The little kids can be scream-laughing their heads off on the mechanical rides. The teens can be thunderously slamming basketballs into the moving hoops or gleefully whacking moles or hollering back and forth over dueling "Dance Dance Revolution" sessions. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that one coin that will push all the others over the edge. The entire universe hangs on that gleaming token as it teeters on the edge. Once it falls, all the coins will fall.

And then the player has more chances to play the game.

Because no mere mortal has the fortitude to scoop up the winnings and walk away, even if the winnings are just tokens to be traded in for a 6-foot toy snake with purple stripes or a fake silver medallion that says "foxy" in fake diamonds.

Of all the rowdy and hyper-sensory games to choose from in the modern arcade (anybody remember pinball?) the coin pushers stand alone as old-fashioned, slow-paced and singularly focused.

Perhaps that's why they are so popular with the auntie and uncle crowd.

You put in a coin to play, but not a real coin, a token that is only good for that particular arcade. Each token is about the size of a quarter, but are worth three to a dollar.

There are hundreds of tokens inside the game, all piled up and hanging from the edge of the shelf. To make matters even more 'ono, the shelf is moving. It pushes back and forth, back and forth in a maddening tease. Just one more token, it taunts, and the whole thing is gonna go ka-doosh. Guarantee. Come on, it's all waiting for you.

The console is round so there can be four players at a time. There is always somebody sitting there playing that game. Some low-key uncle with his VO5 hair and his fanny pack or some stretch pants, SAS shoes grandma with her shopping bags gripped tight between her ankles. Often there's the vulture who hangs out near other games and swoops in after a player leaves to check the metal tray to see if any stray tokens were left behind.

Go into Jungle Fun at Ala Moana or Fun Factory or any of the other arcades in town and you will always see somebody sitting at that coin pusher getting their Vegas fix, scratching their Vegas itch.

It must be like settling for instant-cup noodles when what you really want is Hamura's, or camping on an air mattress and pretending it's just like your bed at home.

Not as good as the real thing, but the best you can do under the circumstances; a tiny taste of Vegas right here at home.

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her at 535-8172 or lcataluna@honoluluadvertiser.com.