The Internet Adds Ten Pounds

Children are a lot like Herpes. Just because you never wanted them when you were younger doesn't mean you won't end up with them once you get older. People without them tend to look at people with them with utter disdain. People with them will ultimately find themselves in a position where they will be embarrassed by them. And the people who hope to one day have them are just fucking nuts. I could go on, but I think you get my point. Children are so similar to STDs they should be referred to as KIDs. In fact, between now and February 13 I will no longer say that Pregatron (who you may know as my lovely wife) is pregnant. She's KID positive.

That is not to say I do not love my KIDs. I do. Tons. However I bring up the striking similarities between Children and Disease because right now as we speak (or rather as I type and you read some time well after) I'm sitting inside my local Jungle Java. If you live outside of Metro Detroit (but of course not actually in Detroit) or oddly enough Austin, TX then you most likely have never heard of a Jungle Java. Until now, that is. Which is great, because if you had you might think you know where I'm going with this, and you'd be wrong. So hear me out. Or read me out. Whatever.

Jungle Java is a poorly heated warehouse that is half Indoor Playscape and half Coffee House. It's as if someone was sitting in a Starbucks some day and said "You know what would go great with this tall Skinny Latte? Three dozen screaming kids running around!". Only in Metro Detroit (but of course not actually in Detroit) or oddly enough Austin, TX could this idea thrive long enough to become an actual plan which would then garner enough support to become an actual Business Plan which some undoubtedly local bank decided was sound enough to fund which actual dollars instead of play-play dollars or even worse Canadian dollars. Like the Michigan Left, Killing the Electric Car, The People Mover, hiring Matt Millen and re-electing Kwame Kilpatrick, Jungle Java fits perfectly with our finest tradition: doing something that history will never be able to explain and can only be excused by saying it seemed like a good idea at the time. And when you think about it, it must have seemed like a good idea at the time.

The appeal of a Jungle Java is simple. It's a place you can take your KIDs and let them run around year round while you rest comfortably in a lounge-like setting. Sounds like a winner until you actually break down what that entails. Let's go to the tape:

1. Being indoors is a plus on a day like today when there's 8 inches of snow on the ground. But that's not the case every day. What is the case every day is that you're indoors, which means the sounds of dozens of screaming kids is now trapped indoors. If you've ever had a screaming baby on a flight, you can imagine what that flight would sound like if you jacked up the numbers of screaming babies by about 40. You'd definitely be asking for a ticket refund when you got off the plane. Which leads me to the next item.


2. I wasn't surprised to find out that there was a charge to get into this place, but I was completed floored that my admission fee didn't cover anything. The kids mostly get in free. Mostly. Parents never do. I would have no problem with this if I got a never-ending pot of Coffee with my $17 admission, but I don't. In fact, if I want any of the subtacular fare on their limited menu I'm going to have to pay spectacular prices to get them. This will not stand, this aggression against my wallet. It's a blatant attempt to siphon off money from the wealthy families living in the surrounding neighborhood who wouldn't be caught dead being the only family who complained about the markup on the stale White Chocolate Raspberry Scones or Guatemalan Coffee when all the other families bought one. Well I've got news for you, Jungle Java. This is America, Jack. Just because I live here doesn't mean I can afford to. So keep your shitty Scones, I'm sneaking in my food from here on out.


3. Then there's the slight issue of safety. This place is at best a deathtrap and at worst a muthafuckin sure-as-shit deathtrap.Now I know what you're thinking: what could possibly go wrong in a confined three-story jungle gym full of an unlimited number of kids ranging from ages "fetus" to "Yo money, when was the last time you shaved"? Not much, I guess.


4. The fact that the visibility in said deathtrap is so poor that Bin Laden could be in there and nobody would know is also something that causes a degree of concern. Today I lost track of my KIDs before I could finish hanging up their coats. Seriously. Turned around and they were gone. This factor is particularly annoying as it leads to a back and forth between crying KIDs and suddenly horrified parents that I can only describe as part Marco Polo and part Amber Alert.


5. Then there's the parents. They're a superstitious and cowardly lot. Some of them feel as though their house rules should be the rules everywhere, like the one who questioned Pregatron as to why our KIDs weren't wearing shoes in the bathroom since her KIDs were. Some of them are Mother Hens, much like the one who just picked up my crying daughter and carried her over to me despite the fact that by my count Lunchbox (who some of you know as my middle child) had come over to me while crying under her own power no fewer than seven times today. She was getting sleepy, she was in no way injured. But I guess the sight of me not going to get Lunchbox myself was too much for her to bear and she had to take action. Some of them are just well meaning idiots. There's padding around the support poles of this deathtrap, and my daughters discovered this padding spins around the pole. This lead to them grabbing onto the pole and spinning around in circles until they fell. Then they got up and did it all over again. This lead to one of the parents telling me that she really enjoyed watching my daughters spin around on the pole, and that maybe I should have a pole installed in my home for them. Let me address the second part of that statement first. If and when I install a pole in my home, it will most certainly not be for my daughters. And as for that first bit, while perhaps an innocent observation, no father ever wants to be informed about how much you thoroughly enjoyed his daughter's pole dancing. Ever.
   

So that's the list. Ironically enough, this post isn't about Jungle Java or even why I feel the way I do about Jungle Java. It's about the one thing that I love about Jungle Java: the free Wi-fi. The sole reason I look forward to my increasingly regular outings to this place is the fact that I can sit with my laptop and do whatever I need to without having to do much parenting. I'm pretty sure that's what the other parents see in it, too. For me, the chance to research equities without having to break-up any Ultimate Fights or attend any of Gumball's (who some of you may know as my oldest daughter) fake-ass tea parties is all good. It's time I rarely get at home and really can't afford to squander. So why am I blogging right now? Because I just did something so awful, so inexcusable that I had to let it be known.

I was sitting here curious to know what time this placed closed today. I was about to get up and ask when I decided it would be easier to just Google it. So I did. And I found out. Around the same time this was happening, I saw someone get their food delivered to them and I wished that I could order food through the website since I was already there. That way they could just bring me what I want and I could pay for it online so I wouldn't have to bother pulling out my wallet. It was right around there that I realized I have become a Lazy Fuck. Scratch that, I've become a Super Lazy Fuck. Then I realized there were children around so I toned it down to just being Super Lazy.

I was stunned. Floored. How did this happen? I love doing stuff. New stuff, habitual stuff, stuff I can't blog about, whatever. How could this have happened? Hemingway wrote that Mike Campbell went bankrupt "Gradually, then suddenly." I'm sure he'd feel the same way about my sloth. But what would cause I guy who loves doing stuff into a guy who loves doing as little as possible? I searched my mind for an answer and as I have so many times before, I found what I was looking for sitting in my lap. The Internet.

I don't actually do anything if I don't virtually do it first. I shop online before I buy. I house hunt online before I even set foot in a neighborhood. I order my pizza online. I order takeout online from restaurants I've never been to but read good things about online. I talk to My Fave 5 online more than I do on my BlackBerry, and that's even counting text. And of course I buy my music online. I base most of my life on Google Search Results. My kids names, my job, my house, my car pretty much everything but my wife I found online without having to leave the sofa, much less the house. That's just sad.

So I had an epiphany. But what to do about it? That's another post, altogether ("That's another post...".). But for now I'm going to get off my duff and find my kids. They must be around here somewhere. Maybe if I Google Earth them...

SL