It was early March 1991, and my friend and I were celebrating his 14th birthday in Santa Cruz, California, spending as much of our weekend at the boardwalk arcade as possible. His mom handed us each a $20 bill for the change machine, and we were determined to stretch our quarters as far as we could.
Scrolling brawlers like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Final Fight were our favorite games. We also loved squaring off in what I consider the first true fighting game, the buttonless, Robotron-style, twin-joysticked Karate Champ.
When we came across a Street Fighter II: The World Warrior cab sitting in the middle of the arcade, we stopped dead in our tracks. Everything about it, from the six buttons per player to the large dynamic sprites and backgrounds, felt larger than life to our teenage brains.
While we were standing there, mesmerized and a little intimidated by the machine, the floor manager came by with some guests. He turned to his guests and said, “We just got this game in. I think it’s going to be big.” Uh, yeah.
Street Fighter II was a phenomenon. That lone game in the middle of arcade floors would multiply into rows, with lines stretching behind each one, people waiting to put their quarter on the glass to "get next." It seemed like everyone was playing it, and when the home console ports hit (we were SNES players), that felt even more true.
Over time, the hype faded. I left for college, got married, started a family and a career, and lost touch with the friends I used to play with. Arcades mostly died or became shells of their former selves. But I never lost my love for Street Fighter, even if my time with it was mostly dabbling in MAME.