As a child, Sunshine Pizza meant more to me than its elastic, yellow-tinted mozzarella cheese. Often a treat from my Dad, a slice or two of pie would be enough for most kids, but I had to have it my way. In a room full of tables and chairs, there was only one place I could sit — the Pac-Man table.

Part of it seemed magical to me. When I looked at this table, I didn’t see wood or colored plastic as I did at the other tables. Instead there was a bright, well-lit animation of a yellow creature chasing multi-colored ghosts. Inside the table!

Only one table in the pizzeria had Pac-Man, and claiming this table was like sitting at the king’s chair in a royal court. For that fifteen minutes, I was the only one who would know the joy of power pellets.

This relic from my child hood is still alive, still in the restaurant (albeit a different address), and still coated in pizza grease. Even now, there’s something magical about the machine.

Please insert one quarter.