A Non-Musical Aside: So I Got A Wii

On any given weekend, you'd think the dorkiest thing I might even possibly be capable of would be to pass out dead sober from exhaustion at 9:00 on a Friday evening instead of going out and meeting actual real-world gurlz (sorry Jen), but unfortunately anyone who might think that forgets that I'm the kind of guy with a fourth-favorite Brian Eno ambient album (Discrete Music, for the record). The truth - the horrible, scarring truth - is that yesterday was far worse from a social standpoint, because compared to standing in line for thirteen hours to get my hands on a Nintendo Wii at Universal CityWalk's big midnight launch party, falling asleep in prime time on a Saturday could probably pass for a towering monument to feckless promiscuity. But oh well; alea iacta est.

I do hasten to add, however, that my motivations for setting off on this puss-less voyage were (at least to some degree) motivated less by a desire for a Wii than for a desire for some A+ write-up material; on the scale of gonzo journalism standing in line with a bunch of dorks of historic proportions might not match up to hanging out with Sonny Barger, but what the hell - I figured I'd be able to bear witness to something worth mentioning. What I didn't get, however, were exact times, so the continuum presented here is a sketchy best-guess assembly at last night's events (thank you, Green Lantern Fan, for making me allergic to chronology). Deal with it; I sure as fuck had to. ANYWAY:

2:00 PM: So. At sometime on Friday while scanning various video-game related sites for news about the carnage otherwise known as the PS3 launch, it was brought to my attention that Universal CityWalk (basically the upscale mall Universal Studios built adjunct to their theme park, although at this point it's a sure bet that the mall draws in way more money) was going to be hosting a midnight launch with, like, jugglers and DJs and bands and shit. And since I've actually been wanting a Wii pretty for a good couple of months now and didn't really feel like waking up at ass o'clock to go stand in line in front of Target, I figured I'd make the trek down and stand in line there instead, where at the very least my chances of being egged were moderately lower. I'd also read that they were getting something like a thousand units, which seemed like it should be enough to ensure that if I basically wasted my entire day and night waiting, I'd pretty much be assured of being able to pick one up. And besides, it's not like I don't have eleventy billion books to read anyway; maybe taking an afternoon off from (1) getting fucked up, (2) checking the same three messageboards roughly eighty-nine times an hour each, and (3) getting re-fucked up might enable me to plow through one or two of 'em. I've certainly thought up less productive ways to spend my Saturdays, as hard as that may be to believe.

Or at least that's what I kept telling myself as I parked my car, walked into the mall, and immediately came face-to-face with the longest line I've ever seen in my life for anything ever. Keep in mind that it was two in the afternoon, leaving ten hours until they actually put the damn thing on sale; I had been thinking that I would be somewhere around thirtieth at worst, but as it turned out I was something like two hundred and fifty slots off. On the plus side, at the risk of being vain, I instantly become the most fuckable guy in the line as soon as I join it; for a moment I was left wondering if I'd accidentally joined the line where people get cash payouts corresponding to the greasiness of their hair and the hilarity of their overbites. I briefly considered hiring a contingent of these dorks to follow me around and make me look better by comparison, although unfortunately these dorks appear too canny to agree to be paid in Pogs.

2:05 PM: I sit down at the end of the line behind two cackling mouthbreathers both sporting blue jeans hoisted titty-high with all manner of holsters dangling from their belts - cell phones, Nintendo DSes, Fleshlights, etc. In an effort to be at least mildly sociable towards the people with whom I'm about to spend the next twelve hours of my life, I politely interrupt one of their snort-a-thons to ask if they know how many units the store will be receiving and recieve an answer engineered from a cellular level to make me out to be some clueless dilettante here to buy the new Nintendo BoxStation (again, ten hours before it's due to go on sale). Would it really be murder if the victims don't have lives in the first place?

2:15 PM: I relinquish my place at the back of the line to two middle-school kids dropped off by a parent; again, in an effort to not be a cock, I try to be friendly, although I make no effort to hide the fact that I'll be spending most of the day reading Franklin Foer's How Soccer Explains The World (and yes, as if this piece could make me look any lamer, I've just admitted to taking book reccomendations from Bill Simmons), but something strikes me as rather off-center about these kids. Then one of them, apropos of nothing, starts talking about how he, his brother, and both of his parents all have near-crippling cases of ADHD, to the point where even the UCLA study on the disorder in which they're all participating hasn't seen anything like it. Ah yes; there you go. My nose could not possibly have buried itself any more hurriedly into the middle of my book.

2:30 PM: Although I have a freely-acknowleged history completely devoid of any hint of svelteness up until a few years ago, I still feel compelled to point out that the kid at the back of the line at this point is really, really, really fat. By this point, the line has started to extend up the stairs onto the second floor, placing this walking ham right in the middle of the stairs going up; at one point, a security guard has to come by and beckon him to lean in close so that he can shuttle this anthropomorphic lump off to the side (or at least that's what I guessed happened going by said lump's horrified look and embarassed scurry to the side). It should be noted that this kid became completely infuriating almost at the moment his gargantuan ass-cheeks touched down on the concrete, bellowing profanity at random line folks in a desperate attempt to cure his own boredom at the expense of others'. It should also be noted that even when he scooted off to the side, he still took up more than half the step.

2:45 PM: The uber-geeks in front of me have accidentally denuded their power relationship in front of my surveillance-camera-esque eye, as one of them (the short one in the Zelda shirt) demands that they play games at which he has the clear strategic advantage and then starts crowing like he's just won the Tour De France whenever he pulls out a victory. I watched them play Elite Beat Agents in multiplayer despite the gangly wheezer's protestations that he'd never played it before; Shorty McSquatterton immediately puts it on hard mode and sets about berating Chappy McNoSpine for his lack of ownership and/or mastery thereof. It's worth pointing out, I suppose, that he's almost right, because Elite Beat Agents is actually pretty great; nevertheless he still could have used a good stabbing.

3:00 PM: Franklin Foer has successfully made soccer hooligans boring. Congradulations, F-Boogie.

3:30 PM: Having successfully grown bored with Elite Beat Agents, the nerds in front of me have turned their attention to Daigasso! Band Brothers, an obscure Japanese import title. I know this because they spend at least as much time loudly bleating about how the rest of the sheep in line with them haven't even heard of it as they spend actually playing it. The Rapture cannot come quickly enough to suit me; I'm more than willing to be left behind in a world withouth these two.

3:35 PM: Actual quote from one of the super-dongs in front: "Jeez, you've got people (gestures at the spazzes behind me) playing cards, you've got people (gestures at me) reading books - what kind of Nintendo fans are these people?" They then return to playing a MIDI version of the Super Mario Brothers theme on their DSes and breathing lustily through their open mouths.

4:00 PM: The spazzes are getting restless - having failed to be placated by my declaration that I was going to "save my DS battery power until the sun went down and I can't read anymore", they now both start bothering me to ask about How Soccer Explains The World, by which I mean waiting until I say the word "soccer" and then immediately start bum-rushing me with stories about the sports that they play for their schools and (again) how they're ADHD. I actually feel bad about being mean to genial (if irritating) middle-schoolers, but I do kinda get the feeling that I could have gotten a lot more peace and quiet out of them if only I'd had something with a reflective surface to give them.

4:15 PM: The line has gone upstairs and wrapped completely around the building. Seriously, Nintendo is going to make money hand over fist with this thing if they've got this kind of interest just among people hardcore/bored enough to line up ten hours early.

4:30 PM: The Omega Geek in front of me asks his Alpha Geek master to hold his chair while he runs up to EB Games to check out what they've got; the Alpha Geek says he won't give the guy his (his!) chair back unless he buys Elite Beat Agents while in there. And as it turns out, he wasn't kidding; I suppose some might have described this line a borderline Rockwellian portrait of charmers. "Just think", I keep hearing the voice in my head say, "right now you could be at home listening to that new James Holden album". I make a mental note to stick a meat thermometer in my ear later.

4:45 PM: I really have no way to explain why I thought that sitting on the concrete for half a day wouldn't put my lower back in a Jacobin state of revolt, but then again I was never really one for thinking things through anyway. Kids, your ol' Uncle James cannot stress the value of conditioning yourself to sit up straight urgently enough.

5:00 PM: Lest you think I'm being too hard on the spazzes behind me, keep in mind that around this point they started making jokes about "liberals". Middle-school right-wingers: the new middle-school leftists? Do Avenged Sevenfold CDs come with rub-on tattoos of Karl Rove in a beret and nobody bothered to tell me?

5:15 PM: A while back, someone returned from EB Games with a fistful of stickers commemorating the Wii launch event; pretty much everyone in line got one, except for the taller spaz behind me who immediately darted off to EB to grab, literally, at least two hundred of the things. I bring this up because around this point, he started trying to literally cover his clothes with these stickers, including his hat and his pants, and he's actually got enough to pretty much do the job. Considering how the only thing I want more than a Wii at this point is to not be captured on camera in the line to buy a Wii, I forsee dire weather in the coming hours.

5:45 PM: Yep, there's been a steady stream of people walking by going "AY! WII STICKER KID!" and such. Eventually, the various gaming outlets start taking pictures and asking him questions on-camera; I don't think he lets a single opportunity to mention his crippling ADHD slip by him (although I guess that makes sense). You would think yuppie parents these days would have acute enough memories of the bitter fruits they reaped from their own days of attention-whoring wine and roses to impress upon their kids the virtues of keeping a low profile, but no.

6:00 PM: The staffers have started passing out bracelets to people in line guaranteeing them a place in line - NOT, they repeat, NOT an actual unit. The Mega-Dork Powers in front of me get their bracelets within about three seconds of finally receiving their media passes (did I mention that they have a podcast? Because they sure did, like every four seconds) and immediately fuck most graciously off. Franklin Foer has been droning me damn close to death me for four hours now, yet I'm far too deep in this mess to switch over to my history of chess or The Rape of Nanking. This fucking thing better cook me breakfast (update: it might as well).

6:30 PM: Movement! They herd us in small groups down to a more consolidated line right by a club. The Bestickered Spaz is now getting interviewed by everyone who walks by with a movie camera, a group which pretty much includes everyone since the advent of the video podcast. I hate technology (except the Wii).

6:45 PM: I am already sick to death of people asking me what we're in line for and then immediately responding with some condescending bullshit answer. I mean, yes, I obviously bring this completely on myself by standing in line (and moreso by reading a book instead of engaging in frantic and profane DS play and, I suppose, by looking comparatively like a low risk to shower questioners with spittle in a frenzy to respond); I just wish they'd ask someone who actually likes people enough to interact with them. I also can't pass up the chance to mention the 45-year-old women who had a whole laundry list of questions about why we were standing in line, the answer to each of which was met by a quick, loud pow-wow between the two of them which all basically boiled down to "Well that's just the stupidest thing I've ever heard of; why would anyone ever do that?". Of course, considering my job, I figure this is just payback for torturing the nation's secretaries during the week. C'est la vie.

7:30 PM: Nintendo, being masters of figuring out how to look brilliantly stupid, decided to send out a fleet of Segways (i.e. the Gob Bluthmobiles) equipped with screens and Wiis for the people in line to fuck around with; ExciteTruck and Wii Sports Bowling turn out to be hilariously fun. Just eighty thousand more hours until I get to pay for one!

8:00 PM: GODDAMMIT, FRANKLIN, SOCCER ONLY TENUOUSLY EXPLAINS ANY OF THIS SHIT.

8:30 PM: Oh good, the club around which the Wii line is circled just started playing cataclysmically loud tejano music! Yeah, that's just what I was hoping for after six and a half hours of a soundtrack of pure high-pitched nasal whinging - oppressively loud music making it even more difficult to concentrate on Mr. Foer's turgid prose style. Seriously, this shit is so loud that I would be afraid that it would make me sterile if the fact that lining up for a video game console for half a day didn't drive home the point that virility isn't exactly going to be something in high demand in my life. Stupid fucking world.

9:30 PM: Have I mentioned all the nerds in costumes yet? Even setting aside Wii Sticker Kid and the seemingly standard-issue Hot Topic video-game t-shirts everyone else happens to be sporting, some people feel obligated to take it to another level; I spot people dressed up like Mario, Luigi, and (mysteriously) Waldo (of Where's fame). I have a niggling suspicion that every single one of these people call their hand "Zelda" when they rub one out.

10:15 PM: OOMPAHOOMPAHOOMPAHOOMPAHOOMPAHOOOMPAHOOMPAHOOMPAH"Hey what are you guys lining up for?"OOMPAHOOMPAHOOMPAHOOMPAH.

10:30 PM: The winner for most ironic comment of the day: the giant fat guy who walked by dressed head-to-toe in Dodger shit, including a throwback jersey which must have set him back at least four hundred bucks and carrying overflowing bags from Foot Locker in each hand. "GODDAMMIT, IT'S JUST A GAME! YOU NEED TO ALL GET LIVES!", he bellowed as he set off on the long, lonely walk from the mall to his car all alone at 10:30 on a Saturday night. I make a mental note to buy a J.D. Drew jersey at the first opportunity.

10:45 PM: The Nintendo Swag Patrol is out in full force tonight - they were throwing around hats and stickers and shirts and stuffed monkeys (really!) like it weren't no thang to anyone willing to debase themselves for the Big N. Spazzy McStickers behind me points out that now I'm the only person in line not representing Nintendo sartorially. This is not an accident.

11:00 PM: back...hurts...so...much...when the fuck did I turn eighty?

11:45 PM: EAT A DICK, FRANKLIN FOER, I READ YOUR SHITTY BOOK COVER TO COVER AND ONLY LIKED MAYBE A FIFTH OF IT! Yeah, now I can finally start talking to all the other people in - wait...

MIDNIGHT: Okay, FINALLY the Wii goes on sale and we... move forward about thirty feet. Apparently they have to take care of the pre-orders first, which, to my thinking, shouldn't take too long - after all, every other store burned through their preorders while I was still at work, so this should be pretty quick, right?

12:30 AM: Right?

12:45 AM: RIGHT?

1:00 AM: Jesus Christ, does EB only let people pay for preorders with pennies? This is absurd - the line literally hasn't moved since midnight, and I've seen maybe 30 people walk by with their systems. By this point I'm wondering if we're all going to get kicked out since the mall ostensibly closes at two; I kinda figure that we're probably going to get to stay until they're all sold out of systems, but it really would be just my luck.

1:30 AM: Bestickered Spaz has fallen in on the outskirts of a bunch of older, extremely profane guys - probably in their early-to-mid 20s, all of whom literally howl out after every single girl that walks by and who pass the time between passing trim by attempting to determine who amongh them can be called the biggest "motherfucking faggot". That being said, despite their atrocious manners, I can't argue with the truth, namely that a whole fuckload of these girls were coming from the aforementioned tejano club which, for the benefit of those of you unfamiliar with tejano clubs, tends to attract a clientele of girls who aren't exactly shy about showing off their formidable assets (in some cases, perhaps a bit of shyness might be advised). I mull over the purchase of a bolo tie and a cowboy hat.

1:45 AM: THE PREORDERS ARE FINALLY DONE WITH THANK FUCK. I later learned that there had been over - OVER - four hundred sold at this location alone; part of me doubts if there were many more preorders for the PS3 taken country-wide due to their ridiculous product allocations. (I also heard that the NYC Wii launch sold 2500 units, which is just fucking out-of-pocket. Nintendo is just printing money off this thing.)

2:15 AM: So after twelve hours of standing in line for this thing, we're finally escorted...to the back of another line. Worse, this one's out of the view of departing skanks; given how long we'd been torturing ourselves for this thing, you'd think Nintendo could have at least diverted them around our way.

2:45 AM: They're letting people paying with cash go first for some reason, which seems a little preposterous considering how most people probably learned not to bring fat stacks of cash to system launches thanks to motherfuckers running up on your spot with a gun. All I want to do is buy my Wii and put a bullet in the head of everyone who keeps laughing raucously and playing each other songs over their cell phones' speakers

3:00 AM: "Wii, Zelda, Excitetruck, please." "Are you sure you want this thing?" NO BITCH, YOU CAUGHT ME. What is this, the Dana Carvey Show?

3:15 AM: Driving home now - I have Portishead's magnificent first album on my stereo, the baddest-ass game system in like ever in my front seat, and a frighteningly uncharacteristic desolate stretch of the 101 stretching out in front of me. "You know", I said to myself, "maybe despite all the nerds and the back pain and so on, maybe this was actually a pretty good thing to do after all - I mean, what else was I going to do tonight?"

And right at that moment, I drove by the Music Box which happened to be sporting a huge sign advertising Hot Chip's concert there tonight.

Stupid fucking world.