![]() ![]() There are about thirty other people in the arcade that night. The arcade isn’t so crowded for a Saturday night. We’re tempted to stop and take a selfie, but we’re ready to play pinball, so we pass. We proceed through the metal turnstile to enter the arcade past an eight-foot-tall plastic Elvis statue on the right side of the turnstile. He tears off the small plastic tab on each band, wraps them around our wrists and affixes the adhesive strip to the wrist band. He glances over his shoulder at the simple black round clock hanging on the wall behind him reading 7:35, then grabs two red paper wristbands and writes 8:35 on each. “Two people for one hour,” I reply, handing him my credit card for payment. I love that the machines are set up on free play no need to bring a stack of quarters and pile them up on the glass top of the machine, staking out your claim no disappointing sting if your game lasts only two minutes-the next game is just a tap away from the “Start” button. At just $15/hour, it’s the best entertainment deal around. ![]() His lack of enthusiasm contrasts with our excitement and eagerness and the promising “bong, bong, ding-ding-ding-ding” of the machines. “Welcome to Silverball Museum,” the arcade employee says in a rote greeting. ![]() But we’re not interested in merchandise we’ve come to play pinball. Silverball “retro arcade” sweatshirts and ball caps are for sale under the glass ticket counter. Machines are lined shoulder to shoulder in neat rows and along all four walls of the arcade, with more rows of machines lined up to create several aisles. As we open the door we are greeted by the sight and sounds of a sea of pinball machines. It’s a plain cement building with tinted glass windows that hide the treasures that await inside. From the outside, it doesn’t look like much. She may even find a machine she played in her younger years.Īfter a 5-minute walk along the boardwalk we arrive at Silverball. She’ll be thrilled when she finds the arcade has pinball machines from the 1950’s and 1960’s. Mom has no idea what delights await her inside the arcade, but I know she enjoys anything with a touch of nostalgia. No sooner have I paid the dinner tab then I’m thinking about the dilemma in front of me: which pinball machine will I play tonight? I’ve gone to Silverball Museum pinball arcade dozens of times already and I have several machines that I consider my favorites. Other evenings we might linger over dessert, but tonight we’ve got pinball to play. “You mean that new pinball arcade on the boardwalk? That sounds great.” Mom looks at me quizzically, then her face lights up. “Let’s play pinball after dinner!” I say. She now looks at the shell of the arcade where she once played Skee-Ball and rode the carousel after a day of swimming in the ocean. I suspect she’s reliving in her mind her teen years riding a bus to Asbury Park with her girlfriends for a day of fun at the Jersey Shore. As dessert arrives I catch Mom staring out over the water, watching the waves crash on the sand. Mom and I have been lucky enough to secure a table by the window on the second floor of Stella Marina overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. ![]()
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