The chubby little kid – reminiscent of an even less handsome Chris Farley – races through the elementary school gym exit. His breathing is labored thanks in part to his heavy backpack full of school supplies and the lingering effects of too many Happy Meals and Fruit Rollups…but also because he is so excited he can barely contain himself.
As he pops open the door and hustles towards his mom’s giant conversion van, the rush of air created by his desperate sprint catches his blonde, fashion-filled (hauntingly wiener-like) chili bowl haircut and sends it dancing amok above his head.
He leaps into the back of the van and before he can even sit down in his seat, asks the question he’s been dying to ask all day.
“Mom, can we go to Toys R Us?! [Insert friend’s name] said they have the new [insert totally bitchin’ toy from the early to mid-90’s]! Please! PLEASE!!!”
With a defeated sigh and why-the-hell-not smile, Mom agrees to take her little Pillsbury Dough Boy to his favorite store in the whole wide world.
Upon reaching the destination and seeing that glorious, colorful sign, the kid shoots out of the van like a damn cannon before the van is even properly parked, followed by shouts from his mother to watch for cars.
With eager legs moving up and down in place like a jogger at a stop light, the boy waits for his mom to catch up, grab a cart, and lift his not-so-light frame into the wheeled merchandise wielder. At the front of the cart, leaning forward in triumphant fashion, the boy felt like Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic communicating with his big smile that at that very moment he felt like the king of the world! (The boy may have been a lot younger when he rode in the cart than when he had the haircut, but for nostalgic purposes, we’re mashing all these memories into one. So just roll with it okay?)
Rolling through the aisles was like an adventure straight out of a dream world. All the colors, sights, sounds, and even smells created an experience that quite possibly used magic as the key ingredient that tied it all together. From giant stuffed animals, Power Wheels, Nintendo games, roller blades, and anything and everything in between, it was quite simply a kid’s paradise.
The boy loved it all. But what he loved most were the action figures. He spent countless hours on the floor playing out fantasy battles with his GI Joe’s, transforming laser-toting robots into cars, and exploring a galaxy far, far away with his Star Wars toys. They opened his mind to an imagination that would serve him later on in life (but was far less tainted by odd perversions back then).
And once super mom completed her quest to ferry her son to the aisle of action figure Valhalla and helped the not-so-little-boy out of the cart, it was as if the welcoming gates to toy heaven opened up – complete with angelic background music and glowing white light behind the items he so craved. There was nowhere else the boy would rather be.
He looked through row upon row of different carded packages to look for characters he didn’t have. The anticipation of discovering what he would reveal on every peg put his excitement into maximum overdrive until he had searched through every single item. And then he would do it all again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He could’ve spent hours in there, and probably, on more than one occasion, actually did.
After this chubby little champion selected his brand spanking new plaything, he hoisted it high in the air as if it were a trophy and put it in the cart formerly occupied by him. And just as eagerly as he went into the store, he was now twice as eager to get out so he could get home and enjoy his new imagination enhancer (toy).
Once he finally arrives home, he can barely keep his hands still as he races into the living room, plops down on the floor, and begins to tear away at the packaging – but still being careful enough to preserve the box since it’s totally rad – to reveal his new action filled figurine.
From there, it was all imagination for hours and hours. And hours. Plus a few minutes after that.
This may come as a shock to most of you, but that joyous, flabby little young’un experiencing the pure happiness of a Toys R Us visit was none other than this now super chiseled (not even close) man boy writing this very sentence.
I would call it an understatement that the recent bad news surrounding my former favorite store gives me a deep sense of sadness. Granted – since I’m a grown ass man and all – I don’t have much of a relationship with the retailer any more other than a few visits around Christmas to look for presents for my nephew and Salvation Army Angel Tree kids…and to soak up some nostalgia for myself every now and then. But much like Blockbuster before it, Toys R Us was a huge part of my childhood, and to see it dying before my very eyes, makes my child like heart ache something fierce.
But those happiness-filled experiences as the ones described above will always be some of my favorite memories. They remind me of simple, innocent times when using my imagination and simply embracing the joys being a kid were my only responsibilities.
Hearing about the organization’s impending doom prompted me to go give the store one last visit earlier this week. As I got out of my car and looked up at the big, colorful sign, the familiar tingly feelings from long ago made a little cameo. That made me smile. When I walked through the automatic door to enter the building (pretending like I was using The Force to open it like I used to) and took in the vast view of the toy kingdom, another wave of nostalgia reared back and slapped me in the face and left me with another smile. I strolled through the aisles and took it all in. I would occasionally close my eyes and imagine what the store looked like when I was a kid.
Then my favorite thing about my visit happened. I saw little elementary school-aged kids running around with looks of wonder and excitement stamped on their faces. Rampaging through the store like little maniacs, they looked at the biggest toys in every aisle and made overenthusiastic comments about how amazing they were. I heard a lot of “Whoa!” and “Mom, can I get this one?!” and “This is so COOL!” Oh, and one little kid even looked at me and asked “What’s this creepy ass Kmart version of Matt Damon looking bastard doing in here?”
More smiles.
After making the rounds and experiencing these magical aisles one last time, I decided it was time to leave. I walked through the door (didn’t use the Force this time) and turned around to look at that big beautiful sign from up close for quite possibly the last time ever.
I felt one final nostalgic smile crawl widely across my face. Then I felt my mouth move. And heard myself whispering a familiar jingle.
“I don’t wanna grow up, I’m a Toys R Us kid…”