When I was seven years old, I was given a Where’s Waldo book for my birthday. That particular year, there was some pretty stiff competition in terms of the gift that got me most fired up. The purple rollerblades were slick as hell, but they chaffed my calf, resulting in a wound that took forever to heal. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figures were the ones I’d asked for, but without the Turtle Blimp accessory that I’d truly wanted, their inclusion into my collection left a bad taste in my mouth.
The Where’s Waldo book, however, was the perfect gift for a young boy with a burgeoning imagination. Each scene in the hand illustrated book devoted two large pages to a unique environment that was chock-full of characters engaged in all sorts of wacky antics. Within that, there was always one carefully camouflaged Waldo nestled amongst the chaos for eagle-eyed viewers to spot.