So me and Ginger Dave spent a few hours in the pub today playing on the pinball machine. Dave managed to nail a good score early on, beating my previous highest score (112,000,000) he nailed a massive total of 119,000,000. Brilliant. I was amazed yet slightly irked. I've spent ages on this bloody machine and yet my scores still get t#atted by newcomers! Still, it was exciting to see someone do well. Then I played an absolute blinder. I got a whopping total of 314,863,560*. I couldn't believe it. I felt a little dizzy. Amazing. At one point during the game I'd had four balls on the go at once! Unprecedented.
We played another couple of games but the left flipper broke so we called it a day. I was pleased, I'd peaked and I didn't want a re-run of the last time I'd played on it. That would have been bad.
Outside the pub me and Dave marveled at what had just gone off. I thought how funny it was that a couple of pints had upped my game so much. Proving my earlier theory about beer being a useful resource in such situations. Then we talked about the last time I'd played it and how I'd got in a bad mood about it. We struck on the common experience we've both had where you tell yourself that an essentially random goal is in some way significant as regards the rest of your life:
"If I make this short my show on Kerrang will go well..."
"If I nail this shot my relationship with my girlfriend will never falter..."
"If I hit this shot I'll always be happy..."
And so forth. It's a dangerous game. If you miss the shot it's hard not to take it badly. I developed the habit at school. Throw a rolled up bunch of paper into a bin. Lands in the bin you'll score with a lady on Friday night. Miss and you won't.
It's in the same league as the salute a magpie thing. Something I also do. Never works.
*The reason I have this number to the exact point is I took a short of my name on the high score board.