Ornoth

Back in high school, I hung out with an interesting crowd. Among our pursuits was wargaming, and we’d occasionally go over to the local game store in the evening for a session of Diplomacy or maybe some Napoleonic or medieval miniatures.

The local gaming store was run by Hal, an aging veteran who’d been partially deafened in the war. Hal was the nicest guy you can imagine, although he’d talk your ear off, and we kids enjoyed giving him a verbal jab every now and again.

Like many such businesses in my home town, the building was a residence turned into a business. Most of the first floor had been converted into a retail bookstore, while the kitchen and upper floors were still living space.

So one evening we arrived with a plan. A number of us showed up a bit earlier than expected, while Hal and his wife Alice were still finishing their supper in the kitchen. The standard procedure was to mill about the store for a bit while all the players arrived.

Now, in addition to games, Hal also sold books, plastic models, topo maps, and the like. Among his wares was a very large plastic model of the (original) Starship Enterprise. The box alone was probably two feet by three feet, and it was displayed prominently above one of the racks.

So, while Hal and Alice were eating, a couple of us peered into the kitchen and engaged Hal in light conversation. Meanwhile, around the corner, our friend Mark proceeded to open up the Enterprise box and transfer all its contents into a soft-sided briefcase he invariably carried.

I don’t know how long the Enterprise box sat on that shelf, empty, but I know it was many months. Nor do I know the circumstances under which the switch was revealed, although I envision some 13 year old boy coming up to Hal with the intent of buying the model, asking for its contents.

All I know is that we got away with a pretty amusing childhood prank, and for the rest of my life I’ll always smile whenever I hear anyone talking about the benefits of “free enterprise”.