I worked at an amusement park.
I was a ride operator, which meant that I stood there in the direct sun for nine hours at a time pushing buttons. Even at 16 I soon got bored with this.

One day I went to the back of the park to relieve one of my co-workers as she operated the Roundup so she could get lunch. The ride looked like this:



See the entrance ramp on the left with its red pipe railings? That's where the controls are. As you look at the picture, the thing ran clockwise.

As I approached I saw that the ride was shut down, and Joyce was nowhere to be seen. I was a bit puzzled until I encountered her coming around one of the buildings, dripping water from head to foot and looking as miserable as a miserable little thing. "Joyce? What the hell happened to you?"

"A kid threw up when they were right over the engine."

To make up for bursting out laughing I traded rides with her for the rest of the day.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 10 Jun 2011, 22:25, 2 replies)

I wouldn't mind 'trading rides' with Joyce
know what I mean? Eh? Whallop.
( broadsword now that's fresh, Fri 10 Jun 2011, 22:30, closed)

Don't speak of my mother that way
you cad, sir.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Sat 11 Jun 2011, 10:11, closed)