Childhood at a Glance (The Ball Pit)

Spring of 1998. I'm seven. I have been invited to a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheeses. Not by the birthday girl, of course, but her grandmother who is friendly with my grandmother.

I get there...my head spins. Kids, games, noise. Woo. No escape pods. Ten seconds in and I am already a bit overwhelmed, but hopeful. I eye the animatronics warily. Suspicion and fascination converge. I watch as a small group of children laugh and climb onto the stake. Poke the purple guy in the face while their mother's tell them to knock it off with little conviction. It soon becomes evident that the act is very limited. Repetitive.

We're given a pocket full of coins and thrown to the wolves. I walk around in a loud, brightly lit daze. Small children run past me in a shrieking blur. Older children push me out of their way. I try to anticipate their movements and side step away. We end up doing an awkward sort of dance before they shove past me.

The floor is carpet and covered in stains. The air is thick with pizza and something familiar that I can't quite identify. I decide to run around. Try too look busy. Like I have somewhere to be. I feel awkward just walking and standing around. I rarely look up from the ground when I walk or run. I run right into the giant rat. Stand there stunned, staring up at it. I have always hated these things (with the exception of Goofy from Disney World). I know that they are just people in costumes. Not real giant rats, or mice, or dogs. My issue is that I don't know who is in the costume. The rat tries to hug me. I flinch and push it away. Run in the opposite direction.

I wander around. Find an area with few people. Spend half of my coins on wack-a-mole and earn eleventy bajillion tickets. Stuff them into my pockets. I play until other kids get angry and complain. Lecture me on turn taking. And then I play some more. I play until one boy has his mother come over to tell me off. I look around...spot something interesting and empty. A ball pit. No one is in it. I take off my shoes and jump in.

I LOVE it. The sensation. Being pressed on at all sides. It's wonderful. Clears my head. Makes my body stop feeling foreign and twitchy. I jump around. Whoop. Marvel at the fact that I can still ear myself over the noise. At some point...older kids show up and I am surrounded. They are laughing and yelling and shoving each other. Tossing balls. I try to climb out and make a break for it. A hand closes around my ankle and I am pulled back in. They're giggling. Blocking off my escape. I feel myself being pulled under. The sound muffles. It gets difficult to breathe. I panic. Scream.

They're jumping around above me. A foot connects with my side, another steps on my face. I can't stand up. I'm lying on the bottom of the pit and wonder how long it will take for me to suffocate. Another foot connects with my eye and I try to hang on to it. Maybe it'll pull me to the surface. Suddenly, the jumping stops. The laughter stops. All I can hear is my rapidly beating heart. And then a hand grabs me underneath my armpit and jerks me up. I look around and a the group of teenagers are standing at the side of the pit looking confused. I am led away by the man still hanging on to my arm while one boy says "I didn't even know she was in there.".