Sometimes I wonder if I'm trying to recreate those moments from my youth - but those moments were invariably in a well lit arcade with a cacophony of bells, chimes, voices, beeps, and boops... elbow to elbow with those around me swearing at their machines.
Yet, like many in the thread above, my perfect moment is the darkened game room lit only by the pins and animated by a handful of 455's in the backglasses. They are the games of my youth, but not the environment.
I can step up to MY machine and know it will run well, and in the rare case it doesn't? That's OK! I've got a repair to do tomorrow! Which is another favorite moment - lifting the playfield, opening the backbox and getting hit with that smell - a mixture of ozone, coil dust, old wood and that general 50 year old funk that wafts out of the innards.
Forest Hill, MD
