Oh, the beach. I loved and hated that place. It was sort of like a cross of Saved By the Bell and a sweat shop.
The Pink Room: Thoughts About Intentional Living
Chapter 6/ Things I Should Not Have Done, Probably.
Part 2 (Previous post contain the previous chapters.)
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I probably should
not have been a security guard at small local theme park. It was better than
operating the rides so I took the job. I wasn’t really strong enough, big
enough, or intimidating enough. I hated all the paraphernalia that came with
it. There were keys (including the one to the four-wheeler,) the Walkie Talkie,
the carts I had to push to load the soda machines and the four D-cell Maglite.
I began wearing a belt so my shorts stayed up.
I have never felt quite so dude-like. My uniform consisted of cargo
shorts, staff polo, baseball cap (albeit with a ponytail) and all that other whatnot
hanging on my belt. Super sexy.
Security was a
break from two three and a half hours shifts on rides. Watching four year olds
go around in circles, riding on tethered boats is cute for ten minutes, maybe
five minutes, but then not so cute. Every. Single. Kid. Drags their hands in
the water and ALMOST falls in. Every. Single. Kid.
The helicopters
ride, where relentless dads squeeze in and try as hard as they can to make room
for the kid. Super funny seeing a six foot, 250 pound man in a helicopter—and
they all would make it “fly” all the way to the top and the hydraulics make
noises that were just not right. I would wonder: how many people would get hurt
if that exploded?
They added the
Yo-Yo while I worked there. It was a giant rotating swing ride. It was
frightening. There was a height requirement because the seatbelts were so
flimsy. If the person didn’t have enough ballast to stay put in their seat,
they’d just fall out—slide right out from under the belt. You don’t want that.
Passengers would be thirty feet in the air.
Tiny kids would
always try to get on and cry when they couldn’t. I wanted to say things like:
you really don’t want to die today, do you? Or: see that wall over there—you could
be a big splotch on in in a few minutes. The rules were there for a reason.
The train was the
favorite gig of all the employees. There was more to do and it took longer than
the other rides. You also were not trapped inside a fence. It was all an illusion,
but it seemed better. The train had almost a mile long track and sat something
like thirty people. It would randomly derail and have to shut down. I always
found that slightly humorous, a tiny derailed train. Either the tracks were too
hot, in the summer heat, and expanded just enough to cause issues OR, my
favorite, an employee would take the curves too fast—and then all the
passengers would have to get off and walk back across the back lawn—it was a
long walk.
The big drawbacks
of the train—a face full of exhaust from the engine. The cockpit had no door
and you had to do a General Lee move to get in, oh, and the bugs. Yuck. Normally,
there was a swarm of Bay Flies near the back loop, not on the loop but right before
it, so you had to go through it twice, once each way. Panicked thoughts about
bugs in your face, up your nose or in your mouth were pretty typical. “Shut
your eyes, hold your breath, shut your eyes, hold your breath!” and then it was
over (you were not supposed to shut your eyes.) Terrible thing, sometimes you’d
look back at passengers and manage to turn your face back right into the swarm.
I was tall enough
and strong enough to operate the Ferris wheel, not all the girls were. I did not like it—if it wasn’t balanced the
circuit would flip and the wheel would spin backward. It was frightening. No offense
intended here, just the truth: the wheel
had to be balanced too, so if anyone was overweight, they had to have a seat
chosen for them as to not throw the wheel off weight and out of balance. The
second time I ran the wheel, it was a dreary day which was threatening rain, so
there were only a few people were in the park. It was silly to be open but
unless there was lightening or heavy rain we stayed open. The wheel was being
run with just a few seats filled on each turn. Then as if in slow motion, three
people walked up; there were only five in line.
Those three individuals
created a puzzle for me I could not solve. They wanted to sit together. Three
would not fit in one seat—they were large people. They agreed two would sit
together—but there were not enough people in line to equalize the weight (in
the whole park.) I remember standing there, trying to be polite, red-faced, all
I could do was look at the wheel and look at them--repeat. I called a manager.
I won’t tell the whole story but it did not end well. Popped circuits,
embarrassed people, smoke, things going the opposite direction of what they
should, three grown men hand delivering people to the platform to get off the
ride, and the wheel shutting down for a week…that was the result. Thank God I
called a manager.
Teen nights
started while I worked there, too. It was as bad of an idea as it sounds. Mom
was right, trouble comes out after dark. This was no exception. When I had to
work them, I was part of a few assigned to Security, they just wanted extra
eyes on the park, and to help closing at the end of the night. Lord knows
otherwise, I was useless.
One Teen Night a
girl threw a full, closed, soda can at a middle-aged man and it cut open the
bridge of his nose. He called her trash and she got mad. Another night there was
a rumor of a gang fight “going down” at the park, so the park got shut down by
police.
My favorite
instance was walking around the buildings one night. We were to make sure
nothing illicit was happening. With another guy in security, and over the Walkie
Talkie the manager asked: how does everything look? Now, it is important to
know we were told that for this event our radios would be on the same frequency
as the city’s police department. It was critical that we only use the radios
for professional communication.
“How does
everything look?”
“10-4, other than
smelling a little whacky tabacki, all is well. Over and out, Good Buddy!”
Silence. It
didn’t know whether to laugh or to be mortified. He never worked security for
teen nights again.
Security at the
park was a weird little world. If you knew how to abuse the position you could
get away with a lot, I didn’t do that—I didn’t feel right about it. I was going
about the duties one day and needed the manager, also a teenager, and couldn’t
find him. I radioed and he came up on the four-wheeler with another girl on the
back. No staff was supposed to be freely roaming, everyone had an assigned
spot. One thing lead to the next, over weeks, this kept happening—until one day
they were caught making out under the big blue slide.
Several people
complained to me about the work ethic, being paid to make out n’ all, and I
didn’t quite know how to handle it so I may or may not have told the park
director. I felt bad but everyone was mad and I couldn’t do anything about it.
Within hours it was sorted, but there were two fewer staff members and a little
less young love on site. I hope they can forgive me. It would have happened
with or without me; it was a matter of time. Mostly because the big blue slide
isn’t all that private.
The experiences
in security lead to deciding to leave that summer job. I had been there for four
summers. I know more about rides and waxing slides and how to get the
Tilt-O-Whirl to spin, than I ever wanted to. I hold the esteemed badge of being
a “Ride Master” –that’s park lingo. I knew them all. And I never mentioned
working in their kitchen.
Although I had
achieved all you could achieve there--it was obvious that it was not a good fit
for me. I did not enjoy Security work. We all knew it was a limited time; it
was time for the next thing.
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God allows us to
do things that don’t fit well for a time. Sometimes I think it is because He
wants us to see that for ourselves so He allows us to strive (like Security,) sometimes
I believe He is coaching us on how to behave (don’t make-out under the slide at
work,) or preparing us for the next thing in life (event work,) sometimes I
think He is testing our integrity (doing the right thing even if it stinks at
the time.)
No matter what—sometimes
things work in a way that even if we try to do our best, people still get hurt.
(Even if it is their own, dumb, fault.) Hopefully, if we mean no malice and are
just trying to do what is right, we can be forgiven. And if not, at least we
know we made God proud.
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