My eldest son’s birthday occurred the other day. He is now a year closer to obtaining his driver’s license, acquiring firearms, drinking alcohol, voting, and getting married. That’s a somewhat unsettling thought. Hopefully, when that day comes, he will not become intoxicated, acquire a firearm, go out driving and end up married, all on the same day. Voting, of course, is irrelevant to my concern. One can vote, inebriated or not, and the end result seems to be basically the same.
Anyway, due to his patient insistence, we caved in and took him to a very interesting establishment for his birthday evening. I will refrain from specifying the exact name of the place for legal reasons. To give you a clue, though, if the place existed in France, it would be called Charles E. Fromage. However, I doubt it would be allowed to exist in France. Anyone wanting to build a Charles E. Fromage there would probably be either executed on the spot or stripped of their citizenship and slapped about the face.
When we entered the building, I was impressed by the overwhelming number of lights. They blinked, flashed, strobed, stuttered, and crescendoed and decrescendoed in rapid succession like a thousand sunrises and sunsets played back at hyper-speed. I was sure my children would immediately start experiencing seizures, but they proved to be immune. The place was also filled with a great deal of noise. It sounded like a subway station at rush hour if you had suddenly introduced several dozen rabid weasels in order to enliven the crowd on the platform.
Oddly enough, my children enjoyed the experience. I’m always pleased when they’re having fun, so, afterward, I promised them that we would come again in about ten years time.