PINBALL WIZARDS

There was an article about pinball machines in Sunday’s Parade magazine, which bounced me back to my own infamous pinball days in the early 1970s when I was addicted to the Miss-o machine at the Pizza Palace in Pittsburg.

Miss-o was one of several coin-eating diversions in the southwest corner of the pool room at the Palace. It was such a bitch of a challenge and in such demand that two people would often play it at once, and that’s how I became friends with Kathy Mac. She was left-handed, I was right, so we’d each finger our appointed flipper, showing off lightning-quick reflexes, zoned in on keeping that little silver ball in play. Sometimes we would rack up so many free games that we would draw crowds watching us with admiration. When we were flipped out for the night, we’d finally strut away in triumph.

Kathy Mac, a nursing major, was a short, squatty loudmouth who could, amazingly, tell dirty jokes, drink beer, laugh louder than anyone in the joint, and play pinball at the same time. I wasn’t so multi-talented. About the only word that came out of my mouth when we were playing was, “Damn!” on those rare occasions when I missed on Miss-o and the ball slid down the loser’s slot. Boo, hiss! But that didn’t happen often. Practice makes perfect, and I practiced a lot. If there had been a Miss Miss-o Contest at the Palace, I would have been the frontrunner, for sure. And Kathy Mac would have been right beside me.

Ah, the carefree days of my misspent youth! I sure do miss Miss-o.