PinBAR Wizard

The crisp, mechanical clacking sound of flippers striking was starting to grate on Stewart. Ker-chunk. Ker-chunk. The kerchunk-kerchunk-kerchunk had to be for the frantic players, he guessed. When Sarah had suggested they meet up at PinBAR, Stewart had thought it would be fun. He had never played pinball before. He could get over the unfamiliar layout.

But PinBAR was dark. Ownership was probably counting on the bright lights of the twenty or so pinball machines to do most of the illuminating. It might have been enough for most people, but the darkness didn’t sit well with Stewart. Most things were hard for him to see in regular indoor settings. The darkness helped ease his headaches, but left him feeling lost in reality.

Ker-chunk. Ker-chunk. He could feel the bartenders waiting for him to order too, but he was waiting for Sarah. Ker-chunk. Ker-chunk. Ker-chunk. Ker-chunk. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes late. Stewart checked his phone. Nothing. Maybe she was having to park far away.

“You can get coins for the pinball machines over there. They take cash,” said one of the bartenders, pointing to a machine against a wall after a while.

“I brought quarters,” Stewart said, patting his chest where they were stored in the inside pocket of his jacket.

“You have to use our tokens from the machines. I’m sorry,” she said.

Ker-chunk. Ker-chunk

“Gotcha.” He moseyed over and squinted at the money denominations pictured on the right side of the exchanger. They were faded. Great. Stewart checked his phone again. Still nothing from Sarah, and now she was twenty-five minutes past their scheduled meet time. He opened his wallet and thumbed between the five-dollar bill and the ten-dollar bill. He settled on the five-dollar bill. When Sarah got here, he would put in the tenner.

A fount of coins unexpectedly fell out of the machine. Stewart hadn’t been ready for them, and he fumbled his hands trying to catch them as the showered down. He managed to catch a couple, but most fell on the floor. Plink plink plink. Stewart awkwardly clambered to the ground. Ker-chunk ker-chunk. Ker-chunk ker-chunk.

“Need some help?” a voice asked from behind him. It sounded like the same bartender who had pointed him over here.

“Sure. Thanks.” Suddenly there was a body down on the ground next to him, helping him gather. Stewart felt like he was scrounging around, flailing, and looking foolish. This helper, this saint, was not scrounging. She was sweeping, and smooth with her movements.

“Here you go,” She said after a few moments, pushing a tiny cup into his hands with her own. Hers were smooth and soft. They felt beautiful.  She smelled nice.

“Thank you…” he said, pushing himself back to his feet. Ker-chunk ker-chunk. Ker-chunk ker-chunk.

“No problem,” she said. Stewart felt her walk away, back behind the bar. She was near the undercounter ice machine. Straightening his jacket, Stewart made his way to an open pinball machine with his token cup in hand. He decided he’d play down his five dollars of tokens and if Sarah didn’t show up in that time, he’d leave.

Ker-chunk ker-chunk. Ker-chunk ker-chunk.

Crouching down, he inserted a coin into the glowing orange 25¢ slot, a subtle ember of warmth in the dark black of the bottom of the machine. Stewart pressed the red “start” button and listened for the pinball to pop-up on the right side, near the spring pull. Nothing happened. He pressed the start button again, waited again for the rolling schpuck noise of the ball positioning for launch. Someone was approaching him; he could feel them coming. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“That particular game takes four tokens,” the bartender said. “Most take two, but that one takes four. It’s the newest one.”

“Ah,” Stewart said. He crouched again and put three more tokens in the ember slot. “Is there a place to tell?” he asked.

A long finger gracefully tapped on bottom of the glass window on the topside. “It’ll be here on all the games.” Stewart looked and sure enough there was a laminated label with “This game takes 4 tokens” printed. All he could do was nod.

“Can I get you a drink?” she asked him. “Lot’s of players play while they drink a beer or something.”

“I haven’t opened a tab yet,” he said, turning to look at her. She was wearing a nicely fitting black shirt, like all bartenders seem to do. Stewart thought it made them hard to flag down. But with this woman, with her wavy blonde hair down to the tops of her shoulders, the black just helped her shine in the darkness even brighter somehow.

“I know,” she said. “But I can get one started for you. If you’d like.” Her voice was kind and gentle, not pushy.

“I’m actually waiting on someone. A first date. I’ll wait until she gets here, and we’ll come and get some drinks.”

She nodded in understanding. “Enjoy the game. That one, the ball gets stuck in the upper left sometimes. Even though it’s new, it still has quirks. Just watch out for it. You look like you could be a pinball wizard.”

“Sounds good. I’ll keep an eye on it.” Stewart watched her fade into the black and back behind the bar and he turned to the shining lights of his game. He pressed start, launched his first ball, and added his own ker-chunks to the din. The bar was getting busier now, the pinball machines becoming more and more popular, less and less vacant.

Pinball, it turned out, was maddeningly fun. Much like a slot machine, Stewart couldn’t help but keep adding his coins after each turn ended. He hadn’t left the machine he started with, because he didn’t want to lose it if all the others were taken.

Stewart’s strategy had changed between his first and third games. He started focusing only on the flippers and the area right above. He didn’t really care about what minigames he unlocked, what targets he was supposed to hit, or what the lights and screens were whispering to him with each roll up the ramp. He was engrossed in the game; making it last as long as possible. Ker-chunk ker-chunk. Ker-chunk ker-chunk. He had noticed that his third ball on his third round had lasted quite some time. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe his own excuses. He was trying hard to give Sarah more time. He put his last tokens in. Sarah had one more round to get there. Probably ten minutes at most.

His first ball lasted him about five minutes. His second lasted about eight. On his third ball, he smelled the bartender behind him. She started quietly telling him what the screen was saying, when a multiball was coming, when a ball got locked. When he got a ball-save activated. She was present, and Stewart was grateful. The ker-chunk ker-chunk. of the machines around him became less frequent. He could feel more people watching him. His head was down watching a six inch radius, his fingers pulsing on the flipper buttons, his feet rocking with each mechanical strike. And he felt good.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, his ball fell down the middle between his upturned flippers. There was a smattering of cheers, some collective groaning, and a few pats on his back.

Stewart turned to the bartender. “What just happened?” he asked, his voice cracking from extended disuse.

“You just got the second highest all-time score! Look!” she said excitedly.

“Ah, so I did,” he said.

“Quick, what are your initials?” she asked.

“S.A.M.”

“Well, put them in!” she said. Stewart looked at the screen and quickly tapped “A.A.A.”

“Why’d you do that?” she asked.

“I don’t mind being anonymous. Kind of my thing.” She didn’t say anything at that. Stewart grabbed his jacket from the neighboring stool, which he’d taken off before game three.

“Can I get you that drink now?” she asked.

“My date didn’t show. Time for me to go,” Stewart said, shrugging his jacket onto his shoulders. He looked around for the exit. He saw the stairs he came down on and turned the other way, looking for another exit. Hopefully one that was flat. There appeared to be one in the back.

“I’m sorry. That sucks,” she said. Stewart gave a noncommittal shoulder shrug and started heading for the backdoor. “It’s on me, uh, the house,” she blurted. “House rules are that if you set a top two record you get a free drink. Most people have sunk at least a hundred dollars worth of tokens in before cracking into the top two. Makes everybody feel like they got something”

Stewart nodded and slowly made his way over to the bar. “I can’t do beer. Why don’t you make me your favorite drink,” he said.

“Espresso martini okay with you?” she asked. He nodded in affirmation. He watched her make the drink. “You don’t talk much do you, S.A.M.?” Stewart gave another shrug and cracked a faint smile. She laughed and slid his drink over to him, putting it right between his two hands.

Stewart looked down at the drink. It looked perfect. He carefully took a sip, swallowed and let out a deep breath. “I’m pretty much completely blind,” Stewart said. “I left my cane at my apartment because I didn’t want to embarrass the girl I was supposed to meet.” He looked up at the bartender over his glass, waiting for a reaction.

“Nice to meet you Pretty Much Completely Blind. I’m Sara,” she said with a nuclear smile that made the ker-chunks fade from Stewart’s perception. “No h,” she added.