by Angelica
Candelaria 10/12/08
In a great meeting of the minds, my sister and I would engage in heavy, intellectual
battles over board games like Wheel of Fortune, Family Feud, and The Joker's Wild.
The reality is that I was usually begging her (rather shamelessly, I might add) to
play with me to no avail. I suppose being defeated by a girl seven years her junior
finally crushed her morale and self-respect. Who could blame her for shunning my challenges?
These days, I still engage in the arduous task of finding someone who will share in
my fondness for board games. It is not that I am a fanatic; it is simply that I would
like to enjoy something beyond brain-numbing television once in a while. My Mom will
occasionally consent to a game of Scrabble. She certainly did not inherit my grandmother's
penchant for eight hour, Scrabble-playing marathon sessions. Neither did I, come to
think of it. Even so, my mother's Scrabble stamina only suffices for the duration
of two games, at most. This is all well and good, but when I suggest playing the following
games, she swiftly and determinedly refuses.
Trivial Pursuit
I dare say I am somewhat of an expert in trivial knowledge. Rather, it is precisely
that type of generally useless information that piques my interest. Yet the queries
featured on the Trivial Pursuit playing cards, although fun, tend to be too obscure
for even my quirky mind. As it turns out, it was downright traumatic for my
Mom, both mentally and physically. I had no idea what was in store for us when she
agreed to play with me. It was not but five minutes into the game when she began complaining
of a headache and a sense of nausea. Her diagnosis? "These questions are dumb. Playing
Trivial Pursuit is making me sick!"
The game was over as quickly as it commenced.
Following many months, I found another individual to play with me. He had loved Trivial
Pursuit as a child and was enthusiastic about revisiting his former mastery of the
game. I thought I had found a Trivial Pursuit partner at last when I heard him say
(after many erroneous responses to questions), "This is not as fun as I remembered
it."
Suffice to say, my two boxes of Trivial Pursuit (the classic and the popular culture
editions) are gathering dust in a closet. However arduous a number of the inquiries
may be, they are nevertheless fascinating and at turns humorous. I am yet searching
for that one robust and adventurous individual who will not only play with me, but
manage not to become ill or absolutely disheartened in the process.
Monopoly
If five minutes of Trivial Pursuit literally sickens my Mom, I cannot imagine what
over three hours of Monopoly would do to her. I surmise that she would end up in the
emergency room claiming that she had "Monopolitis."
Fortunately, my brother and his girlfriend enjoyed Monopoly, possibly more than I
did. It gave three monetarily destitute individuals an opportunity to move vast amounts
of money and purchase real estate like magnates--magnates with an honor system, that
is. I created a rule which stated that we could not purchase one another's remaining
blocks of property if one had already been bought. In other words: if Person A purchased
Park Place, Persons B & C could not purchase Boardwalk. They must allow Person
A to do so to afford them an opportunity to purchase houses and hotels.
We also limited ourselves to the number of property blocks we could purchase in order
to even the playing field.
My honor granted me a clear conscience, but not a victory. My brother's girlfriend
and I were frequently dominated by my brother's fake, financial prowess.
Clue
As a lover of English novels and televised mysteries, "Clue" is well suited to me.
It is rather a shame that I am clueless when it comes to solving riddles. Aptly put,
I am the anti-Sherlock Holmes. Even "Clue Jr." books send me into fits of confusion
as I endeavor to unravel the simplest of conundrums. Nevertheless, I enjoy the board
game. Once again, my brother and his girlfriend would engage me in a battle of the
witless. We would scrutinize one another in mock seriousness across the playing board,
going to painstaking lengths to conceal the cards in our hands, inconspicuously checking
off our respective lists of murder weapons and suspects in paranoid fashion. At times
a facetious lovers' spat would ensue between my brother and his girlfriend. She would
accusingly say, "You were looking!" or suggest that he was attempting to discover
what her cards were by keenly examining the reflection in her eyes.
I would sit there, just trying to keep up with my own game-playing. I once mistakenly
checked off items on a list that already had check marks on them. Forget Sherlock
Holmes, I could not give Scooby-Doo a run for his money.
Without dismissing the entertainment value these creative and stimulating games provided,
they were more accurately vehicles for fellowship with family and friends. It was
this that most impressed itself upon me and undeniably enhanced my enjoyment of them.
In my own mind, that is the reason they should be deemed "classics."
Comments