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It was Christmas.  I was 7.  And I got one… finally… an original Nintendo Entertainment System.  I think I ran around the house with the box over my head, the excitement too much... the child-like glee overtaking me.

I never thought I could feel that again…

Last night I got together with a buddy who refurbished an original NES, and he and I spent the better part of the night astounded at how much we remembered of Super Mario Bros. 3 (and how terrible we were at playing it) after so many years removed.  I’m not embarrassed to say that there was mad giggling on my part as we recalled the secret Warp Whistle room, the damned Sun that chased you in the desert level, how great having the Frog Suit was in the water; and how much it sucked to lose it mid-swim.  I immediately felt like that 7-year-old on Christmas morning.

I know that video games have gotten fancier.  3D graphics, epic soundtracks, thick plots.  I don’t know about you, but I’m perfectly content with a classic side-scroller any day.

He promised Bubble Bobble next week.  Man after my own heart.

Now if I could just get my hands on a copy of Kirby’s Adventure…