First Puke and Tall People

Note: Let me say that, first and foremost, I am not Kristin Rowan. Sadly, I will never be Kristin Rowan, her coolness puts us all to shame. But let me also note that working at Oaks Park simply makes you want to document your experiences there. So, in doing so, it might seem like I am trying to be Kristin Rowan, but I am not because I know that that is dreaming the impossible dream. Thank you.

You were a young man/woman who had been having a pretty reasonably fun day that day at Oaks Park, until you got on my ride. You didn't realize that those curly fries you had eaten just moments before would soon be making a comeback. You were so young, so innocent, so full of food and prone to slight nausea. You would regret the day you messed with: The Screaming Eagle.

For those of you that don't know, the Screaming Eagle spins its occupants around, then swings back and forth while doing so. The occupants are suspended from their seats, and hold onto thick purple safety bars that come down over the victim, I mean rider, and hold them against their suspended seat.

Did I wake up that morning thinking today would be the day? Today I would lose my puke virginity at Oaks Park? I had gone almost a whole month of working there without having to deal with any vomit. The day you, fair rider, decided to ride my ride was a day that I will never forget.

One thing I don't understand is, why did you run away? Didn't you want to meet me? After I had clicked the gate open, once the ride was over, why didn't you stay and chat? Maybe ask me how my day was going, or even just point out which seat you had just lost your lunch in would have been a nice change of pace to the atmosphere. Instead, you ran away, thinking that a driveby barfing would be greeted better than if you had just kindly pointed out that you had just blown chunks, and where you had done said blowing of chunks would have been most appreciative. Instead, you left that little surprise to the next person who came along and sat in your filth.

As for the poor little 10 year old boy who sat in vomit: The seat is literally three feet in the air. It's practically at eye level for you. When you got in the seat and THEN told me there was vomit in it, I asked you why you had sat in it, and you insisted that you "Thought it was ok." Ok? Ok? How is vomit ever ok? And that fact that you were upset, well, for any normal person who would have just seen the mess and pointed it out to me, I would have understood their disgust. But you, oh no, you went one step further. You saw the vomit, justified it as "ok" and deemed it a perfect pool of puke for your bum to warm. Only after you sat in it did you realize that maybe barf doesn't make the best seat warmers, and then and only then did you decide to complain about your chosen seat. I'm sorry, but you forfeited any whining rights you had when you deemed it an "ok" seat to ride in. I see a sad future for you, little boy, if you even make it to your next birthday, which seems unlikely since you deem any sort of human liquid a good place to sit.

Part 2: "I'm Husky"

I'm sorry. I'm sorry whoever designed the ride only made it for people who are 5'5" and 140 lbs. I'm sorry you do not fit those requirements. I'm sorry that I have to come over and try to push the bar shut. I'm sorry that the seats are in a circle, so everyone can see who is too big for the ride. I'm sorry that you wanted to ride the ride with your daughter, and because of your build you can't. I'm sorry you have to hop out and walk out in front of everyone. I'm sorry about the young kids who giggle and point at you.
I'm sorry when I have to explain to you why we can't just let you ride because it "feels locked." It's not, and if I let the ride go, all the bars would go up and everyone would fall out, 30 feet in the air. I'm sorry the ride excludes anyone too tall, to big, or too broad shouldered. It's embarrassing, and it's the worst part of my job, even worse than the vomit. I try to make it better by saying, "I'm sorry, you're just too TALL for the ride" when it's obvious that your height isn't the problem. There's nothing I can do about it. And thank you, that one guy who actually admitted that he was too big for the ride after the bars wouldn't lock. Thanks for making everyone laugh when you turned and yelled, "I'm husky, and don't ya'll forget it! My momma didn't raise no skinny sons!" with a smile on your face. Thanks.