Opener: Image via Flickr
I grew up with four older brothers–which means I watched a lot of air hockey.
It seems everyone’s wood paneled basement/rec room had one of those huge-ass games. Not as prententious as billiards. Not as pokey and annoying as foosball. Just right.
Via Flickr.
Via Paul-W.
I remember our huge air hockey table as being a perfect place to play under with my dolls and a blanket. That is until my brothers turned the beast on and it hummed and began to vibrate with airy awesomeness.
I still remember the very distinct sound that puck made when it connected with the little plastic handled guard. Â And it was not unusual for the puck to go careening off the table and hitting one of my brothers somewhere in the face region.
Air hockey was pretty serious then. I remember that there were two types of holds. A.) The full hand hold which allowed for more bicep power. And then there was B.) the finger hold, which looked more cavalier looking, but allowed for quicker movements.
My brothers often played to the death. None of them would ever back down from an air hockey challenge which often led to many a girlfriend sitting limply to the side bored out of her mind waiting for them to finish the blasted game.
Nowadays, home air hockey tables are a rare sighting. Perhaps ditched in the eighties making room for a bowflex or whatever new fad was popular. Sigh.
Now and then, I’ll see one at an arcade or estate sale and I can’t help but remember those sad, forgotten girlfriends waiting for my brothers to finish the game. And the winner dances my brothers would perform after they scored the final shot.
Via Flickr.
Did you play air hockey?
