I totally remember the day I got my first Pokemon game. I got Pokemon Ruby at EB, had it pre-ordered for months. I only got to watch the show up until that point, since my parents would never buy me a GBC. I had saved up though, got a GBA, and was ready to play my first Pokemon game.
It was a strange, overcast day. The kind of day where you feel a bit hungover from the night before and every step is just slightly uncomfortable. It isn't totally cloudy outside, but not completely sunny either, so you feel a bit dissatisfied with the weather. It was mid-March, when Winter is over, but Spring hasn't started yet, and everything felt wrong. I should have been much happier to get my very first Pokemon game. Instead, I just wanted to pick it up and get the whole ordeal over with.
I walked in and half-heartedly asked for the game. The clerk half-heartedly handed it over. The box was kinda dumb looking and forced me to reflect whether I was getting to old for this shit. None of this would matter later on. None of this would account for anything the day I die.
I wasn't feeling much of anything for my acquisition, though I had built the moment up in my head for months. Watching the show, I jotted down the names of Pokemon that I would like to capture and put in my party. I liked the red ones that look like dinosaurs the best.
As I walked outside of EB, I finally had a surge of feeling. In my right cheek. My wife's ex-husband had found me. Still bitter about catching me in bed with her while they were still married, no doubt. Dazed and unable to comprehend what was happening for a few seconds, I let in a few more punches as he shouted angry obscenities at me. My Ebgames bag hit the ground and in the shuffle, he unwittingly stepped all over it and crushed the box. We exchanged blows, but it wasn't a normal fight. He had intended to punctuate his bitter memories with my death.
To be continued....