Actually, the madness I'm speaking of is pretty much the exact opposite.
It's the midnight game release madness I'm referring to, and it's some nutty sh**.
After being forced to experience one myself (aka Hubby moaned and groaned about getting Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 just enough that I felt sorry for him and agreed to stop into Hellmart, I mean Walmart, on my way home from working the night shift) I'm convinced that everyone should go to one of these midnight game releases at least once in their lifetime.
It introduces you to an American subculture most of us didn't even know existed. A secret society of plaid shoe sporting, beret wearing, wannabe-special-agent-dorks that rarely venture into mainstream society, meaning they don't often come outta their basements during the daylight when us mortals are conducting human business.
They have little knowledge about what's acceptable physical appearance (a beret? Really? An effing beret? On a grown up dude?). They have little respect for personal hygiene (I know beards are in, but seriously, trim that thing, it looks like you have a sloth dangling from your chin. Oh, and it sorta *sniff, sniff* smells like it too). And, they honestly conduct the most ridiculous conversations I've ever heard ("Hey Bro, you haven't been on the game in 58 days, what' up with that?" Is knowing that particular stat a legitimate use of brain space?).
They are like a strange breed of vampires only not as cool, nowhere near as strong, and with reflexes more like those of a cow than those of a cat. But, I bet they could easily see in the dark just as well.
I do have to give it up for the amount of strategizing going on, not only with regards to future game play, and by future I mean the very moment they cross the threshold into their homes, but also the strategy involved in simply obtaining a copy of the most anticipated game of the year (that's what I'm told).
There were groups of friends who were posted at various locations throughout the town, each armed with a hand held electronic communication device (known to us laymen as a cell phone), to instantly notify others the moment they have confirmed the existence of multiple targets (aka games) so that all parties could quickly converge upon that spot.
The true heroes were those few, brave soles who were able to obtain illegally prereleased copies from classified locations for classified prices at classified times. Everyone (except for me of course) starred in awe, and listened to the harrowing retelling of the fateful Recognizance Mission (aka getting the game black market style by kicking down an extra $20 to the 17 year old douche who really couldn't care less).
I know I sound harsh (perhaps even downright mean), but so be it. After the evil I experienced there I think I'm entitled, just a bit, to trash talk the legions of malodorous, men of the night. Besides, it's not like any of them are gonna see this since now that the game came out the only thing they'll be using the Internet for is to check strategy guides on how to find the hidden level between levels three and four.
Obviously, I was in my own little corner of Hell as I waited in that line Monday night into what is technically considered to be Tuesday morning, watching it swell to over 70 people.
And, the worst part about this (other than the fact that I had to stand there and watch this freak show in action) was that it totally could have been avoided had Hubby simply preordered the correct copy of the game (apparently there is a super pack that comes with, get this, night vision goggles! But, to get it you had to say way, way back during dinosaur time that you wanted it otherwise, NO GOGGLES FOR YOU!).
In Hubby's defense, he was not given all of the information (the dude at the place didn't offer the Prestige Edition as they're calling it) so he placed his order normally and went on his extremely-happy-you-realize-this-isn't-real-don't-you? way.
When he learned of his mistake he was
Or, so I thought.
After waiting in the line to Hell for over an hour I realized that, despite what the misinformed, asleep on the job, Walmart employee told me on the phone, there were no night vision goggles to be had (GRRRRR!!!).
I texted Hubby: No effing goggles, looks like I've been played.
Hubby replied: You can leave & we can pick it up tomorrow, I have non-goggles edition reserved (at separate location).
I responded in outrage: Um, hell to tha no...I waited in line w/these douches 4 more than hour. Will buy anyway. I ain't going out like no punk.
Hubby pleads: Calm down champ. Already put $5 down. Just say no & go.
I pressed on: Nope. Not gonna B the loser who leaves empty handed. I'm getting a game. Gotta win. Can't lose. I'm #1. Over and out.
Hubby: That's my girl. You show 'em.
And, just like that I became one of them, you know, for him.
He's enjoying it thoroughly (he effing better be at least).
Don't worry, I'm back to my old self now and there is no way you're gonna catch me in plaid shoes or a beret. Ever.
I ain't goin' out like no punk!