End of an era

Or, the wrong store closed. Or, why must bad shit happen to good people?

Yeah, I'll say it. That rat-hole known as A-1 should have closed, not Video Game Trading Post.

I'll admit it. When I moved up here 7 years ago, I didn't really know the difference between the two stores. One was off by itself, the other in a strip mall. They both had tons of old games. Both of them put me off -- one store had the female version of Skeletor, the other, some indifferent dude who didn't bother to say "hi" when we came into the store. I wrote one off. And I gave another one a chance.

Today was the last day VGTP was open, but it wasn't the same. The clutter that we all found comforting was gone. The walls, save for the wonderful mural painted by Ed Watson, were bare. The main display cases were gone. Nothing on the walls, except for the old 48 Hours clock. No Final Fantasy posters, no NES or SNES games... it was all gone. The inventory lives on at another store, but it won't be the same. It can't be the same.

In her blog, DJ points out the Post had a life of its own, it was an entity. And she's right. Once I became a regular, I found myself down there at least one day a week, sometimes, several -- depending on what I needed to get away from. When you collect games, there's always something you're chasing. I'd get called if something special showed up. I was able to answer questions DJ didn't have answers for. And when I was laid off at the Statesman and ended up working at the game store at the mall, I still had time for the Post. And then, I was invited into a very exclusive club -- working at VGTP.

I was there for just under a year. I met lots of people, got to know several folks better -- two became roommates, one (who I had met before I was an employee) eventually became the only other man I'll have in my life.

There's been talk of closing the Post for just about as long as I can remember. And so when I heard the news this summer, I wasn't sure that it was going to happen. Not this time. They'll find a way out, they always do. But they didn't. Things happen for a reason. We'll all move on. But no one says it will be easy -- or that it should be.

It really hit home this afternoon, when we dropped by to ... I guess pay our respects (it really was like a wake). DJ wanted a pic of Scott and me. As we stood below the mural and Scott put his arm around me, it hit me: There wouldn't be an *us* without this place. And that made me sad. Yes, I've been saying for some time that I can't imagine life without Scott, that I can't remember what it was like when I was married to the ex-person, but really, it comes down to the chain of events that led me to the Post, and to the day DJ told me she wanted to hire me -- complete with the caveat of "I only ask once. If you say no, I won't ask again." And even though it was for less money than the mall, I took the job.

We've been through a lot of shit. They were there during the break up and divorce, through the depression and while I was trying to get my shit together. They were there when I found me, when I found love. Really, it feels like the Post was there for me more than I was for it. But I think there were enough of us who dropped by to keep it going -- at least the spirit -- where it was kinda OK if we all didn't get over there as often as we should.

It would be easy to be bitter, to blame the market, the competition. But how often do people get a second chance? I know I got one, and at least on the relationship side of things, I didn't squander that. There will be other stores, there will be people who try to copy what made the Post great. As customers, we'll find other places to get games. It won't be the same. We know what to look for, we know what makes for a fair price and when we're getting screwed. Those other places to buy games, those are just stores. Corporate or local, they're just providing a service. They won't have the character or the spirit of a place like the Post.

I won't back off the assertion that the wrong store closed, that bad shit has got to stop happening to good people. Seriously, Karma Bunny, when are you going to give these folks a break? I'm not asking for a lot, just go kick someone else in the balls for awhile. Really.

The sadness, the emptiness will be there -- especially when we drive down Fairview and see the store empty, or with someone else in there. It will pass, as these things do. More quickly for some, less quickly for others.

And really, as much as I'd like to say something poetic and meaningful, what needs to be said is very simple:

Thank you. For everything.