Halo Reach ID

I just wanted to buy Halo Reach. That's all.

All weekend, I planned on purchasing the new Xbox 360 game during my Tuesday lunch break. This would allow me to go home directly after work and avoid the brutal rush-hour traffic around my local Best Buy. I put my "Happy Birthday from Best Buy" gift card in the top drawer of my desk at work. With a $100 balance on the card, the only thing standing between me and Master Chief was 4th period.

The second hand moved with the speed of melting ice on a cool day. Though I usually appreciate student comments, today, minutes from Halo Reach, their inanity grated my patience. I kept glancing back at the top drawer of my desk, imagining the moment when I could fondle the plastic gift card and slide it into the cashier's scanner. So eager for the climax of my day, I held the card in my hand five minutes
before class even ended.

And when the bell finally released me, I shooed the children from their chairs as if the room was on fire. I power walked to my car and almost vehicular-manslaughtered the janitor as I cut through the lines of the parking lot. Down the street, the deep blue of the Best Buy sign taunted me like the ocean taunting a captive goldfish.

In the moment of sweet release, I got into the Customer Service line, stacks of Halo Reach a mere three feet away. "Next in line," never sounded so beautiful. I slammed my pre-order receipt on the counter and said, "One standard Halo Reach please." The female cashier mockingly smirked at my nerdy bravado. I didn't care; I could taste firefight and forge modes, Spartans and Elites.

"Can I see your ID?"

In my feverish haste, I sped to Best Buy without my driver's license on my person. I had no form of identification to purchase the "Mature" rated title with realistic blood and gore. I pleaded with her, showing her my car keys and necktie: "Would someone under 18 be wearing this in the middle of the day?" My fingers grew wet with frustration. Sweat bled onto my gift card. It was no use: the tiny girl would not budge for my logic. I walked back to my car knowing I wouldn't have time to return until after school, when traffic would ensnare me.

Some people like getting carded. In their folksy voices, I hear crinkled women say, "Oh, I take it as a compliment!" People can only be happy when they don't have something at stake. Or maybe old women just don't care about alcohol or video games.