Bit of a sensory overload, but how could you resist?
Video stores are actually something that I had little experience with.
When I was a kid my parents made it exceedingly clear that I could have whatever I wanted... as long as I deserved it. And while the terms of such sweetheart deal were never made explicitly clear to me, they seemed to involve doing well in school and generally being a well-behaved kid (which was easier said than done). I remember the sheer excitement I got out of earning cool rewards like getting to dine on Florida Street one Saturday while roaming the incredibly scenic area with my parents. Stuff like that made the grueling amounts of work I had to put in just to earn it feel completely justified, and even fun.
Unfortunately... I was a really mediocre student. Like, really mediocre. And so, the rewards were often unattainable for me. That actually stung quite a bit, but I remember taking it quite well even as such tender age. I had agreed to those rules and it was squarely my fault that I didn't get to cash in on the results of my half-hearted attempts at meeting said goals.
In no time flat I was stuck trading Genesis cartridges with my friends and calling it a weekend, because my report cards weren't good for anything else, not even an ice cream as the school year was winding down and summer drew near.
But things were shifting quite rapidly at the time, and soon it was very easy to get to the cool stuff without actually having to grind for it. Because, let me tell you, driving to the local Blockbuster just to get something to watch each Saturday felt monumental and important, a commitment that my parents just weren't going to accept without me delivering something in return, and so it was easy for them to just not do that as a form of soft punishment for failing to meet my academic goals.
A time capsule: this one is still around.
Change came in style with the advent of "Todo Por 2 Pesos" stores (think Dollar Stores and Poundland, but for South America).
Traditionally a marriage between toy stores, grocery stores and school supply stores, Todo Por 2 Pesos sprung up like crazy and soon expanded into the extraordinarily lucrative movies and videogames industry, overshadowing Blockbuster as the go-to business to rent game carts and movies. It was an absolute paradise having one of those within walking distance of my own home, and soon my parents caved-in and favored their own convenience (they were movie junkies themselves) over a well-meaning encouragement system that had nonetheless failed.
What I liked the most about my local video store was that the guy running it had absolutely no idea what he was selling, nor did he pretend to. You could ask him pointblank if he had a Sonic game for rent and he would just shrug and ask you if you had spotted it yourself, even if a whole row of those games was directly in front of him. It was great.
I remember buying my original SEGA Genesis on his store and him being barely able to tell what it was (even calling it a "Nintendo" in the process, which was gasp-worthy sacrilege for my kid-self). Stuff like that was commonplace and strangely charming. It also worked marvelously as a confidence booster, because I really felt like I was the more knowledgeable person on that conversation.
He was also extraordinarily chill about the whole thing, not batting an eye even if you tried to rent something that was clearly meant for a more mature audience. I'll forever remember how my dumb eight-year-old self had become fascinated with the cover of Stephen King's "IT" and decided to rent it. Guy... just let me, and it was such a traumatic experience that I can still remember hiding under the kitchen table during the vast majority of its runtime. I also rented the TMNT: Coming Out Of Their Shells Tour that same weekend, at my dad's insistence, because he probably thought that it would be easier to digest... but it was somehow even more traumatic (and I never finished it, despite forgetting to return it and never been asked about it). Pure movie magic.
"Funny clown! Can we rent this one, pleeeease?" ~ Me, having the survival instincts of a lemming.
For a couple of really sweet years, going to that store each and every Saturday proved to be the nicest part of my entire week. Just walking through its crammed halls and taking a look at all the Genesis and SNES games that were staring at me from their shelves or looking at the cool covers of all the movies that were placed as high up as they'd go was a mesmerizing experience. Giving a spin to the rotatory display carrying copies of the summer's biggest hits became almost an obsession that I could never outgrow, even if the vast majority of those movies looked painfully boring to me.
Some of my fondest memories include having friends over (or going to spend the night at a friend's house) just to be greeted by the omnipresent stack of VHS tapes that were placed there well in advance by our parents (and if we had been particularly good, we would get a ride to the store to pick them up ourselves, because we had totally earned the right to do that and have complete control over our weekend).
Much like internet cafes, however, these stores were also punished quite heavily by the advance of technology. Once affordable DVDs hit the scene, it was pretty much all over for these. The "fire sale" of Genesis and SNES games (as well as leftover movies and other inventory that needed to be cleared) officially marked the end of the video store era for me, but that didn't mean that they'd go down quietly, as some pockets of resistance still existed and provided a much-needed link of reality at a time when every single form of media you could consume could be obtained digitally (or at least pirated).
There is some undeniable beauty to this whole thing, isn't there? Just the mechanical noises the VCR would make upon "eating" the tape are enough to get me down memory lane.
I remember walking to a gas station with my dad after we had gotten lost trying to find one of the last remaining internet cafe that was rumored (yes, rumored) to be on the area and being greeted by a couple of teenagers who had just set up shop on a side store. Not only did they really knew what they were talking about, but they were bona fide gamers through and through.
The girl was extraordinarily knowledgeable of all things platformers and seemed to have a mastery of the genre, whilst her parent knew exactly which games would run on your system after hearing the barest overview of its components. In a landscape full of people who were just working a job, hearing these two who actually connected to the products they were selling was awesome and a true breath of fresh air.
They were also remarkably cheeky, with the girl opening admitting that they'd steal their own inventory just to play the games back home before they'd have to return them to the store after their stock had grown dangerously low. I almost couldn't believe it when I heard that, and then she went on a moaning tirade about how she just had to sell their last copy of the newest Tomb Raider game before she could finish it. I was taken completely aback by it, and I was also completely in love with their general vibe and attitude.
The store was gone incredibly fast (maybe because of their, uh, unsavory business practices) but for a while, I was a regular in there and I often showed up just to hear what crazy story of gaming prowess or heartbreak they'd share next. I still have the four games they recommended to me. As expected, I loved every single one of them, with Interstate Nitro Pack 76 being my favorite of the bunch.
I haven't been able to play this one in years, but it still amazes me how well they knew me. Even my sister played this one religiously, and she was no gamer.
What I find most interesting, however, is that I just don't feel the same disconnection or "generational gap" when talking about video stores with my children as I do with, say, internet cafes. Sure, the stores might be almost totally gone by now, but the fundamental principle that once drove them is still there and hasn't really changed in the twenty-plus years since.
Let me explain... while you definitely save a lot of fuel and time by not having to drive to (and back) a physical store just to get your movie experience going, you are still just as likely to throw your entire weekend down the drain by making an uninformed decision and picking a complete stinker to watch after your hard week of work/study. It's a lot easier to swallow now because Netflix and the other billion services that offer this now allow you to try again immediately, but most of us are still picking what to watch based on what we see on trailers and covers, not unlike how we used to pick our entertainment on the old days, watching clips and trailers on the stores and browsing the artwork of the many flicks and games that were fighting tooth and nail for our attention. I think that's to be treasured, because very few things get to evolve that way.
Do I miss these? Yes, because I strongly resent the sedentarism-as-a-lifestyle "ethos" that was sold to us long ago and that we are somehow still embracing. Any excuse to get up and do something was appreciated, even if that something involved sitting down even harder later. But, in reality, my nostalgia doesn't even need to go that far because a remarkable number of these still exist (some even thrive) in this environment. Not every grandpa can figure out the internet nor every student can afford Netflix, and that's what allows some of these to keep going strong, despite being pushed further and further away by modernity.
It pleases me immensely that they stand as the forgotten border between the old and the new.
What about you, though? What video store memories can you share?
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