I have a confession to make. I’m one of them. Yep, to look at me you likely wouldn’t figure I would be predisposed to being involved in something like that but I tried it once and now I’m addicted, unable to give it up.

My addiction causes me to wander the streets at night. You may see me some evening, walking through downtown Smithville, my head down like I’m in another world. That’s right. I admit it. I’m a Pokémon addict. Here’s my story of how I became an addict. Let it be a cautionary tale for those of you who are thinking about dabbling in it.

Much like Saul in the Bible, I began my association with Pokémon GO as persecutor of those who were playing the game. Not that Saul played Pokémon Go but, anyway, you get the idea. I made fun of those who had jumped on the new fad a couple of years ago and went to the point of calling them out in my personal column I wrote when I was at the newspaper down south. I think the term I used was “mindless zombies” who were roaming around town, looking down at their phones like they were in a trance. I was a scoffer until that fateful moment when I decided to download the game to my phone, you know, just to check out what all the excitement was about.

All it took was catching my first Pikachu and I was addicted. In one day I had went to a detractor of the game to a huge fan. It combined my passion for collecting things with being rewarded for walking around in nature.

So, here I am, after publically making fun of those “zombies” for months, I’m one of them. I had to go underground and stay in the closet with my addiction. But, like all addictions, my secret found me out a couple of weeks later when I forgot to turn down the volume on my phone. It just so happened I was sitting across the table from a friend whom I had persecuted as one of those Pokémon freaks.

“What was that?” he asked, hearing the tell-tale Pokémon theme coming from my phone. I’d been stone cold busted.

“I, uh, It’s, uh,” I stammered.

“YOU are playing Pokémon!” he declared, loud enough that everyone in the restaurant turned around. “I can't believe it. YOU of all people.”

Caught with the Poke ball in my hand, I broke down and confessed. “Yes,” I sighed. “It’s fun.”
Given I was outed, I decided to come clean and go public. The next week I ate a huge serving of crow and wrote another column admitting that I was a Pokémon fan.

However, instead of laughing and making fun of me, I was praised for coming out of the Pokémon closet.

“It takes a big man to stand up and admit when you were wrong,” one reader told me.

Flash forward a year or so. I’m still playing and darn it, it’s still fun. Plus, it gets me out walking in the fresh air as you are rewarded by the game for walking. So, if you’re looking for an addiction that can also be healthy and doesn’t cost a cent, put down those menthols and join us “zombies” as we wander the streets of your fair city.

Contact Duane Sherrill at news@smithvillereview.com