The cool breeze of a September night drifted through the open window as I walked to my friend Craig's house for a sleepover. It was 1993, and these nights were everything—an opportunity to stay up too late, eat too many snacks, and play video games until our thumbs were sore. Sleepovers with Craig were the best, and I knew this one would be no exception.

Craig and I had been best friends for years. We shared a love for video games, goofy jokes, and our favorite sleepover activity—Mad Libs. When I arrived at his house that night, Craig’s mom greeted me with a smile and snacks in hand, which we eagerly snatched up before retreating to Craig's room.

Our night began with Mad Libs, and as usual, it quickly descended into chaos. If you've ever played, you know the deal—coming up with the most ridiculous words you can imagine, plugging them into a story, and watching it turn into complete nonsense. We were on fire that night, coming up with absurd combinations like "Craig’s pet cat decided to swim in a giant bowl of spaghetti while wearing a pink tutu." Each story was more outrageous than the last, and we couldn't stop laughing. We were trying to keep it down, but we were cracking up so loudly that we lost track of the time.

Suddenly, the door to Craig's room flew open, and there stood Craig's dad, still half-asleep but clearly not amused. "You guys need to quiet down! I’ve got work in the morning, and I can hear you laughing all the way across the house!" he snapped, his voice rising over the last few words. We tried to stifle our giggles, but the sight of him standing there in his pajamas, looking exasperated, made it even harder to hold in our laughter.

"Sorry, Mr. B." I managed to say through muffled laughs. He shook his head and left the room, muttering something about "kids these days." As soon as the door clicked shut, we exchanged wide-eyed looks and then burst out laughing again—much more quietly this time.

After our Mad Libs session ended (and after we gave Craig’s dad a little more time to fall back asleep), we moved on to the real event of the night—Craig's Sega Genesis. We started with Earthworm Jim, a game so strange and hilarious that we were instantly hooked. Jim was this ridiculous earthworm in a robotic suit, battling bizarre creatures and trying to avoid the evil Psy-Crow. The quirky animations and fast-paced gameplay had us on the edge of our seats, and we kept switching off whenever one of us lost a life.

Next up was Sonic Spinball, a game that threw Sonic the Hedgehog into a wild pinball machine-like world. We spent what felt like hours trying to keep Sonic bouncing around the screen, collecting Chaos Emeralds while narrowly avoiding spikes and hazards. The lights flashed, the music blared, and we couldn't stop playing, trying to outdo each other with every round.

But after hours of intense gaming, our energy started to dip. Craig suggested we try Ecco the Dolphin, a much more relaxed and atmospheric game. It was a sharp contrast to the frenzy of Sonic Spinball—a slow-paced adventure where you controlled a dolphin swimming through vast underwater worlds. The calming ocean sounds and soothing music made it the perfect way to wind down the night. Ecco’s journey, involving time travel and aliens, was way over our heads, but we didn’t care. We were just happy to explore the underwater realms and lose ourselves in the mysterious beauty of the game.

As the night crept into the early hours of the morning, we finally switched off the Sega Genesis. The house was quiet now—Craig’s dad hadn’t come back in to scold us again, so we figured we were safe. Lying in our sleeping bags on the floor, we replayed the night’s highlights in our heads, still chuckling about the Mad Libs stories that had nearly gotten us into trouble. Eventually, our conversation faded, and sleep caught up with us.

Looking back, that night at Craig's house in September 1993 was one of those perfect childhood memories—filled with silly humor, thrilling video games, and the kind of carefree fun that only comes when you're a kid. Even the moment Craig’s dad barged in, angry at our late-night laughter, became part of the legend. It was a night when the world felt simple and infinite, and all that mattered was having the best time with my best friend.

To this day, every time I see a Sega Genesis or hear the theme from Ecco the Dolphin, I’m transported back to that night—when laughter got us into trouble, and video games kept us awake until we couldn't keep our eyes open any longer.