There used to be these trading cards for the video game Pac-man.
Most trading cards just had pictures and a stick of gum. The crappy kind that they would put in them that only seemed to be available in card packs.
A lot of the card packs, if you collected enough, the backs of them would create a picture of some kind. Like a puzzle that you would put together to make one giant picture.
During the heyday of video games in arcades, Nintendo trading cards came out. The most popular one to me being Pac-man.
They weren’t the same as the others. They even had a sort of lottery card like element added to them. Basically, one card would look like a grid from the pacman game, and you would scratch off some of the larger “pellets” on it to see what was behind it.
On top of that, all the artwork was just really cool. Me and all my friends thought that the new 8-bit graphics that these arcade games had were just genius. We tried to emulate those particular styles in our own drawings and artwork.
The reason I bring all this up is because I was thinking today about these cards. It occurred to me that it was the first, and only time, that I can remember I ever stole something.
I’ve by no means been an angel my entire life. But I recalled the one time I stole a pack of these cards and how I really felt bad about it.
There was a convenience store that me and my friends would hang out in front of. Kind of the same way Jay & Silent Bob hang out in front of the convenience store in the movie Clerks.
We would spend the entire day there, to the point where we had made friends with the teenage girl that worked behind the counter.
One day, I wanted to get another pack of cards. Now, I don’t remember if I didn’t have the money or if I was just dared to do this, but I went into the convenience store and put a pack of those cards into my shirt.
Not only was this a dumb thing to do– I was really bad at it. Why would I stuff them in my shirt instead of putting them in my pocket? They’re cards?!
So as I’m walking out of the store, trying to act all nonchalant, the girl behind the counter was looking at me and I started to get nervous and felt guilty. I think she could tell by the look on my face that something was up, but didn’t know what.
Then karma decided to kick in. As I almost made it out the door, the cards that I loosely placed inside of my shirt just fell out.
The girl behind the counter couldn’t believe that I tried to do this. I had never felt so ridiculous. All I could think about was what was the point of doing this? Why did I even do it? The thrill of it was there at first I’m sure, but I don’t remember that. I do remember the feeling of getting caught.
I could never show my face there again. The rest of the summer we hung out in front of a store in another part of the neighborhood.
Still really dig those cards though.