The leaps and bounds movie and television studios will go to put their current mega release on everything they possibly can has always been a source of amusement to me. Marketing and PR whores (This includes men.) use terms such as "synergy" and "cross-market promotion." Those of us who have had real sales experience call it "Throwing stuff at a wall and seeing what sticks."
George Lucas is the Grand Master of getting his latest blockbuster onto every conceivable product possible. Combine this determination with the deep pockets of Paramount Pictures and I was surprised when didn't see Harrison Ford's mug on something.
It had become a blur until this box caught my attention.
An adventure spoon?
Every time I say it the first bit of the theme music plays in my head. Kind of like this:
"An Adventure Spoon?" (Da dat-dat-daa.)
Try it with me:
"An Adventure Spoon?" (Da dat-dat-daa.)
Again, but with feeling!
"An Adventure Spoon!" (Da dat-dat-daa.)
Something else caught my attention:
"INSIDE"
Seems strange that this word registered last considering it is twice the size of the text for "Adventure Spoon." One reason for the huge text is that I have noticed that it has become rare to find prizes inside the boxes of children's cereals.When I was growing up they were everywhere. The only reason I would eat those preservative and sugar coated grains was the little toy at the bottom of the cereal.
Pacing the cereal aisle of the grocery store my selection was not based on how much I like the taste of it, but what was waiting at the bottom. A fresh box of pre-diabetic inducing artificully flavored pretend food was not the reason I would tear into a new box as if I had been fasting for three months. No, it was the trading card, sticker, miniture licease plate, plastic choking hazard, or whatever else was at the bottom of that endless void that pushed me to the edge of a sugar coma every morning.
If you were the impatient type there were a few options avaible to reach the bottom at a much quicker pace. One was to dump all the cereal out into a really big bowl. The problem with this was getting the cereal back into the box without making a mess. A second option was to simply trust your arm all the way down into the box and root around for the prize. If you choose this option it was necessary to make sure you were the only one eating that cereal. Both of those options had the adverse side effect of making to box look slightly distorted.
A more subtle approach was to tilt the box from side to side after each bowl in an effort to uncover the prize at the bottom. When this worked you would either shake it out or simply shove your arm in there and grab it. This tactic was usally the best because the box didn't look all mangled, so your parents still think you haven't gotten to the bottom where the toy is. Since they don't really know what is going on you just leave the box on the shelf and wait for the next trip to the grocery store.
Two other favorite options were to "accidentally" throw some of the contents away each time you ate or to let the dog help you finish the bowl.
These memories floated around in my mind while I stared at the box. Then I thought, 'You know, I could use a spoon. Especially for camping.'
The thought of eating something as awful for you as Apple Jacks caused me to turn and continue on with my shopping. But then I remember something else that box showed - the spoon lit up.
Quickly I turned back and examined the box. Indeed the spoon on the front did have a kind of glow to it. The back of the box said it did light up. Not just glow, but light up. As an extra incentive: batteries were included. Satisfied that this was the perfect spoon for camping I tossed it into the cart.
I have been eating this sugar crash inducing load of empty carbs for three weeks now. After I had gotten halfway through the box I started doing the old side to side prize check manuver. Each time I had some I would check. Each time no spoon would reveal itself. It was very difficult to resist the urge of shoving my hand in there to dig for it.
Patience was a virtue and that spoon would be my reward. Thus I kept eating at the steady pace until I reached the last quarter of the box. It was enough for one mabye two bowls. Now the cereal moved very fluidly when I shifted it from side to side. There was no spoon visible. Either this spoon was the smallest utinsil ever made or I had been jacked of my prize glory.
'To hell with being patient,' I thought, 'I want to know where the hell this fricken spoon is' and lift the bag out from the box. Peering through the clouded plastic I could not see anything resembling a spoon. Lots of green, yellow, and orange circles but no prize.
I did not eat this crap to receive no reward. I mean, do you realize how much dye they put in this garbage to turn it green, orange, or yellow. Even processed grain is brown.
I was about to toss the box aside in disgust when I felt something move inside. I turned the box over and something fell out. Wrapped securely in plastic packaging was the spoon in two pieces. The box said nothing about some assembly required, but I wasn't going to complain.
It came together easily and thankfully was a decent size. A flick of the switch and a push of the button.
And no more protein surprises while chowing down soup in the moth infested night.
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