In my day there were real arcades instead of these junk closets that try to pass themselves off as arcades. As my wife and I were walking through Glenbrook mall, I started to rant about the fact that they tore out all the character and replaced it by generic store fronts and multiple pretzel shops. Okay, the pretzels are pretty tasty.

My wife, being more reasonable than I started to suggest improvements to counteract the sterility of the mall. One of the first things she suggested were arcades. My mind reeled back to happier days, when the mall had not one, but two arcades. The first one, Tilt, was a rather large and showcased the latest games. The second was Goldmine, a much more modest arcade, nestled in the recess of what is now an overcrowded food court. An ice skating rink once occupied the area now filled with pushy food vendors shoving chicken bits in everyone's face.

Tilt was the main arcade. The neon storefront sign called to us like a drunken carnival Barker. "Come, one and all! We have games that will amuse and excite the senses. We have fighters, adventure games, holographic games, and games that you can play with four friends at time. Come and be entertained."

How many parents felt the tug of smaller hands on their clothes as they passed by? I cannot guess. What is certain is that each parent would look down to see that hand stretched out, awaiting to be filled by quarters and dollar bills. Any of us with some spare change would just disappear into glowing abyss, assuming our parents just knew that a fight to resist would be fruitless. Then of course there was the constant scenes of the unlucky whose parents either did not have the time nor money to allow such diversions. The piercing squeal of a kid whining the phrase, "WHY NOT?" was enough to stop any shopper for a brief moment, and perhaps force them to reflect on a more cruel reality flowing underneath the tides of mall consumerism.

The Tilt represented all that was good and pure about arcades. People of all creeds coming together to challenge each other and themselves in the splendid electronic pageant. As soon as the threshold was crossed, one would immediately be jolted out of the fog caused crushing hours of grownups digging through clearance racks. The bright lights and bleeping sounds from dozens, probably more, games ensured that any kid was roused to a state of euphoric bliss within brief, electrifying moments. People gathered around watching games like Time Traveler amaze the viewers with FMV and a holographic display. Lines of determined youth waited in line, clinching sweaty quarters, ready for their change to challenge the dexterous champion in a match of Street Fighter 2. The unmistakable chorus quarters being taken from a small pile on a control panel, dropped into the red glowing slot one by one. One could just stand there for a moment, admiring the beauty that is the organized chaos of the arcade. The quarters, ever feeding the agonizing joy of trying to finish X-Men before a unsympathetic steward came to yank one out of that ecstasy.

The Goldmine was a bit different. As stated earlier, it rested behind the skating rink, away from the eyes of parents. The yellow marquee's illumination was a bit dimmer, the noise radiating was a more stark. The darkened entrance, not a loud neon sign, was what called to those willing to venture away from the bright lights of main path. It was a dark whisper which was carried by the faint cigarette smoke wafting the cavern. "This place may not be for you. There may be things here you are not ready for, forbidden, alluring things perhaps not for your eyes." How could such a voice be refused?

The Goldmine was much smaller in design, perhaps 1/4 of the size of Tilt, maybe less. It didn't boast the newest games, nor the best. ****cs and pinball were more it's flavor. The crowd was generally older, more weathered than the patrons of Tilt. Teenagers and hustlers were the denizens of this arcade. Cigarettes emptied their ash into the tin trays attached to Donkey Kong and Ice Climbers. The dampened moist sounds of two teens making out in the darkest of corners could be heard in between the various 8-bit soundtracks and swear words. It was truly a place of sin and wonderment.

Today, those experiences are lost to the ever progressing wheel of change and market research. The first blow to arcades came with the increasing popularity and capability of the home consoles. I don't think that's what dealt the deathblow. No, it was something more sinister, kids started to shop for the latest double layered abercrombie fare.

All that is left of the arcades are cheap little holes where many of the games don't work, and the emphasis is placed on earning tickets to purchase a toy for 100 times the price when everything is said and done. Sometimes while walking through the bright sterile hallways of the mall, If the lighting is just right and the air still enough, I swear I can hear the ghosts of those old machines, calling out in fainted beeps for anyone with a quarter and some time.