Manitou Springs, Colorado is about, I would say the naturally carbonated springs. If you asked the boys, they would say the penny arcade. If you asked my daughter, she would say it is the place where horror movie characters live.
Manitou Springs is the home of Jason.
Then it was time to kiss the Rocky Mountains goodbye and go look for a little dog named Toto…