PLK: The Human Pop Tart
Archive - Andrew's JunkAuthor: Andrew Traweek
By now you’ve all heard my non-sensical ramblings about the day I was actually hurt by a theme park. Up until that day, I vehemently defended theme parks, and their safe environments. Of course, I still do that, but I pick my parks a bit more carefully now.
The day in question is still a bit cloudy as you can imagine. I can’t even remember what day it was, and I’m too lazy to dig out my bill from the emergency room to find out. It was toward the end of summer, and shortly before the tragic events of 9/11.
My day started out with the same routine. Clock in, grab a few smoke breaks, hit on the Cash Control ladies, and went out to the park to relieve the previous shift’s Lead. Of course, the entire Midway was in shambles, because unlike me, the other Lead wouldn’t get anything done while he was working, or rather, lack thereof. I could do more work doing nothing than he could do working full-steam. Breaks were started late, which was always a nightmare for second shift Lead. It meant more paper work, breaking three rides at the same time without the luxury of dedicated breakers, and most importantly, less breaks for me.
I began breaking people around 3:00pm. No, not literally ‘breaking’ them, although there were a few I would have enjoyed snapping in two.
Around 4:00 is when all Hell started breaking loose. I had just broken up another fight, and was disposed of in the Human Resources office whilst awaiting some donut-munching, fatass cop get out to the park to haul these kids away. And to top it all off, the Human Resources Director yelled at me for leaving my area. He then yelled at me for trying to go back to my area. Friggin’ retards, that’s what my bosses were.
I just ignored the bonehead, and began walking back to the Midway when I noticed that Cute Chick (see: Employee Party of DOOOM), walking toward the entrance crying. I thought some guy had tried something with her, and I was going to have to castrate someone. I soon found out that she had been attacked not by boob-grubbing-butt-bandits, but rather by a swarm of wasps that had been building nests on the Thunderbolt.
Of course, me being the caring, compassionate, perfect guy that I am, I held her and walked her into the First Aid office. Unfortunately, the Public Safety Officers were out hitting on thirteen year-olds again, and the door was locked. By this time, she was panicking. She had never been stung by a bee before, so I wasn’t sure if she was allergic. I called a First Aid unit on the radio. It took them ten-minutes to walk 500 feet! Stupid pedophiles…
Anywho, since my ‘caring, compassionate, all-around perfect guy’ thing was rudely interrupted by the PSO, I decided I needed to go back to the infested ride, and evacuate the guests while we poisoned the hell out of the wasps. After digging through the supply room for a good fifteen minutes looking for bug spray, I had to resort to some highly-flammable aerosol stuff and a lighter to kill these buzzing stingers of DEATH.
About the time I made it to the Thunderbolt, one of my operators had already taken over the operation of the ride, and was loading people. I began to assess the situation when I noticed this jackass guest I hated swinging his car. This was forbidden, since the park didn’t want the ride crumbling into a fiery pit of dog crap.
[Insert suspenseful music]
I slowly began to make my way up to the control booth to yell at the dumb bastard over the loudspeaker. I leaned into the control room and grabbed the microphone.
[Suspenseful music crescendos]
As I brought the microphone up to my mouth, I placed my right hand on the control panel. This completed the circuit, and I received the largest dose of electricity I had ever had before… The charge didn’t throw me back very far. It felt like the operator had hit me in the face with a sledgehammer. I remember giving him a blank look like, “Why the hell did you do that?!”
I blacked out after that. Evidently, I was still operating in some function, because the operator said I just stood there for a few seconds, staring off into space. When I came to, I struggled to mutter the simple phrase, “Shut it down.”
Evidently, he either understood, or had some form of common sense (being an ex-DL Cast Member), because he ran under the ride and cut the power.
He tried calling an emergency on the radio, but as usual, the batteries were dead. Hell, at this point, I was the battery! I gave up waiting for the ‘First Laid’ people to show, and I began to stumble to the First Aid office. I remember people making comments like, “He’s drunk!” as I walked past.
This was when I realized that I had not just electrocuted myself, but I had also bit my tongue pretty severely. My mouth was bleeding. I know I had that metallic-blood taste in my mouth, but I just thought that was from becoming the Human Transistor. My shirt was spattered with blood.
I only made it about 100 feet when I lost the energy to move any further. I slumped down on a bench. At this point, the only good Duty Manager we had was coming on duty, and he saw me slump my ass onto the bench. He ran over and asked me what had happened. I muttered something, but he didn’t understand until the operator of the Thunderbolt ran around the corner and yelled, “He’s been electrocuted!”
I ended up laid out on a stupid cot in the First Aid office, which was just about as well-equipped as an Elementary School Nurse’s Office. They gave me water… and get this… AN ENERGY DRINK! At least I hadn’t lost my sense of humor. I pushed it away and said, “No thanks. I’ve had enough energy for today.”
They laid me out on the cot for about thirty minutes until the Human Resources Director got there. He walked in the door… never mind the apology, the attempted fain of concern, or even a hello. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Can you go back to work?”
I was livid. Sure, I couldn’t pronounce my name, but I still had the ability to utterly loathe people. Hey, some things are important to me, okay? I muttered a “Hell no!”, and shot him my patented look of disbelief. Still ‘not all there’, I told him that I would much rather go home. He let me. He let me drive myself, the Human Pop-Tart, acting like Raymond from ‘The Rain Man’. Yes. They love their employees.
When I got home, the dizzy spells continued, as did the incessant ramblings in some other language. My parents were frightened, and decided to take me to the hospital. I sat in the Emergency Room, half-naked, for a few hours while they ran tests to make sure I had no lasting internal damage. All I had was an exit wound on my right palm. The entry actually went through one of the fillings in my mouth. My EKG came out clear, so I was discharged before I could even get a sponge bath from the hottie nurse. DAMN YOU Doctor! Share the wealth!!!
The following day, I received a call from my Supervisor (a guy 2 years younger than me!) asking me to come in and cover his shift. The audacity! I was still mildly retarded, I couldn’t sleep, and I had dizzy fits while using the bathroom. I think I got more on the wall than I did in the actual toilet. But I digress for the five-millionth time.
Again, my patented “Go to Hell” response was muttered, at the end of which I promptly hung up the phone in a very nasty way.
The very next day, I had to run down to the doctor to get his clearance to go back to work. Mr. Hawkeye Pierce there didn’t want to give it to me. I had to drag it out of him. He was going to keep me out of work indefinitely, and I wasn’t going to get so much as a sponge bath from Ms. Leggz the Nurse. (Hey, you get your priorities straight after a near-death experience!)
I eventually got the clearance note with some oh-so-lovely restrictions from the Doc. Essentially, I was a walking restriction. I got paid for a full day’s work without having to do ANY work! This was finally my dream job.
Anyway, to wrap this up, I did file for Worker’s Compensation to pay for my visit to the Emergency Room. To this day, the park has not paid it, and has repeatedly told other employees that the will NOT pay medical, overtime, or anything else.
What a worthless lump of donkey feces. I now have bad credit because of those dorks. Oh well, I got my revenge…
-Andrew