It was a rough place - the seediest dive on the wharf. Populated with every reject and cutthroat from Bombay to Calcutta. It's worse than Detroit.
Spring Fling. Ah, spring fling. A time when UA clubs get to earn a bunch of money by pretending to be carnies. And fortunately, after 4 long years of waiting, I got to be one of those pseudo-carnies.
To complete my carnie image, I stopped bathing a year before my time at the booth. Don't question the fact that I didn't know about my job until last month. I also switched my diet to include only the following: cabbage, candy apples, 64oz sodas, and live chickens. Good times. Then I replaced my teeth with bits of candy corn and wood chips. And finally, I had an active cold sore. They're embarassing and painful, but if I can't discuss it here where can I discuss it? As a side note, I used Aveeno to treat it and this method seemed to work well. And as a bonus, it smelled and tasted exactly like an Otter Pop. Somewhere between Alexander the Grape and Poncho Punch.
Legal Counsel and I were working the Hi-Striker booth for PrideLaw. Hi-Striker is the game in which the pigeons...err, players swing a big mallet and try to send the marker to the top. But this wasn't a simple lever system with a bell at the top. No, this was a fancy pneumatic/electronic contraption which lit up lights instead of sending a weight into the air, didn't have a bell and didn't have a top. Yes, this led to lots of issues with the rednecks...err, players. Take a look:
The key is to hit the plunger right in the middle - that's the sensor location. I would take that as assumed, but apparently the dupes...err, players needed to be told. Believe me, it's not as easy as it sounds. Swinging a 15 pounder accurately can be difficult. But for me it helped if I imagined that a zombie was chasing me and it just tripped over a rock, so I have only one chance to smash its brains (I know, I know - using a sledgehammer against zombies is ridiculous. but I imagined it to be the only item on hand). That strategy also helps me deal with solicitors. So the game is actually a test of both strength and accuracy. In order to win, you need to hit the plunger very hard and dead center.
Mind you, when I say "in order to win" I really mean "in order to get a score which won't result in being made fun of," since you aren't going to win. Seriously, don't even try. I'm not going to say it's impossible...because the carnies would kill me. But in the first two days there were no winners. Not one. The nest day there were some, but it was maybe 1:400.
I kept taking free swings the whole time I was there, and the best I got was 104. To win, you need a 135. A firefighter who claimed to chop wood on Mt. Lemmon got 114. Some scary dude who looked like he spent the last 10-20 in prison getting tattoos and pumping iron got 130. Paul Bunyan got a 76. Jesus got a 54. But oddly enough, the scrawniest of kids would keep getting scores in the 80s.
I kind of felt bad taking tickets from the suckers...err, players. It cost $3 for one swing. And some guys were taking 5 or 6 swings in their vain attempts at success. When it was some drunken idiot or some macho jackass trying to look cool, I didn't care. Or my favorite - the "I think i can do it" guy, who hasn't even seen anybody else try. I was actually kind of amused. But when it was a dad trying to win a toy for his kid, I felt bad. Or the guy who gave up his corndog tickets to try the game. "Go get a corndog, dude" I wanted to say. But I can't break the first rule of Carnie-dom: fuck the guests. Their words, not mine.
As I said earlier, having the pneumatic/electronic system caused problems. Greenhorns...err, players kept saying it was rigged...and I couldn't really deny it. It wasn't rigged in the "you can't win" way. It was rigged in the "you won't win" way. So questioning the system was understandable. But these "people" were nuts. Bitching and whining about not winning. Listen, dude, you're at a carnival. All the games are set up to favor the carnie folk. Do you bitch about not winning at a casino? Do you complain about Taco Bell giving you the green apple splatters? Do you complain about getting an STD from D-Rock's mom? No. It's just expected. Here's some more news: the hoops aren't regulation size, the bottles are weighted and that isn't beef. The prizes sucked anyway. So get over it.
One of the worst things about working there was stooges...err, people asking over and over...and over and over if they can have a free swing. No you can't have a free swing! We wouldn't make any money if we gave everybody free swings! "But if I win I won't take a prize." News flash, jerk, you're not going to win. And you'd know that before paying if we let you have free swings. Sigh. Eventually I wanted to start asking if I could take free swings at them. But that would ruin the surprise. Whammy!
The worst was this one guy. This fucking guy. Pardon my language, but he deserves it. If you were wearing camouflage pants, a grey sweatshirt and an ugly face to Spring Fling Friday night, you're the biggest jackass ever. He came up and got an 87 or something low like that. He spent the rest of the night asking for free swings because he "knows he can do better." I was tempted to let him have a swing so he'd do worse and look like an idiot. As he was walking away (the first time) he said "nobody can do better than that." Obviously I stpped up and did better. Dumbass. He came back at least 4 times asking for free swings. I've never wanted to kill a non-zombie so bad in my life.
The high point of the game was watching little kids do the mini version of the game. It was the low-tech lever version. And all kids got a free inflatable squeaky hammer when they played. Little kids are cute. Until they hit 8-10. Then they get annoying. If Paul Bunyan couldn't win, why would you? By the way, there are crazy numbers of overweight children. And parents. And other people. Rednecks are unhealthy.
There were three colors of hammers for kids: yellow, pink and blue. Apparently, everybody watched the color picking habits of kids like I did. Girls pick pink or yellow, boys pick blue. Almost always. And when a little boy went for pink, his parents would usually stop him. He's going to be a closet case all his life, Legal Counsel postulated. It's probably true. Come on parents, just let the boy pick the color he likes. Strangely, nobody stopped girls from choosing blue. Weird...
All in all, a fun and interesting evening. Lessons learned:
1. I'm not cold and heartless enough to be a carnie. And my hygiene is slightly too good
2. People are stupid and overweight
3. Little kids swinging a hammer: cute, but scary
4. Parents try to dictate gender roles on kids
5. That guy: needs to be hit by a truck
6. Carnie games: definitely rigged (already known, just further confirmed)
7. 1 in 3 snakebite victims is drunk. 1 in 5 is tattooed
To complete my carnie image, I stopped bathing a year before my time at the booth. Don't question the fact that I didn't know about my job until last month. I also switched my diet to include only the following: cabbage, candy apples, 64oz sodas, and live chickens. Good times. Then I replaced my teeth with bits of candy corn and wood chips. And finally, I had an active cold sore. They're embarassing and painful, but if I can't discuss it here where can I discuss it? As a side note, I used Aveeno to treat it and this method seemed to work well. And as a bonus, it smelled and tasted exactly like an Otter Pop. Somewhere between Alexander the Grape and Poncho Punch.
Legal Counsel and I were working the Hi-Striker booth for PrideLaw. Hi-Striker is the game in which the pigeons...err, players swing a big mallet and try to send the marker to the top. But this wasn't a simple lever system with a bell at the top. No, this was a fancy pneumatic/electronic contraption which lit up lights instead of sending a weight into the air, didn't have a bell and didn't have a top. Yes, this led to lots of issues with the rednecks...err, players. Take a look:
The key is to hit the plunger right in the middle - that's the sensor location. I would take that as assumed, but apparently the dupes...err, players needed to be told. Believe me, it's not as easy as it sounds. Swinging a 15 pounder accurately can be difficult. But for me it helped if I imagined that a zombie was chasing me and it just tripped over a rock, so I have only one chance to smash its brains (I know, I know - using a sledgehammer against zombies is ridiculous. but I imagined it to be the only item on hand). That strategy also helps me deal with solicitors. So the game is actually a test of both strength and accuracy. In order to win, you need to hit the plunger very hard and dead center.
Mind you, when I say "in order to win" I really mean "in order to get a score which won't result in being made fun of," since you aren't going to win. Seriously, don't even try. I'm not going to say it's impossible...because the carnies would kill me. But in the first two days there were no winners. Not one. The nest day there were some, but it was maybe 1:400.
I kept taking free swings the whole time I was there, and the best I got was 104. To win, you need a 135. A firefighter who claimed to chop wood on Mt. Lemmon got 114. Some scary dude who looked like he spent the last 10-20 in prison getting tattoos and pumping iron got 130. Paul Bunyan got a 76. Jesus got a 54. But oddly enough, the scrawniest of kids would keep getting scores in the 80s.
I kind of felt bad taking tickets from the suckers...err, players. It cost $3 for one swing. And some guys were taking 5 or 6 swings in their vain attempts at success. When it was some drunken idiot or some macho jackass trying to look cool, I didn't care. Or my favorite - the "I think i can do it" guy, who hasn't even seen anybody else try. I was actually kind of amused. But when it was a dad trying to win a toy for his kid, I felt bad. Or the guy who gave up his corndog tickets to try the game. "Go get a corndog, dude" I wanted to say. But I can't break the first rule of Carnie-dom: fuck the guests. Their words, not mine.
As I said earlier, having the pneumatic/electronic system caused problems. Greenhorns...err, players kept saying it was rigged...and I couldn't really deny it. It wasn't rigged in the "you can't win" way. It was rigged in the "you won't win" way. So questioning the system was understandable. But these "people" were nuts. Bitching and whining about not winning. Listen, dude, you're at a carnival. All the games are set up to favor the carnie folk. Do you bitch about not winning at a casino? Do you complain about Taco Bell giving you the green apple splatters? Do you complain about getting an STD from D-Rock's mom? No. It's just expected. Here's some more news: the hoops aren't regulation size, the bottles are weighted and that isn't beef. The prizes sucked anyway. So get over it.
One of the worst things about working there was stooges...err, people asking over and over...and over and over if they can have a free swing. No you can't have a free swing! We wouldn't make any money if we gave everybody free swings! "But if I win I won't take a prize." News flash, jerk, you're not going to win. And you'd know that before paying if we let you have free swings. Sigh. Eventually I wanted to start asking if I could take free swings at them. But that would ruin the surprise. Whammy!
The worst was this one guy. This fucking guy. Pardon my language, but he deserves it. If you were wearing camouflage pants, a grey sweatshirt and an ugly face to Spring Fling Friday night, you're the biggest jackass ever. He came up and got an 87 or something low like that. He spent the rest of the night asking for free swings because he "knows he can do better." I was tempted to let him have a swing so he'd do worse and look like an idiot. As he was walking away (the first time) he said "nobody can do better than that." Obviously I stpped up and did better. Dumbass. He came back at least 4 times asking for free swings. I've never wanted to kill a non-zombie so bad in my life.
The high point of the game was watching little kids do the mini version of the game. It was the low-tech lever version. And all kids got a free inflatable squeaky hammer when they played. Little kids are cute. Until they hit 8-10. Then they get annoying. If Paul Bunyan couldn't win, why would you? By the way, there are crazy numbers of overweight children. And parents. And other people. Rednecks are unhealthy.
There were three colors of hammers for kids: yellow, pink and blue. Apparently, everybody watched the color picking habits of kids like I did. Girls pick pink or yellow, boys pick blue. Almost always. And when a little boy went for pink, his parents would usually stop him. He's going to be a closet case all his life, Legal Counsel postulated. It's probably true. Come on parents, just let the boy pick the color he likes. Strangely, nobody stopped girls from choosing blue. Weird...
All in all, a fun and interesting evening. Lessons learned:
1. I'm not cold and heartless enough to be a carnie. And my hygiene is slightly too good
2. People are stupid and overweight
3. Little kids swinging a hammer: cute, but scary
4. Parents try to dictate gender roles on kids
5. That guy: needs to be hit by a truck
6. Carnie games: definitely rigged (already known, just further confirmed)
7. 1 in 3 snakebite victims is drunk. 1 in 5 is tattooed
posted by Montgomery at 10:05 AM
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