Chuck E. Cheese Pizza

A big cheesy "thank you" to Caitlyn Laughner for filing this special report from the trenches.

One of the many drawbacks of parenthood is having to do things you don’t want to do. After years of promising my six year old son Hunter a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese, I finally gave in. There was just no legitimate reason for me to keep saying "no," and I figured Chuck E. Cheese is pretty much a rite of passage for most children these days.

But let me tell you something: Chuck E. Cheese is hell.

It is every parent’s worst nightmare—poorly coordinated, expensive, chaotic. 

When your evening begins, if you’ve had the foresight to book your party in advance, you are given a host. This host takes your order and gives you your schedule for the evening. That’s right: from the start you are on someone else’s schedule, and you must adhere to it. This timeframe ensures that everyone is doing all of the special birthday stuff together. 

In this case, “everyone” means everyone who is there for a birthday. Try having a kid who cries during the song “Happy Birthday,” then try having that kid sit through an entire building singing it. 

Add that to the fact that some parents bring extra kids, some parents drop their kids off (I don’t know what your daughter looks like, what do you want from me?), and Saturday night at this place is already plagued with massacre-worthy tears and bloodshed, we can safely assume that we’ve discovered why moms love wine.

When I was a kid, we had Discovery Zone, which was touted in the ubiquitous TV ads as a place for kids to "really cut loose." What reason do eight year olds have to cut loose? Who knows. 

As I recall, there were no games or tokens, just giant obstacle courses and fun, vaguely science-y stuff to physically engage with. While it was probably still expensive to have a party at Discovery Zone, you didn’t have to continually dole out cash. Plus, you knew your child was in that ball pit somewhere. (Teehee. The phrase “ball pit” didn’t have the same connotations then that it has today.)

Did I mention that Chuck E. Cheese has switched from time-honored metal tokens to touch sensitive, re-loadable cards? Try explaining to a bunch of cheese-smeared kindergartners how to check your card balance, and that you only touch the card thingy once for each game.

Hell just got deeper, my friend, and Dante himself couldn't conjure up a level of Purgatorio with this much retribution and vitriol in his wildest medieval fever-dreams. 

Of course, when I posted about this birthday party on Facebook, Paul jumped on the opportunity to have the pizza reviewed. Apparently, a single guy going into Chuck E. Cheese, eating pizza, and playing ski-ball alone raises a few eyebrows around these parts (and generally a police presence to boot). 

Because I’m insane, I foolishly agreed, not considering the fact that I needed to keep track of a million kids.

Normally, I don’t eat the pizza at Chuck E. Cheese. Let me correct that, normally I don’t even go to Chuck E. Cheese. But when I get dragged there, I tend to gravitate toward their decent salad bar. The pizza just doesn’t usually look good (I’ll let you judge for yourself), and having spent years working for Ruby Tuesday, I really like salad bars. 

Theirs is surprisingly impressive. They have romaine, spring mix, iceberg, tons of veggie toppings (including beets!!), a variety of cheeses, and plenty of crunchy topping options. I’m always pretty happy with the state of the bar itself, also. It’s astonishingly clean for its location, and usually well stocked. This nod in the direction of the over-25 set really goes a long way; thank you, CEC.

Basically, I’m a pizza snob. Pie aimed towards children tends to be bad. I know, I know, no pizza is really bad. But, there are definite determinants to taste. I was seasoning. I want a good sauce. I want lots of cheese and toppings. I like a thin, crispy crust. 

Being a mom, I got to my slice of pizza after it had been sitting for a while. I have really nice friends, Danielle and Sam, who, without children of their own, still came out to keep me company and play ski-ball (which is the only reason to come here, really). They watched my slice while I managed children. They helped me position my slice on the plate so that you guys could see the picture of Chuck E. Cheese himself, because I was too distracted to think about things like that. They reminded me to eat. 

This pizza could have easily been a freezer pizza. It tasted like one. The crust was crispy enough, but it was also very bland. It’s like they googled “easiest pizza dough ever” and used a ½ water + ½ flour recipe. The same could be said for the sauce, which seemed like mostly tomato paste. Hey, at least there was cheese, and pepperoni’s to pick off and eat on their own.

Now, maybe in our desire to appeal to the children with just cheese and pepperoni, we missed something. A couple at a booth close to ours got a supreme pizza, and it looked delicious. That’s the price we pay, though, to make the heathens happy.

Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go drink wine.

Caitlyn Laughner is a writer, mom, bibliophile, and soon-to-be graduate of IU Kokomo.