It’s video games and video game products, where I’m clearly not the target. The people look different, act different, and speak, well frankly, Japanese. It might as well be. I had absolutely no idea what they were saying.
My grandson however, understood everything perfectly. He and the proprietor had a meaningful conversation. I assume it was about all things games. But it could’ve been about chop sticks for all I know.
I was clueless.
At one point, they noticed my eyes glazed over, and my mouth agape. They led me to a tiny vinyl records display, sat me on a stool, and brought me a water. It was a charitable act, and I appreciated it.
Later, they brought me a warm blanket, and Lois drove me home. By that evening I was back to normal, watching old movies on DVD and counting pennies. I’ll be fine.
And the game store? I wish them well.
But bless their hearts. I won’t be back.