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The numbers game
September 25, 2006
About once a year, me and my friends drive to a local amusement park and work two 16-hour days as a fundraiser. Usually, they have us working the kiddie rides or carousels. This year, I was assigned to hold a height-stick in front of one of those large, rickety, 240-foot falling contraptions. I like coasters, but I can’t deal with a verticle drop. I made that clear when they asked me to test-ride the thing on Saturday morning.
The guys who actually controlled the tower were two flamboyant black men (Andre and Saul) who had me laughing nonstop all weekend.
Every once in a while, as different workers circulated through and helped with the crowds, someone would shout out a number. No one seemed to take much notice. I figured it was technical when every once in a while I’d hear, “TWENTY FOUR!” or “FIFTY TWO!” after some people were loaded in the death cage sent up to plunge right back down again.
It was Sunday afternoon that Andre called over to me. “Ohmigod Rachel! You poor thing, you don’t know the numbers game!”
I didn’t.
“Well,” he continued, “when you see a particularly ugly person, like maybe they have a mullet or a mohawk or a side ponytail, you take the number of their car plus the number of their seat and put them together. Car 5, seat 2, would be 52.”
A moment late, four guests sat in car 6. As they sat there, Andre screamed, “SIXTY!” After they were strapped in and sent away, I looked over to him. He slapped his head like he remembered something and yelled over to me once more. “Girl, I forgot, you stick a zero on the end if the whole damn lot of ‘em is ugly.”
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