Jan 09, 2009 - 04:05:05 CST
Have you ever wanted something so badly, something so very rare that the chances of you actually finding it and attaining it are so miniscule that it only makes you want it all the more?Yes, I guess I could be talking about true love, but no, I'm actually talking about "Wii Fit." But "Wii Fit" is sort of a symbol of love, in that Iwant one so that I can be in peak physical condition for my wedding this year to my own true love, the sweet Annette, and because she has wanted me to find one for her so she could do the same.
Whatever my true love wants, I'm going to get it for her. So what if it's a video game?
And what a ridiculous video game it is. Imean, seriously, there's no exercise in the "Wii Fit" game that I can't do for free in my own living room, without the use of a plastic scale and computer disc. Icould fill a bag up with heavy rocks and lug it up and down stairs, and get more exercise than Iwould from "Wii Fit." Rocks are at least readily available. I can step outside right now and get all the rocks I want. Can I say the same of "Wii Fit?"
No, Icannot, because "Wii Fits" are terribly difficult to find in stores. Every day at 8 a.m., Iwas up, calling the poor electronics workers at all the local retailers, asking them, "Did you get the 'Wii Fit' in today? How about tomorrow? When do your trucks come in? Can I come over and help you unload the truck?"
Every trip out of my home had to involve at least one stop at Wal-Mart, Best Buy, Kmart or Gamestop. Every one of them fruitless.
Iswear, I've never gotten as much exercise as Ihave had in trying to track down this video game. There's an irony in that.
And so, on a day unlike any other, I stopped at Target on my supper break from work earlier this week. Mostly, Ijust wanted a frozen pizza, but of course, Iwas also going to check for this wretched video game.
So Iwalked those same 178 steps from the store's electric doors to the Nintendo Wii aisle. And as Iturned into that aisle, and looked upon those always-empty shelves, I nearly passed out when I actually saw a single box, containing a "Wii Fit," sitting lonely on that shelf.
Igrabbed it and began petting it like it were a cat. "My precious,"I whispered to it. I looked over every inch of the box, just to make sure it actually was a "Wii Fit" and I wasn't about to accidentally purchase a sewing machine filed on the wrong shelf.
No, it was actually a "Wii Fit." So Ibegan the process of strutting around the store, showing off my treasure to all the other lonely souls. A stranger lady yelled out, "Hey!"from behind me. Either she recognized my face from this newspaper or she saw that I'd just gotten the last "Wii Fit" in existence. Ididn't stick around long enough to find out.
Ihave never enjoyed any phone call so much as Ienjoyed the call Imade to my love, my sweet Annette, to tell her that my epic quest was at an end, that Ihad conquered the dragon and would now bring home its head on a pike as her prize. Victory was mine!
With our video game in hand, my fiancee and Iwill soon be "Fit to be tied" in marriage. Thanks, Nintendo.
(Columnist Kelly Hagen is slightly overweight and terribly uncoordinated, according to his rude "Wii Fit." Tell him otherwise at 250-8259 or kelly.hagen@bismarcktribune.com .)
Paul wrote on Jan 11, 2009 9:10 AM:
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