I was in a cab on my way to meet some friends at a bar and chatting with my cab driver. He was lamenting about there being no laser tag in Chicago. Yes, a grown-ass man who is dying for some laser tag. They have them in the suburbs because there are more kids out there, but I was telling him that if they had one in Chicago proper, it would need two things.
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| The sport of laser tag is perfectly integrated. |
1. Booze. The thing about Chicagoans is that most any activity when coupled with alcohol suddenly becomes doable. They have a place not far from me where you can learn how to paint, and it's always packed. You know why? Because you can bring your own wine, set it next to your easel, and paint happy, drunk trees.
2. It would need a fun gimmick of some kind, and I'm thinking "Star Wars." Who wouldn't want to play Rebels against The Empire and dress as a bunch of storm troopers and Vader against Han, Luke, and Leia? And Chewbacca! Who among you would not put on a hairy wookie outfit, strap on a crossbow, and run around the halls of the Death Star, howling and shooting storm troopers in the face and balls? And the bar in there could be the Mos Eisley Spaceport Bar! A guy could drink blue stuff and cut off arms all night long in a place like that.
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| I swear to God, Greedo. I will shoot you right in the green penis. |
The cab driver said that was a great idea and asked if I was in marketing. "No." I replied. "I'm just a drunk who knows how to have a good time."
