They're Only Starter Teeth

If you'd like to take a quick jaunt back to the 1980s with me, i'll tell you everything that i remember. Here it is:

Candy.

That's all. Candy. Oh and getting lost. I've got three stories, which breaks down to two of each. Strangely enough, both of the candy stories involve me being terrified out of my mind, and that is the catalyst which brought me the candy. So, if you're a child under the age of ten, i recommend getting lost and scared as a means to obtaining the sacred sugary goodness.

The non-candy story doesn't have much to it; i'm only relating it here because it happened in the 80s and i think i have a vague memory of it. This may be a fallacy; it's entirely possible that i only remember this because my mom told me this story multiple times throughout my youth. But basically, we were at Woodman's, which is an expansive grocery store chain in Wisconsin and northern Illinois. My mom, still relatively new to this whole "parenting" thing, set me down by the pile of oranges while she picked out some fresh fruits and vegetables. Bear in mind that, at this particular Woodman's location, the produce section is the first thing you see when you walk into the building. So this happened like immediately.

So, my mom continues to shop, and after making the two-hour journey through the store, she comes to the checkout, and suddenly realizes that she used to have a baby. This item is no longer in her cart! Her misplaced progeny was found at the front of the store, on top of the pile of oranges, happy and giggling. I don't know that any candy was involved in my recovery, but i'm assuming probably not.

I wonder what ever happened to those oranges.

That one was clearly first, i've no idea the chronology of the other two, but i'm still relatively sure they happened in the 80s.

I was terrified of escalators when my age was in the single digits. I don't know why. And come to think of it, i'm not really sure how i ended up on the second story of the Boston Store at Madison's East Towne Mall that day, since the only way to traverse the levels is via escalator. But i outright refused to go back down. I was screaming and crying and making a hell of a scene, but the mall was closing so there wasn't much of a crowd. Sooner or later, my parents decided to just get on the damn escalator and suffer me throughout the ride down. Though they did not dare walk down the escalator, even though it would have sped the journey, lest my cries of agony become increased a thousandfold.

I was promised candy, not just any candy, but the candy from the candy store in the mall, which i must have been very fond of though it must have been expensive. This was a promise they could not possibly deliver on, since the mall was pretty well closed by then. You know, i'm really not sure how all these details work out in this story, it's pretty fuzzy. Maybe my mom could fill in the details i'm missing, but it's more likely she'd say this story never happened. But i know better.

There was this lady who was near the bottom of the escalator who noticed my plight, and like a true superhero, decided to intervene. She climbed back up the down escalator until she had reached our position and took me from my mom. "I work at the candy store," she assured us.

I spontaneously calmed down. I suffered the remainder of the descent silently, although i can't say as there was much of a descent left by that point. The lady then took us to the candy store, where i was fed a good variety of candy while my parents socialized with her.

It's entirely possible that this person was somebody that my parents knew, and in fact may even be somebody who i knew or even still know. I'm not sure. But i'd rather not know, if it is...i'd prefer to continue to think of this person as the magical candy genie who saved my life once. So if anybody knows the magical candy genie's identity, please keep it to yourself.

My final 80s tale takes place at the Henry Vilas Zoo on Halloween. The thing i'll probably always remember best about Halloween at the zoo is these cheap little flashlights that Rayovac handed out to everybody. They were rectangular and black and ergonomically incorrect.

Well, my flashlight and i got separated from my parents. Being little more than knee-high, i panicked, and started darting neurotically about the darkened zoo, the insufficient and oddly-shaped luminance from my Rayovac flashlight suddenly my best friend.

Eventually my flashlight and i ended up in the hands of security, who took me to the concession stand for safekeeping until my parents could be located. Once there, i was shown how cotton candy is made. When my parents finally arrived at the concession stand, they were made to wait while the vendor whipped up the largest stick of cotton candy i'd ever laid eyes on. It was probably twice the size of my head. And so i went home happy.

If anything else occurred between 1980 and 1989, i'm not aware of it.