kartooner.com

I had a few nicknames in High School and in College. Among them, my favorites were “Wonderbread” and “Special K“.

It was junior year, during Physical Education, when I was first deemed Wonderbread. During an exhaustive game of basketball with my buddies, a group of girls approached our court. There intent, while meger at best, was to steal the court and gain control of the hoop. We reacted indifferently about the situation, as you can imagine, and essentially backed them off the court. As they were walking away, one of the girls — the biggest of the bunch — turned in my direction and yelled, “Until next time, Wonderbread!”.

My buddies and I chuckled, then returned to the game. From that day on, however, I was known as “Wonderbread” and to this day the nickname rears its ugly face in family conversations.

My other nickname, Special K, was created sometime during my senior year of College. I can’t remember who thought of it first, but I do remember where it came from. The nickname acknowledges the ‘k’ in my first name. Most people, at that time anyways, were surprised to learn that my name (Erik) wasn’t spelled the conventional way; in this case: Eric with a ‘c’. The nickname, Special K, was the result of this different spelling.

While I always try to write meaningful articles (or posts, as they are referred to in the blogging realm) dealing with observations and anecdotes on life, sometimes the occassional “What Happened to Me this Week” post slips through. I figure this is a personal site, and therefore it’s nice to share, on occasion, with whomever reads this site, certain events in my life.

As some of you know, my wife, daughter and I recently moved into our new apartment. We rented a U-Haul truck (all 14 feet of it) and packed a slew of items that we’ve managed to collect over the past year and a half, including various electronics and other material items. We figure by the time we move out of this apartment and into a house, we’ll have amassed over twice the items we have now.

On the move over, I had to ride in the back of the U-Haul to make sure the items were secure. To prevent mass hysteria, or suffocation, I’m not sure which, my father-in-law left the door slightly cracked. Needless to say, it was an interesting experience watching a piece of the road pass underneath the truck, and hoping I wouldn’t slip and tumble out, as we moved across town. I should mention that we only moved about a mile from where we used to live, but already I can tell we’ll be much more comfortable living on our own, as opposed to living with family.

For the moment; several boxes, clothes, and other household items are strewn all over the place. Which means for the next couple of weeks we’ll be unpacking, sorting and organizing our apartment to our liking.

A few years ago I worked for an amusement park named Castle Park. The following is a poignant recollection of my experience while working for the “Park”.

Honestly, I had never intended to work for the park but considering it was the easiest job I’ve ever applied for in my life — it just goes to say that I’m glad I did it. Needless to say, the interview process was dead simple, to the point where I was hired on the spot and returned to the park the following Tuesday for the “initiation” and “implementation” process.

For starters, they made us all sign what seemed like thousands of papers (legal documents, tax forms, etc.) and then we were assigned our Park uniforms. At the time, these consisted of a green Polo shirt with the Castle Park logo emblazened on the front and biege khaki shorts. The gear reminded me of logger wear rather than exuding something along the lines of proud employees of the Amusement profession.

Following the uniform assignment we were then given a tour of the Park, which included a tour of the 3-level arcade and park grounds. Castle Park has, give or take, around 30 or so rides that make up the adult, smaller children and kiddie rides. Depending on your particular assignment for that evening you were either stuck in Kiddie Land or blessed with the opportunity to help out in Teenager Land.

I preferred Kiddie Land at first and eventually longed to operate the cooler kid rides, which seemed a smidge more technologically advanced. You see, you have to work up a specific hierarchy when you’re first hired at Castle Park. It’s a lot like going through high school all over again. Forget about starting on the Log Ride because your first step is the Flying Animals and if you’re lucky The Indiana Jones (rip-off) attraction.

Like the rest of the wide-eyed employees I was summoned to the Flying Animals. Granted, there is nothing wrong with flying dragons and bears but the ride itself sort of gave me the creeps. I often thought how strange it was to see small children riding around in hollowed out animal heads.
The day they transferred me to another ride was a day in Amusement Park Heaven for me. In my mind I was now an official “Ride Operator”, a position that reverred authority and naturally put fear into the hearts of young children.

Eventually I was transferred to the Sea Planes ride where I could utilize my skills as a wannabe DJ. It was here where I took advantage of the mic system, which, on a good day amplified your voice several feet in diameter. The Sea Planes were hydraulically-powered planes hovering over a moat of water wherein the child had control of the lift and dip of the plane with the stick.

My announcement before starting the ride sounded something like this:

Welcome to Castle Park Sea Planes. The ride is about to start, but first! Remember to keep all hands and feet in the plane at ALL times. To make the plane go up pull back on the stick, to make the plane go down push forward.

Thank you and enjoy the rest of your stay here at Castle Park.

When I moved onto the other rides I pretty much kept the same speech but obviously tweaked it in relation to the specific ride I was operating. Of special note, one particular ride called the ‘Cyclone’ basically whirled around backwards and forwards depending on the setting you assigned it.

Time and time again I would cross my fingers, hoping someone would get sick so that they would shut down the ride for a few moments of sanity. However, someone getting sick was rare and therefore I had to indure the hours of scrutiny and stupidity from America’s finest park attendees. Whoever said the “customer is always right” should be bludgeoned with a sack of meatballs. You realize, after working with the public and especially in a recreational hot spot, that the public leaves their brains at the entrance.

In the classic Lucasarts computer game, Sam and Max Hit the Road, one of the locations you visit is the World’s Largest Ball of Twine, a landmark of epic proportions maintained by a telekentic repair man with Tourette’s syndrome. Like I said, classic game.

These kinds of tourist traps dot landscapes all over the world and for good reason. I’ve seen everything from the World’s Largest Thermometer in Illinois, which stood 750-feet high, to the World’s Smallest Cactus in Arizona, measuring about two inches in height. The curators of these “fantastic sights” are always, and I repeat always overly estactic, pointing out features of these landmarks with a sprinkle of fascination and wonderment in their voices.

I’ve often wondered if some of these individuals have ever experienced the world outside of their hometowns or local tourist attractions. Granted, it’s somewhat impressive to see the World’s Largest Donut, but I think it’s much more majestic standing before the Great Wall of China or The Great Pyramid of Giza. Something I hope to experience some day, when the financial gods allow such an excursion.

When you think about it, in your lifetime you’ll never be able to read every novel or watch every film created. Likewise, you’ll only hear certain sounds, breath in various smells, experience certain tastes and sights and most important of all, touch certain things, be they inanimate objects, loved ones or something as simple as an Oak table.