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Oregon Trail
When I was a kid, summer school wasn’t for people who didn’t get passing grades; it was a place for kids whose parents didn’t want to spend money on daycare. Summer school was a good alternative for parents who didn’t want to spend all their money on overpriced babysitters .My babysitter was “The Oregon Trail” video game. I played it on the technological mecca that was the Apple 2. The floppy disk was about three feet in length and extremely flimsy. Ah yes, I remember it like it was 1848, why that’s the day me, my parents, my sister, and little Timmy set trail for Oregon. You were given 5 members, but my family only had four, so I always added little Timmy, who consequently was always the first to die. The choices were simple, you could be a banker from Boston, a carpenter from Ohio, or a farmer from Illinois. And the choice was always simple, I was always, always, a banker from Boston. In fact, I never even tried being anything else. Being a banker was the only way to go. I’d put on my best Sunday shoes and suit, and set trail to Oregon.

First things first, before heading out, you need to visit the general store. The place had Oxen, food, guns, ammunition, clothing, and spare parts. Your 1848 version of Wal Mart. Once you bought your strategic allotment of goods, you were on your way. Things were good early on, the heat wasn’t too bad, everyone was in good health. Then shit starts to really get serious. Before you know it, Oxen are dying, your sister has a broken leg, and Timmy has typhoid. All the diseases I know about I learned from the game Oregon trail. When I was little and my sister got sick, I would go through my medical list from Oregon trail and try to assess the illness. “Mom,” I would say, “Do you think it’s typhoid, the measles, the mumps, scarlet fever?” The doctor would be checking out my sister and I’d say, “you know Doc, it’s no use…it’s typhoid, get the tombstone ready.” I guess that’s why I never made it to medical school. Anyway, back to the trail. By month three Timmy had died, by what else, typhoid. I liked how you could write on the tombstones, and it would stay on there the next time you played it. It’s kind of sadistic, but my favorite part of the game was reading peoples tombstones. Oh course I would always put something sophomoric on Timmy’s Tombstone, like “He was a little shit.” Then I would laugh all day thinking about the next kid who would see it.

Oh course there were things about the Oregon trail that bothered me. How the hell did that thief steal all the clothes, including the ones on our backs? How did we all not notice a thief stealing the clothes off our very backs!? Maybe the whole family slept naked, which is creepy, but that’s my only explanation. So you would have to barrel along the trail, in the dead of winter, naked, because some crook stole all your clothes. Then a month later it would happen again! Can’t someone keep watch? We have a damn riffle that we keep in the wagon, shoot his ass!

Hunting in Oregon trail was always a lot of fun. But I never understood why we could only carry back 500 pounds of meat. Get the damn kids out of the wagon and have them carry some meat back. What are they doing anyway? I don’t care if one has a broken leg, get to it! I’d always get pissed when I would stop for hunting and it would be in a thick part, with lots of trees and rock. And the buffalo were always behind the rock. The only animals in reach were those stupid rabbits. So once hunting was over, it was back to the trail…that is until you hit the river. Oh damn that river! You were always bound to lose something. My wagon always tipped over! I always loved the graphic that would come up when your wagon tipped. It would tell you the things you lost, in this order, “1 set of clothing, 1 wagon wheel, 1 wagon tongue, 500 pounds of food, Jeff (drowned).” JEFF! Why is he last on the list? Shouldn’t he be the first on the list, I mean, he is a person and all! I remember reading that too. “Hmmm, one wagon wheel, not bad, 500 pounds, no problem, that’s just one buffalo I have to kill, and uh….JEFF! Oh no not JEFF! Why did it have to be JEFF!”

After months on the trail, it’s down to the finale. Just you…your wife, no wait she died too…just you…and the river. The finale of the game was very difficult. You had to go down a swift river while dodging rocks. Using the arrow keys frantically, you had to move left and right as fast as you could, or face death. I remember I made it once, after many many summer school days of trying. I saw the ending of the Oregon Trail. The kids from the other computers gathered around. I stood there, by myself…my family’s remains scattered all across the country, with tombstones reading, “Ah hell, she was a bitch anyway.” The stupid midi music from the game played, and I took it all in, looking over the beautiful hills, the rolling green, the scenery and acres upon acres of land and thought to myself, shit… I should have flown.