The Amiibo That Got Away
A lack of responsibilities puts me first in line at 2:30am outside of a Target, as I wait to buy a Robin, Lucina, and Jigglypuff. People start trickling in closer to five o’clock. The first one claims to work at a law firm who is taking the day off to secure his Amiibos. Nintendo only ships a handful of figures to each store, more than likely to feed the frenzy. When the manager comes out to say a few words, he tells me you can only buy two Amiibos - out of six new figures that just launched.
This is one of those moments when life can seem unfair, equal to the poverty and oppression happening throughout the world.
You may be thinking to yourself: “But Nate, a lack of amiibos isn’t on the same scale as starving children.”
Well, you’re catching on to how I’m trying to frame this exaggerated demand. Certainly if I was in a Third World country, I would be more concerned with “not dying” than completing my Amiibo collection. Curse my fortunate parents for conceiving me in the States! But alas, I’m well-off and want things. I’m just another American trying to fill this hole advertising has created. But to balance this global economic injustice in the world, I’d like to think the children assembling these Amiibos pocketed one - or two - straight out of the sweatshop and sold them for a ridiculous amount. Like some of those defective, dual-barrel Samus Amiibos you see pop up online that have to be right off the factory line.
Target was shipped twenty four Jigglypuffs, a bunch of lame-ass Wario’s, bunch of stupid-ass Charizards, three fine-ass Retro Marios, three sexy-ass Robins, but no ass-ass Lucina’s!
I figured I should go for the scarce ones first, then circle back in line to pick up Jigglypuff, since we only had 16 people in line. Everyone else has lives, or people who care about them enough to tell them to stop it. I get one of the three Robins and Retro Marios, then make my first attempt to hop back in line. Manager stops me. Says she has my face memorized and I have to come back several hours later.
With time to kill, I run a few stores down to a Toys “R” Us to take my chances on whatever was remaining. At Toys “R” Us again, I’m first one there. Everyone must be in the line for Target, except someone left a beach chair right in front of the door.
My sense of entitlement tossed that chair to the curb.
Beach-chair-owner returns and explains to me how he was using said item as a spot saver. My counter argument is that if hypothetically, I had a bunch of chairs and left one at each store, at what point would they be irrelevant. Hesitant to agree with me, I tell beach-chair-squatter that since he left, he gave up his position in the line.
Meanwhile the line continues to form behind us, everyone with differing opinions on who should be the first between us two. While we’re at an impasse, the Toys “R” Us manager pokes her head out, but doesn’t want to get involved. In the middle of this, I failed to notice one of the guys has left the line to “use the bathroom”, but to really pick up the last remaining Jigglypuff.
We decided to leave it up to a coin toss.
We have an unbiased third party provide a quarter and seat-filler flips. I call heads while it’s in the air, but it lands on tails. I should’ve known it would land on that end. The end appropriately used to fill a beach chair… if you had a tail… which he probably does, like the dirty dog he is… I lose and I am salty. I give him his spot back, adhering to the coin flip agreement.
So since he was first in line, he picks up one of each Amiibo, including the only Lucina they had. I’m able to pick up their last Ness… but second in line is too late for Lucina. I gambled and lost, but the day leaves me with an okay haul of Robin, Ness, Bowser Jr., Zero Suit Samus, and Retro Mario. Meanwhile I hate myself a little more for the ferocity and vigor I use arguing over a spot in line to buy toys.
Let this be a warning to all ye Amiibo hunters, bring a beach chair and leave it where you’re going next. As for me, Lucina will always be the one that got away…