It really was a creepy hotel and to this day I'm not sure if the entry where the video games were located was an actual entrance or just a weirdly oriented lobby cut off from the actual reservations desk. No one was ever there, no one ever came to see what we were doing and no one but us ever randomly wandered through. In hindsight it was kind of like a secret lobby for kids that no adults knew existed. Odd.
Anyway, we used to hit the Lucky Dollar convenience store, buy a bottle (glass mind you with a proper metal cap) of coke, a chocolate bar and usually some gum. Out of the two dollars I started with I'd have 75 cents leftover. The owner's son, Raymond, was often working in the store. He was one of those people that are hard to peg cause he was sort of old (compared to us kids) but still acted like a kid when we were in there. Quite often, if we entertained him with a conversation for a bit then he'd give us free stuff. So, naturally, given my gift for the gab we frequently left with more than we paid for!
We'd then head across the street to the hotel and in through the "front door". Empty, usually cold, which in the summer was good but in winter was kind of a drag, and we'd have the place to ourselves. Bill and I could make 25 cents each last at least 30 mins, sometimes 45. Kyle wasn't as good and usually didn't have the money so he'd just watch, drink his illicit coke (he was Mormon and Coke/caffeine is forbidden) and cheer us on. I used to love getting the special automatic fire bubble prize thingy. Then you didn't have to waste energy banging away on the button you could just hold it down and marvel at the magnificent steady stream of killer bubbles! Awesome.
Eventually the money would run out and we'd be forced to go back onto the street, cause hanging out in the Hotel without playing the game just seemed wrong somehow. There was a bench back across the street, just down from Lucky Dollar and we'd usually camp out there and watch folks driving around and shopping. After a while we'd decide to move and either walk off or, if we'd brought our bmx bikes we'd ride off.
It's amazing to me that that corner, Lucky Dollar, the Hotel and Main Street are all so crystal clear in my mind. Yup, I loved Vulcan.
1 comment:
Howlin Mad Murdoch,
I marvel at the universality of the "Vulcan experience" we share; for what you've written here and other reasons ;o} . I understand the nostalgia of those days, sometimes I even long for the simplicity of life we shared – such as life. My group of friends from those lazy days in the 80’s still know and hang out with each other. We marvel at the notion that our children have all growing up knowing each other, forming their own friendships…
Back in September we had a reunion (of sorts) back in Vulcan. We spent three days wondering the streets, eating crab apples, reliving fond memories, playing board games in the library, drinking at the bar – we even managed to get in a round of golf on a course that I swear we could almost play blindfolded.
The town seems smaller, quieter. A lot of what we took for granted is gone now. No more Pop Shop, no more Lucky Dollar. The Hotel is still there but I didn’t check the lobby for a video game ;o} .
Thanks for your post here, I really enjoyed the stroll down memory lane.
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