True story. It was in the ice cream shop--more loss of innocence.
In the early 90s, the preferred style of shorts was, well, not very short. Therefore, to be contrary, the Park decreed that we must wear what could be described as hot pants, and I swear, they we partially made out of paper. My friend, Kerry, used to describe said uniform as "soul-crushing." She wasn't wrong. These things were short and uncomfortable. Uncomfortable to wear and uncomfortable to watch someone else wear, as we shall soon see.
Anyhoo.
I mentioned the Brit, right? The poor exchange student who was bamboozled into near slavery at an American water park? So the Brit had friends--other foreigners who'd visit Fitzgerald's on their breaks for free ice cream. Together the Brit and the other foreigners would lament being stuck in podunk America, and plot how they could illegally get some beer, which was perfectly within their rights at home. Seriously, these poor guys.
My favorite was the French guy. Let's call him "Antoine." Antoine would come by for ice cream and I'd practice my 9th grade French on him. "Je m'appelle Melissa. J'ai quatorze ans." He thought I was adorable. He'd visit often.
During one visit, Antoine was tired and decided to set a spell. He hopped up on the counter, which didn't matter because we never had customers, anyway. As he was plotting, "Ah got a ride to zee leeker store; zees weel be zee beegest party," he pulled up his legs and hugged his knees.
And there they were. Balls. French balls.
And where does one look when one is 14 and has never seen a set of grown-up, hairy balls--not to mention grown-up, hairy, foreign balls? Oh, it was terrible! I couldn't look and I couldn't NOT look. I was so uncomfortable and self-conscious and terribly afraid of ever sitting in the shorts again for fear of displaying my unmentionables! What to do?
I scooped him some ice cream.
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9 comments:
Oh god, I forgot about those cardboard shorts! They were very, how do I put it? ...Unforgiving.
I think I may have been chaffed a few times in my privatest of privates by those damn shorts. And they always rode up your ass. How 'bout those potato-sack-cloth shirts? One year they were white with these three little boxes with marine life printed on them. Then first aid had to wear dark red in the summer (that was a great color out in the sun all day). I think the last year was baby blue.
The only upside of the dark red in my line of business was that they didn't stain. T.
The shirts. The shirts were horrible, ill-fitting, poly-cotton blends. Most of the time I had to wear an aqua colored shirt with fuschia lettering. And black shorts. And white sneakers with white socks. I think the people who made that decision were color blind. But what did they care? They were probably sitting in an air-conditioned office wearing breathable, 100% cotton pique. Jerks.
One summer while I was there they got new lifeguard bathing suits. Someone thought they looked a little sheer and might become see-through when wet.
July, a supervisor and the wife of the one Mulvihill son who didn't work at the park (I never met him so can't remember his name - I think he was the oldest), was given the assignment of going home and taking a shower in it to see.
Guess who apparently either didn't do it or maybe did it in the dark?
It was fun during the brief period that it lasted but the female waterworld employees nearly rioted and new suits were quickly found.
Yeah, so apparently my mom read this. And she was all, "You never told me that story!" And I was all, "Ma! Why on earth would I tell you about seeing French balls?" And she was all, "Oh, you're just silly."
I remember Yellow shirts for first aid.. And a whistle!
The whistle was great, we would blow it while driving one of the carts along the path with the latest victim on it....
We also had call numbers for the radio. I cannot remember what mine was! Damn, sucks getting old.
I worked dispatch one summer. The only "code" I remember was for the Wave Pool. Code Brown.
I still remember the summer I was promoted with the $.25 to supervisor. It wasn't the raise I was interested in, it was the fact that I didn't have to wear that horrible light blue polo and daisy duke shorts anymore. I moved up to White polo and Khaki shorts. They even gave me a radio and a cushman to drive. I just knew I would get some of the young hot chicks that worked there. OMG I did. Like I said earlier about Action park. For a teen male in high school or early college, it was liek a dream, I may have worked for free.
So glad I found this spot! I worked "first aid" a/k/a "special services" at AP during the summer and VV/GG during the winter from 1987-1989. Can't wait to keep reading!
Without a doubt, that was the best job I've ever had!
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