The biggest disappointment in my life

Life is full of disappointments: missing the last shot of the championship game, Dad couldn't get out of work to see your spring jazz concert, getting stiffed on a tip for a large catering order, sitting through all 110 minutes of M. Night Shyamalan's Lady In The Water, etc... For me it was the unfortunately sharp contrast between the movie Jumanji and its subsequent board game.

The year was 1995, and I was 8 years old. My after school hobbies included eating cinnamon flavored Pop Tarts, watching any fast moving animation regarding genetically altered animals, and making sure that my brother knew his place in our household hierarchy. I wanted to be an actor when I grew up a la Robin Williams. (Yes, the ADHD thespian was my false prophet.) Jumanji had just hit the theaters a couple of weeks ago, and it was Saturday -- family movie day.

I was completely entranced by the movie's CGI wizardry. Those monkeys were fucking real, and they were driving a police motorcycle. Jumanji was my prepubescent acid trip, and I was fucking rolling.

After the movie, the only thing I wanted to do was hop a one way charter to "the jungle" and make it my fucking bitch.

Just as we were exiting the mall theater, my father pointed out the promotional flyer in front of Target advertising the release of the Jumanji board game. I immediately voiced my opinion.

My mother was scared shitless by the thought of owning this game. She let out a blood curdling scream at my father that could only be rivaled by a new parent waking up to crib death. "JEFFREY, I DON'T WANT THAT GAME IN MY HOUSE!"

This only further enabled my naive imagination, "If Mom is scared about the spiders coming to life, then they HAVE to be in that game."

Knowing that my mother wanted to have no part in exhuming Disney's Animal Kingdom to modern civilization via Milton Bradley voodoo, my father decided to purchase the game.

My first clue that the inevitable let-down was going to short my dopamine receptors for the next two decades of my life was: there were no sub-audible war drums during the car ride home.

I should have known right then and there that my house wasn't going to be visited by any monsoons. But I had convinced myself that it just needed batteries. My mind had not even double checked with the facts that a.) the opening scene of the movie was during the Revolutionary War; no batteries, and b.) it was a fucking movie. I was far too busy imagining how my new friendship with Robin Williams and David Allen Grier was going to turn out. We were going to be best friends because my father payed $29.95, and that's a lot of money.

(Robin Williams was obviously excited because I had rescued him from the jungle. David Allen Grier was a little upset because this highly resembled slavery. However, upon eating Fruity Pebbles, David would cheer up.)

My anticipation made the car ride last forever, but we finally made it home. I took the game into the living room and started vehemently tearing away the shrink wrap. My mother reiterated her stance on the game as she went upstairs to hide. I wanted to inform her that upon rescuing Robin Williams from the jungle everything would be just fine, but opening that game and transforming my house into the dark continent was the only thing on my mind. It would only be a few more seconds before I realized the lies and deception.

A cardboard box? The top comes off? Cards? Polyhedral dice? A fucking sand timer? Colored pawns? Where was the beautifully carved wooden case that unfolded open? Where was the holographic center piece? WHERE WERE THE SICK ASS IVORY ANIMAL PIECES?!

I was crushed. I grabbed the dismal chess piece replica and set it on the game board. The piece didn't remain stationary; I could very easily remove it from the board. I grabbed the cube dice and rolled them over and over while staring at the center piece waiting for it to form a malevolent visage of my impending doom. Nothing happened.

I can't even begin to imagine the amount of disappointment received by the children who obtained the Zathura board game after seeing the movie. You have my sympathies.

-ab