WORZALA'S WEDNESDAY WORD 5-2-07
Today's Wednesday Word is "baby" as in "Stop the ride, there's a baby under there!"
One summer day ages ago, when I still worked at Bay Beach Amusement Park, James was running the Tilt-a-whirl. He was zoning out slightly, as is the case of most of the ride operators. It's 90 degrees, you're sitting directly in the sun surrounded by hot metal, you're wearing a polo shirt tucked into your shorts and you're only 4 hours into your 12 hour double shift. The Tilt-a-whirl is especially hypnotic. Release cart brake, move throttle to halfway, allow for a rotation, move throttle to full, wait three minutes, throttle down, engage cart brake. Repeat, repeat, *sigh* repeat.
James was, I'm sure, deep in some thought about how some day he'd have a real job, or else how drunk he was going to get that night. It was always a toss-up with most of the staff there. Suddenly a man starts yelling at him, "Stop the ride, there's a baby under there! Stop the ride!" James bolts out of his seat and immediately throws the throttle back into neutral and slams on the electronic brake which sends ride goers slamming into each other in their carts as the ride grinds to a halt.
A baby under the ride, while difficult to imagine, was not impossible to believe. The bottom of the Tilt-a-whirl, which covered all of the gears and belts that made the ride move, did not reach all the way to the ground. It would be, in theory, possible for someone to get under there. It was also possible that someone's child had gotten away from them. Not only are children notoriously slippery, but a lot of the people that came to Bay Beach Amusement Park were idiots. Case in point, people would climb over giants rocks and walk past rotting fish corpses in order to splash around in the bay, fulling ignoring the fact that there was no swimming in the Bay due to the giant floating landfill 100 yards off of the shore.
This was all in James' mind as he vaulted the exit line bars and landed next to the Good Samaritan. Dropping to his knees on the hot concrete, James scanned the darkness looking and listening for the child.
"I don't see a baby," said James.
"Oh, it's not down there," replied the man.
"What?"
"But it could have been," said the man who cried baby. "And if one did," he continued, as his Special Olympics medal gleamed in the sun, "I could go and get him because I'm wearing special shoes."
"Oh..." said James, as he searched for an appropriate response. "Okay. I'll remember that."
We never did get the name of that well intentioned man and James never did have need of his special, injury proof shoes but that day did become the day the Tilt-a-whirl came to be known by its new, unofficial name: The Baby Killer.
One summer day ages ago, when I still worked at Bay Beach Amusement Park, James was running the Tilt-a-whirl. He was zoning out slightly, as is the case of most of the ride operators. It's 90 degrees, you're sitting directly in the sun surrounded by hot metal, you're wearing a polo shirt tucked into your shorts and you're only 4 hours into your 12 hour double shift. The Tilt-a-whirl is especially hypnotic. Release cart brake, move throttle to halfway, allow for a rotation, move throttle to full, wait three minutes, throttle down, engage cart brake. Repeat, repeat, *sigh* repeat.
James was, I'm sure, deep in some thought about how some day he'd have a real job, or else how drunk he was going to get that night. It was always a toss-up with most of the staff there. Suddenly a man starts yelling at him, "Stop the ride, there's a baby under there! Stop the ride!" James bolts out of his seat and immediately throws the throttle back into neutral and slams on the electronic brake which sends ride goers slamming into each other in their carts as the ride grinds to a halt.
A baby under the ride, while difficult to imagine, was not impossible to believe. The bottom of the Tilt-a-whirl, which covered all of the gears and belts that made the ride move, did not reach all the way to the ground. It would be, in theory, possible for someone to get under there. It was also possible that someone's child had gotten away from them. Not only are children notoriously slippery, but a lot of the people that came to Bay Beach Amusement Park were idiots. Case in point, people would climb over giants rocks and walk past rotting fish corpses in order to splash around in the bay, fulling ignoring the fact that there was no swimming in the Bay due to the giant floating landfill 100 yards off of the shore.
This was all in James' mind as he vaulted the exit line bars and landed next to the Good Samaritan. Dropping to his knees on the hot concrete, James scanned the darkness looking and listening for the child.
"I don't see a baby," said James.
"Oh, it's not down there," replied the man.
"What?"
"But it could have been," said the man who cried baby. "And if one did," he continued, as his Special Olympics medal gleamed in the sun, "I could go and get him because I'm wearing special shoes."
"Oh..." said James, as he searched for an appropriate response. "Okay. I'll remember that."
We never did get the name of that well intentioned man and James never did have need of his special, injury proof shoes but that day did become the day the Tilt-a-whirl came to be known by its new, unofficial name: The Baby Killer.
Labels: Worzala's Wednesday Word
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