The Comeback Arcade

If walls could talk, oh boy, if they could talk... Wait? Can you hear me? Am I actually able to communicate? This is fantastic! I’ve been waiting years for this to happen.

Now, where do I begin? Do I start at the beginning when my foundation was first set, and the day my walls were built up? No… That’d be too boring. From the sweaty men in hard hats laboring away as they created every inch of me, and the potential buyers doing walkthroughs and checking out all the space I had to offer. There’s no story there.

The real story begins when I got my first owner. I didn’t know what my purpose was, but after I was purchased, I knew I had great things in store for me. It was the autumn of 1981 when he purchased me. Jacoby Klyde toured my structure three times, unsure if I had what it took to become his place of business. Eventually, a deal was made, the keys were handed off, and it was the start of something new.

Three days after the purchase, the real hustle and bustle began. Jacoby and some other men started decorating my walls. Bright and vibrant colors were smeared over my pasty white sides and the dust was swept from my floors. After the paint dried, they started hanging up posters of all shapes and sizes along with bright neon lights, consisting of green, blue, and pink colors. My main light fixtures were tampered with, dimming them, so the neon lights could make a bolder statement.

After my interior was completely renovated, I looked stunning. Jacoby began bringing in equipment to fill the empty space. I was curious about the slightly curved, artistic devices. Some were solid colors with logos and names on certain parts. Others were adorned with intricate, detailed artwork and buttons, as well as strange sticks with bulbous heads in various color combinations.

Jacoby spent days setting up multiple of these types of contraptions throughout my structure. He placed several power strips around the facility, plugging in each electronic one by one. Soon all fifteen of them were set up, bringing a new type of glow to the building. They were all uniquely different, their screens flashing with different graphics.

I was captivated by this new technology before me. I just wished I was able to touch them and experience them for myself, but all I could do was live vicariously through Jacoby and his future patrons.

Eventually, opening day was upon us, and it felt like hundreds of people were flowing in and out of me all day. Some of the guests even stayed until nightfall, playing all the different games more than once. I could feel the energy pulsating through me. Though, it could have been because my circuits were overflowing with all the electricity used to power these gaming cabinets. But I’d like to think it was from all the fun the young kids, and even adults were having in this place.

As time went on, old games got replaced with newer games or updated versions. Jacoby even brought in air hockey and pinball machines which seemed to bring in even more business. We grew and grew, as the years went on. Some seasons were worse than others, but I could always tell Jacoby was happy with his investment, and hopefully, that meant he was happy with me.

But something tragic would change our lives. We’d been open for over twenty years now and still going strong, but arcades were slowly going obsolete, and the customers were getting older, much like Jacoby and me. What really caused our potential downfall was the Summer of 2003. It was late in the afternoon, and only a handful of guests were playing our games. An outlet sparked, causing smoke to fill the air quickly. Soon after, a fire broke out, causing a corner of me to ignite, and heavier black smoke started to spread. That handful of guests quickly evacuated, and Jacoby called the fire department. It was so hot and intense, I still remember the tingly sensation I felt as the flames tickled my sides, the heat almost unbearable, making some of my structure peel and crumble.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the fire department to arrive and put it out. Sadly, the damage was already done. A good chunk of me was ruined, and a lot of the games Jacoby had invested in were gone too. I will never forget the devastated look on his face as he toured me a day after the fire. His graying hair was disheveled, and his glasses were dangling in his hand while tears flowed freely down his aging face.

I wish I could have reached out to him. Spoke to him like I’m speaking to you. All I could do was watch, but I’d like to think the sweat on my walls that day were my tears for him. I didn’t know what fate had in store for me at that time. Were my walls going to be demolished to build something new and better? Were my lights going to go out for good? I didn’t have to wait long for my answer, though.

A week after the fire, Jacoby was cleaning up and salvaging what he could with some volunteers. Guests started pouring in through the front door of my building. Many were familiar faces; kids who had come to the arcade during school holidays and those who had skipped classes to be there. Now, they were older, some with children of their own. They expressed their gratitude to Jacoby for the memories they had made here and thanked him for the good times.

Jacoby was overwhelmed by the community’s outpouring of love and gratitude. Dozens of stories were shared, and money was gifted. I was moved to see that even some of our old players had come from other states when they heard about my situation.

I didn’t know how much we made that day, but it was enough to fix me up. After five months of extensive cleaning, structural repairs, plastering, rewiring my electrical system, and painting, I was brand spanking new. I felt rejuvenated, or what I heard the younger crowd say, “hip and fresh.” It was a new me, and I was ready to give back to my community once again.

In January of 2004, we had a grand reopening with brand new games and some classics that were salvaged from the fire. We were filled to capacity not only on the first day but throughout the entire week. It was amazing to have new life breathed into me, watching all the new and old arcade enthusiasts mingling together. It was a new era, and I was eager to see where the future would take us.

Cut to now, in February of 2023, my doors are still open, but a lot has changed. Jacoby has passed away, leaving the arcade to Mika, a young woman who used to frequent this place as a kid. She’s kept it running smoothly, preserving some of the classic games while introducing more advanced ones that I never thought possible when I was first built.

Jacoby may no longer be with us, but he is fondly remembered here at Jacoby’s Joystick Junction. His portrait hangs on my wall, and his urn and glasses are close by. I miss him daily, but I feel a deeper connection to him now than ever before. I hope my doors continue to remain open and my walls stay up for as long as possible, to keep his dream alive for eternity.