Abominable Snow Monster; Dysentery

I submit that people don't love the computer game SkiFree as much as they say they do.

Dispositions will brighten and eyes will widen whenever the subject is broached during conversation, but nostalgia is like that; it romanticizes the past because we're disillusioned with the present.

Jumping those multi-colored ramps was kind of cool, I guess, and so was making the dog pee in the snow. But aside from that, it was only "fun" because it was less boring than any of those other old Windows 95 games. It's like standing next to an ugly person -- by default, you are instantly more attractive. Minesweeper was that ugly person.


Oregon Trail was more entertaining, but only by a very slim margin. Again, this is another game that benefits from the influence of outside, and otherwise unrelated, circumstances.

It's "fun" in the semantical sense that it's, by definition, a game. But more to the point, it's "fun" because it let us play on the computer in class (computers in the classroom was a rarity for me as a 3rd grader, but I imagine nowadays in futuristic 2008, they're ubiquitous) and, mercifully, it wasn't math. So once again, default.

It's funny, though, how the (imaginary) responsibilities I'm burdened with in Oregon Trail far succeed the (very real) responsibilities I have in my own life.

In the game, not only do I have to account for myself, but also the well-being of my entire family (I just played it online last night and I named my three children Latrell, Carmelo, and Kwame). Before heading out on the trail, I have to wisely budget $400 between oxen, spare wagon parts, food, ammunition, and clothing. Certain life-or-death decisions present themselves during the course of our trip, like what pace to travel in, how much food should be rationed out, to wade or not to wade across a 3-foot deep river, and what to do when Kwame comes down with cholera.

In my real life, I don't have anyone else to worry about -- not even so much as a pet goldfish -- but myself. Even if I did have a family of my own, I wouldn't plan any cross-country relocations. I typically have more than $400 at my disposal at any given time, and when it's time to spend some of it, I have the freedom to use it on something worthwhile (i.e. Nike Force Court Lows) and not on something retarded (i.e. an emergency wagon wheel). The only trail I'm going to be blazing today is from my front door to my mailbox, and then back again.

I assume the purpose of Oregon Trail is teaching you how to handle the challenges of budgeting, accountability, time management, and self-sufficiency. As it were, my life experiences as a 23-year-old have only prepared me for this game slightly more than my life experiences as a 13-year-old.

And if anyone is in the mood to play it again, here's a link: http://www.virtualapple.org/oregontraildisk.html

You'll get sick of it quick, but it'll be a solid 5 minutes or so before that happens.