Which I did just yesterday.
It all began when I promised two of my "clients" that I would sponsor their D & D club. I'm not kidding: up to and above THREE of them have been carrying around books about it and spend all of their free time designing characters. "I mean, we could be out there playing Halo or getting drunk, right, Dr.____?" "Uhh...yeah...I guess you are right." The Freaks and Geeks episode went through my mind, as well the faces of all those kids in the 80s who were both D & D champions and complete and utter outcasts. But I am a champion of outcasts, eight? See all those posts about trolls, etc.
Mind you, I haven't really played the game very much. I know a little about it, but in the 80s my thing was fantasy sc-fi novels. A Spell for Chameleon! Bio of a Space Tyrant! Caves of Steel! Why play a game when you can READ about it and imagine the action on the page? Of course, my clients saw it the opposite way: why read about it when you can write your own characters and action yourself?
So I avoided the shame all those years. Until now.
The first thing I did--stupidly--was walk into TL Bookstore on Main and request the "D & D section." Our good friend Cl__ LAUGHED IN MY FACE, as did B___y from behind the counter, and a customers. Cl___ said, and I directly quote, "Take your ass down to the comic book store. We don't carry that shit!"
They were still laughing as we proceeded to QC comics, the rain outside cold and disapproving : was this some sort of mission/test that my "character" had to endure? We pushed the door open, convinced that at least here we would not be met so ridiculed.
It was filled with the usual nerds, some hunched over giant white boxes, others cradling glossy stacks of the latest issues as if holding newborn babes. P tried to warn me: "Uhhhh....no, I don't think..." But I had already asked, loud and proud, if there was D & D here. The comic book guy barely looked up and merely thumbed in the direction of that gaming store down by Aldi Foods.
Fuck. It was at least three or four blocks down. But oh well. P's shoes were soaked because he only owns one pair and they have holes in them. I was feeling really sorry for putting him through this ordeal. We were also going to be late in getting Cl__, who was supposed to meet us at Amy's in a few minutes. But we had to complete the mission!
We trudged down the street, and by now I was really glad that I wasn't alone. As we crossed the threshold, I thought, "Either this is certain doom or it's going to be the most welcoming place in the whole city."
The first thing that hit me was the smell. The tiny little gaming store does not have enough fresh air inside of it to sustain twelve 15-year old boys' air supply, let alone thin out their massive B.O. These kids were loud and entirely oblivious. Some were playing video games, some were arguing over game details. One was ferociously insisting that "If that's the rule, that's NOT what they said in Chicago!" Obviously, some inveterate game expert at GameCon Chicago had implanted orthodoxy in his head and Mr. Clueless didn't see the light.
The owner was just as you'd expect: pale and unhealthy looking, yet strangely exuberant for being in his element. Unlike Comic Book Guy, this man loved his customers, and even allowed them to eat subs and drink soda. He had provided chairs to some of them, and, as it was closing time, let them store their bikes in the basement ("Do you think he calls it The Dungeon?" asked P). One of the kids was joking around with a friend about how he was going to fuck someone "with no condom and no KY." "No, he's not," quipped Cl___ later on, after we told her about them. "He's really...not."
The owner pointed out the D & D section and we cut through the B.O. with out invisible swords. There was just so much from which to choose! I at least knew that I wanted version 3.5, not the most recent one. But did I want the Monster Manual? Were there individual campaigns that I could buy for the "clients"? Some unrelated Lovecraft games caught my eye, as well as Moorcock's Elric series made into RPGs. What a world.
From a high shelf I brought down a dusty box that contianed a) the Player's Manual, b) all the dice (4, 6, 8, 10, 12, and 20-sided), and c) a dozen Abberations (mini figurines of varying origins) which could serve as visual references. Everybody knew that an actual green fire-breathing dragon wasn't necessary, and there was no board, moreover, so it was all about collection the total of 60, I think, and placing them--where? Where the fuck in my house am I going to put these things? Oh, I know: next to my Gummy Mummy, coyote skull, handcuffs, survival knives, gas mask, and Alien facehugger! You know, in the room that I keep closed when entertaining mixed company? Out of shame?
I didn't have cash. "Uh..." P scrambled for it, as the owner looked really impatient. As P counted out singles I asked the guy if I could come back tomorrow. "We're not open tomorrow." "Well, on Tuesday." "We're not open Tuesday." Oh--apparently Wed-Sun is when their beacon shines through the dark Buffalo night, as this is when teens have time off from school or are the most likely to skip. Patrick had only $29 and it was $35. "Just take it," the guy said. He didn't. Even. Ring. It. Up. He waved us out as if he didn't want the kids to see, or, more plausibly, didn't want to keep any record that this sort of thing ever existed in his store. As we walked back in the now pouring rain, it occurred to me that to be truly cool I wouldn't have bought the game there, I would have ordered a classic one from eBay or already owned it--I was of the age, after all. There was just no being cool today. Just shame. In the rain. The man hadn't offered a bag, either, and I think we know why.
"I guess I better hold the box on this side," I said, shifting it out of eyesight from the cars, each set of headlights coming out of the drizzle like... dragon eyes. The little pieces inside made a crunching noise as they hit the side of the cardboard. This sound echoed louder than I could ever have imagined. "Crunch. Shame. Crunch. Shame..." I asked P if we should put the box in his car before meeting Cl__ at the diner. He was nice enough to say no. And to continue walking next to a grown-ass man carrying a D & D set.
