#140. Fuzzieland (Friday, January 14, 2000)

What was your best day…of being happy, without thinking there was any alternative?

My first ever Pokémon Red save file—where I’d blindly made it all the way to Celadon City on New Year’s Eve (#67)—had been unceremoniously deleted by my dad a few days after surviving Y2K. And that was the end of my Pokémon obsession. The passing fad had now passed.

No, of course not.

Because after two days back at school from the holidays, and multiple lunch recesses watching kids explore even more exotic locales (like the Safari Zone!), I was back to begging my parents to let me play again. My mom was reasonable about it: only on Fridays, but for as long as I wanted after school. Which meant, for the next few months at least, most of my life’s happiness would be concentrated on those few precious hours each week. Friday evenings were now an event.

It got off to a strange start. The Friday before had been very odd in a way that defies explanation. I came into the day with an intense anticipation of starting a new Pokémon Red save now that I knew what the hell I was doing (#67)—except, well, which starter Pokémon to choose. Squirtle had always been the default agreed on with my best friend Harry Liu (#108, #87), but the day before, on the van ride home, he suddenly started imploring me to instead go with Charmander. His entire argument was that Charizard had wings and could therefore fly—which was particularly persuasive given Charizard couldn’t actually learn the move Fly in the original games. It started turning confrontational… but then the van reached his house, and I figured we’d continue the debate tomorrow.

Friday morning starts off with an eye exam, which makes me a few hours late for school. I walk into the classroom, and everything seems a bit… off. I myself am in a semi-dazed state, the class is in the middle of a loud back-and-forth on a topic I don’t remember, and several of my classmates seem to be wearing clothing that’s distinctly more colorful than what they normally wear. I’m thinking: “This is pretty cool that I came in late and we’re in this surreal setting. It’s gonna be fun talking with Harry about this!” But then I turn to his seat and… Harry isn’t there.

What the hell? That sends this already “off” day completely over the edge. (Turns out he had gotten really sick the night before—serves him right for wanting Charmander—and was throwing up all day.) Turns out about nine students are sick that day—they thought ten before I came in. And the rest of the school day proceeds in a paradoxical state of both heightened and dulled sensitivity, an aura that carries over into my uninterrupted four-hour Pokémon binge this night, from Pallet Town (where I naturally choose Squirtle) to Mt. Moon.

For a nine-year-old, once the first highly anticipated version of something gets contaminated by a day that just feels wrong, the second one doesn’t need anything extraordinary. It only needs everything to feel normal again.

And that is exactly this Friday. Just the fact that this isn’t the previous Friday (and Harry is back and accepted my Squirtle choice) automatically gives the whole afternoon one of those “everything is happy, everyone is getting along, and it all just feels so good” moods. This is capped off by the last activity of the day: our teacher Ms. Ridley reading us a story called “Fuzzieland”.

And despite us being in fourth grade, we gather around the front of the room—some students lying down and leaning on each other like it’s kindergarten naptime—to listen to the story, which is exactly as deep as the title makes it sound. The whole plot is that everyone in this Fuzzieland has access to these things called warm fuzzies that make them feel warm and fuzzy. But then some evil warlock comes and ruins everything by introducing cold pricklies which… do exactly what they say. I don’t even know how the story concludes. All I know is that following this inspirational tale, we get assigned to draw pictures of what we think those two subtly titled objects are supposed to look like.

So that’s that. A serene, perfect afternoon to end the week—following the chaos of the week before—and leading into an equally perfect Pokémon Red binge tonight. Nothing could ruin it. Definitionally, nothing could.

Even Ms. Ridley, right after our art session and before the closing bell, walking by and seeing my empty Thursday agenda entry and randomly screaming at me in front of the whole class and demanding I explain myself… even that barely made a dent in such a happy, fuzzy-filled day.