You know you're a true 90s kid when these 10 experiences are permanently burned into your memory

My nephew asked me recently what I did for fun when I was his age.

When I told him about rewinding VHS tapes and waiting until Saturday morning to watch cartoons, he looked at me like I was describing life in the Stone Age.

He's not entirely wrong.

But here's the thing about growing up in the 90s: we didn't know we were living in a golden era until it was over. We were too busy being annoyed about slow internet connections and complaining that our parents wouldn't buy us that toy we saw on TV.

Looking back now, though? There are certain experiences that are burned into my brain. Things that defined what it meant to be a kid in that decade.

And if you're nodding along, recognizing these moments in your own memory, then congratulations. You're a certified 90s kid.

1) The sound of dial-up internet connecting

That screeching, beeping, crackling noise wasn't just annoying. It was the sound of possibility.

You'd sit there, watching the little icons dance across your screen, waiting for that magical moment when you could finally connect to AOL or whatever service your parents paid for. And heaven forbid someone picked up the phone while you were online.

The funny thing is, we thought that connection was fast. We thought we were living in the future. Now my phone loads entire movies in seconds, but somehow that dial-up sound still lives rent-free in my head.

It's weird how you can miss something that was objectively terrible.

2) Recording songs off the radio

I spent hours with my finger hovering over the record button on my cassette player, waiting for the DJ to shut up so I could capture a clean version of whatever song was climbing the charts.

Back then, if you wanted to own music, you had three options: buy the whole album, dub it from a friend, or become a radio vigilante. I chose option three.

My collection of mixtapes was chaos. Half-recorded songs. DJ chatter at the beginning. That one tape where my mom walked in and started talking about dinner right during the chorus.

But I loved those tapes. There was something about the hunt, the patience required, that made the music feel more valuable. Not to sound like my parents, but kids today don't know what they're missing.

3) Calling the movie theater for showtimes

Before smartphones, before the internet was ubiquitous, if you wanted to see a movie, you had to call the theater.

You'd dial the number and listen to this automated voice list every single showtime for every single movie playing that week. And you had to pay attention because if you missed the time you wanted, you'd have to wait through the entire message again.

Sometimes you'd just show up at the theater and hope for the best. That's how I ended up watching movies I'd never heard of, sitting through whatever was starting next because we were already there.

Looking back, that randomness created some of my favorite film memories. These days I can plan everything down to the seat number, but I kind of miss the spontaneity.

4) TV Guide was your best friend

If you wanted to watch something specific, you needed to know when it was on. And that meant checking TV Guide.

I'd circle shows I wanted to watch, set alarms, make sure I was home on time. Missing an episode meant you just missed it. There was no streaming, no DVR, no on-demand anything.

Saturday morning cartoons started at a specific time, and if you weren't awake for them, tough luck. This created a weird sense of urgency around television that just doesn't exist anymore.

My nephew can watch anything, anytime. He'll never understand the specific panic of realizing you forgot to set the VCR timer.

5) Actually going outside to find your friends

When I was a kid, if I wanted to hang out with someone, I had to go to their house and knock on the door.

No texting. No calling their cell phone because they didn't have one. You just showed up and hoped they were home.

I'd ride my bike around the neighborhood, hitting up different friends' houses until I found someone who could play. Sometimes you'd find three or four kids this way, and suddenly you'd have enough people for a game of street hockey or whatever we were into that week.

There was this beautiful inefficiency to it. Half the fun was the journey, running into other kids along the way, ending up doing something completely different than what you'd planned.

6) Memorizing phone numbers

I can still rattle off my best friend's landline number from middle school. It's been over 25 years, but those digits are permanently etched in my brain.

We had to memorize important numbers because there was no other option. Your parents' work numbers, your grandparents' house, your three closest friends. These were essential data.

Now? I barely know my own phone number. Everything's saved in my contacts, and if I lose my phone, I'm basically cut off from everyone I know.

There was something about memorizing those numbers that made relationships feel more permanent, more committed. You literally carried pieces of people around in your head.

7) The excitement of getting actual mail

Getting mail as a kid in the 90s was a legitimate event.

Whether it was a letter from a pen pal, a catalog you'd requested, or that CD you'd ordered from those Columbia House ads, checking the mailbox had real stakes.

I remember ordering CDs through those mail-order clubs and then waiting weeks for them to arrive. The anticipation built character, or at least that's what I tell myself.

These days, when I order something online, it's on my doorstep in two days. Sometimes one. The magic of waiting, of that delayed gratification, has completely evaporated.

8) Playing in fast food playgrounds for hours

McDonald's playgrounds were basically community centers for 90s kids.

Those colorful plastic tubes, the ball pits, the slides. We'd spend entire afternoons climbing around in there, making friends with random kids, inventing elaborate games. Our parents would sit there drinking coffee, probably just relieved to have us contained and visible.

Everything was more colorful back then. The whole restaurant felt like a party. Now McDonald's looks like an Apple Store, all minimalist and beige.

I know nostalgia distorts things, but I swear those play places were objectively better than whatever passes for kids' entertainment at fast food joints today.

9) Blockbuster runs on Friday nights

Friday night Blockbuster runs were sacred.

You'd walk through those aisles, scanning the shelves for something that looked good. Sometimes you'd pick a movie based entirely on the box art. Sometimes everything you wanted was already rented, so you'd have to make a backup choice.

There was a specific thrill to finding that new release you wanted, grabbing it before someone else could. And then the mild panic of realizing you forgot to rewind the last movie you rented.

The whole experience of physically going to get entertainment, of browsing and debating and compromising with your family about what to watch. That's completely gone now. We have infinite options, but something about the limitations made the experience more meaningful.

10) Using actual encyclopedias for homework

When I had to write a report, I'd haul out the Encyclopedia Britannica set that took up an entire shelf in our house.

Looking up information was work. You had to know the alphabet, cross-reference between volumes, take physical notes. There was no copy and paste, no pulling up ten articles in ten seconds.

The library was essential. You'd go there after school, check out books on your topic, spread them across a table and start reading. Sometimes the book you needed was already checked out and you'd have to pivot your entire paper.

All that friction forced you to actually engage with information differently. You couldn't just skim Wikipedia and call it research. You had to dig.

The bottom line

I'm not saying everything was better in the 90s. We didn't have GPS, which meant getting lost was a regular occurrence. We couldn't instantly fact-check arguments, which meant a lot of incorrect information went unchallenged. And don't even get me started on how long it took to download a single song.

But there was something about growing up in that analog-to-digital transition period that shaped how we see the world. We remember what it was like before everything was instant, before we were constantly connected, before the internet knew more about us than we know about ourselves.

These experiences I've listed aren't just nostalgia. They're proof of a specific moment in time, a way of being that doesn't exist anymore and never will again.

And honestly? I'm glad I got to live it.