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Warning: if you feel
a headache coming on, avoid getting anywhere near this joint (in fact,
avoid the entire neighborhood.) While it's been a few years since
we put our initials in the Dig Dug and Burgertime games at the Castle
Golf arcade, we can't help but remember the natural high we felt
when that little Pooka or Fygar took a boulder to the head, or when
Chef Peter Pepper finally slammed home that fourth bun. Well, this
is hardly the arcade of your pre-pubescent memories. Things have gotten
way more advanced, way more realistic (no more being chased by six-foot
hotdogs) and way more expensive. Remember when Dragon's Lair was the
only game that cost a dollar? I mean, even the gigantic Discs of Tron
environmental version only cost fifty cents! Now everything shakes
and rattles and bucks through the use of hydraulics and advanced diode
doohickeys. For the pleasure of whiplash and extreme humiliation,
one spends a couple bucks and gets a session shorter (and almost as
frustrating) as the Phoebe Cates scene from Fast Times at Ridgemont
High. There's nothing worse after a vigorous fake jet skiing
race than to turn and see a twelve-year-old, punk kid snickering at
you from beneath his Mets cap. Luckily ESPN Zone also has a couple
bars to take the edge off, allowing drunken adults to mix with loitering
children. Normally we wouldn't think this was a good idea, but it's
obvious watching these kids kick the crap out of virtual boxing opponents
that they can certainly handle themselves. We imagine the food here
probably tastes a little like the deflated ball used in the soccer
game on the top floor--as food is about as much of a draw here as
it is on your typical transatlantic flight. [MF]
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