Something happened when I was 13 years old. Something magical. Something unbelievable. Something that, in many ways, shook my very idea of what this existence meant.
I won at a claw machine.
Twice in a row.
Being a young man of great sophistication, I was at Denny’s in Racine. This was a Denny’s I knew well, patronized for years by my family, and every time we went for breakfast, on the way out the door, I would stop by the claw machine in the foyer and fight for glory. Inevitably, I would fail. That claw machine was impossible to win. In fact after digesting many All-American Grand Slams, I became convinced that this was a rigged claw machine, designed by The Man to steal quarters from hard working men and women. This, I thought, was life – a series of futile attempts at meaning struck down again and again by the cruel hand of a brutal reality.
Well, one day, after absolutely wrecking some scrambled eggs, I ponied up to that claw machine, and per usual, I deposited my coin. I maneuvered the claw over the pit of plushies. When I finally pressed the button, the claw descended, caught a coiled snake around its dingus region, lifted it, and dropped it down the chute for me to claim.
My God.
My victory earned a second quarter from my mother, and let me tell you, I nearly lost my mind when the claw then snatched up a little stuffed lemur with gigantic googly eyes.
Fate was defied that day – not once, but twice. This was a feeling I’ve never replicated. It didn’t matter that I was 13 years old and not really in the market for stuffed animals anymore. It didn’t matter that the snake was made of cloth so cheap a strong wind could eviscerate it. All that mattered was that I had beaten the unbeatable, and those two stuffed animals were my hard-earned trophies.
So long story short, I was kinda pumped when I learned that Brookfield has a claw machine arcade.
Yes, that’s right. In Brookfield, you can find an arcade exclusively dedicated to claw machines. It’s called, fittingly, Claw Frenzy (13695 W. Capitol Dr., Brookfield).
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A couple weeks ago, my fellow editors at MilMag commanded me: “Archer, you must make a saucy pilgrimage to this place. Perform journalism up on it. Use the claw machines. Write of what you discover.”
“I live to serve,” I said.
“And please, we beseech you, do not attribute weird quotes to us in dumb medieval talk.”
“Never,” I said, and then set out to Claw Frenzy with a story to write.
What is a claw machine arcade like? What kind of experience does it offer? And most importantly, what can someone win on a trip?
One thing I knew before going was a cruel truth that I couldn’t hide from – I am old and weird-looking. Well, maybe not that old but definitely too old to show up alone at a claw machine arcade all pale and hunched over in my dirty jacket and stained boots, muttering about journalism. So I recruited a couple business associates to make myself seem like slightly less of a weirdo, and we set out one night to see what’s what’s up at Claw Frenzy.
We walked into the arcade prepared to play. In many ways, the place resembles a whimsical laundromat, with the washing and drying machines replaced by brightly lit claw ones. Plentiful prizes beckon from within those machines, as well as larger ones mounted above them for the biggest winners. Bouncy tunes from K-Pop Demon Hunters blasted from overhead speakers.
The way the operations works is pretty simple. One dollar buys you one token. One token buys you one attempt at one claw machine of the over two dozen in the place. If you’re looking for other entertainment besides those machines … I’m not sure why you came to a place called Claw Frenzy. It’s claws here, baby.
What’s on offer in these machines? Many plushies, largely of the bright and Labubu variety. One machine was replete with little Santa Clauses, another with Marvel and DC superheroes, another with small bears whose eyes, I believe, followed me with malevolent intent.
I shelled out $15 at the front desk for 15 tokens, as did my two “This Guy’s Not a Creep” cover companions.
Before visiting I had wondered if perhaps these machines, being part of a cafe of exclusively claw machines, would be easier than the type of machines I’ve used at other arcades (aka Denny’s). I was wrong.
My first attempt was for a little Santa Clause, despite the season having passed. The machine interface was simple: one joystick, one button. I inserted my coin and began maneuvering the stick, causing the claw to sway as it slid over the pile of scattered Kris Kringles.
After selecting my target – a jolly one positioned near the top of a pile, primed for clawing – I pressed the button and the claw descended. The plastic-tipped arms glided right off Father Christmas’ chubby cheeks.
Sadness.
I tried again, and the claw knocked Santa over instead of lifting him.
I tried a third time, and again I failed.
This failure became a consistent pattern for me – much like when I swipe right on dating apps. Whatever machine I tried, I could not win: no Batman, no bear, no cat, not even a Labubu. I was starting to get the embarrassment sweats after yet another failed attempt. (They’re similar to the meat sweats but smellier.) I nearly burned through all my 15 coins in about 5 minutes. Claw Frenzy was potentially, I realized, a bit of an expensive proposition if you’re a rapid-fire claw maniac like myself.
With only a couple coins left, I had the claw positioned beautifully over an animal right on the very edge of the chute, and instead of pushing it over the edge the claw flipped it in the exact opposite direction, sending it about as far away from me as physically possible. I wondered if humanity’s purpose in life is just to suffer.
What’s the point? Is life just one claw after another lowered into an abyss, grasping for some reward and finding nothing, returning empty-handed, mocking laughter echoing in your skull as you leave this mortal coil plushie-less and pathetic.
But then something beautiful unfolded.
A Claw Frenzy worker opened a few of the machines to reload the plushies, and by adding to the burgeoning pile made some of the plushies (hopefully) easier to grasp. Heck yeah. With that, I realized all was not lost. Thirty dollars deep, we could still leave this place weighed down by at least one toy.
Invigorated with a newfound sense of purpose, I went to one of the machines the helpful worker had re-stocked. With a smooth maneuver of the claw (…after another failed attempt or three), I won myself a little yellow bear.
His name is Algernon. He is my friend now.
My business associates also won at Claw Frenzy – taking home a hippo and a Santa. (And also a little cheeseburger. The patty has a pig’s face on it, which really weirds me out honestly.)
“Perhaps meaning in this life is to be found not in the suffering, but in the brief moments when the help of another alleviates that suffering,” I thought. “Perhaps, even, it is found in the commiseration of companions as they strive toward greater goals – and celebrate those furtive achievements together. For those who walk with us know how difficult the road has been.”
“Ready to go to Culver’s?” I said.
I left Claw Frenzy that day technically victorious, the faint echoes of my Denny’s childhood glory in the air, Algernon under my arm, and a rekindled appreciation for the glory of a small win.
