In high school Chanté and I were those cliche teenagers that you see in all the old 80’s movies; cashier, amusement/water park employee, sold chicken and pizza, apron, goofy hat, fanny pack. I mean we had it all. We thought we were the coolest kids there (I even wore my fanny pack backwards because that’s how dope I was).
My job had two parks; one with roller coasters and the other with water slides. So I spent my spring and fall months in the park with the roller coasters and the summer months in the water park, obvi. I know, its very thrilling stuff.
As you can see in the pic, the uniform was the most awful thing you could ever imagine. The shirt was this uber bright neon yellow shirt that glowed in the dark (maybe it was green, to this day I’m still not sure what color it actually is), the most unflattering pair of black pants that in its past life doubled as a potato sack, which oddly enough repelled water (which we tested), a non matching red-orange name tag, and a hat and apron to tie it all together.
The park was basically a circle, the lazy river was the inner circle or center part of the park and all the water slides and the wave pool were on the outside. To get to/from the water slides you had to cross a bridge that was above the lazy river. My little restaurant, Totally Kickin’ Chicken (I’m 100% not making that up) had a clear view of the bridge and was next to the wave pool, so I had to cross it all the time.
When it was time for all the guest to leave, they would uses these industrial ropes that connected from one side of the bridge to the other to close it off. The ropes weren’t that high off the ground so I usually just stepped over it.
Well, on a very special day Chanté and I were leaving together to go home (which we NEVER did) and as usual we had to step over the rope. Side by side we attempted to step over the rope at the same time. Being the mirror twins that we are, we both started with our outside leg first.
Here’s where the story differs depending on who tells it.
As we both step our inside leg over the rope, Chanté kicks my leg with hers and knocks my foot into the rope. Unable to stop my momentum, my foot gets caught on the rope and I go hurdling forward, crashing into the ground.
I mean I ate the ground hard. But that’s not the worst part.
Remember when I said Kickin’ Chicken had a clear view of the bridge. Well, just as I was trying to recover from my horrendous fall, I hear the loud voices of my co-workers coming towards me. Still on the ground, I turn around to see them running up to us, laughing.
One of them even has the nerve to ask if CHANTÉ is okay, as if I’m not the one who’s still on the ground!!!!
As I get up, I notice that the rope is on the ground. Not thinking anything of it, my friend attempts to connect it back we he realizes that it’s broken and yells “Guys, she broke the rope!” I was horrified.
I mean this wasn’t your average rope either. I’m telling you it took real skill to break it.
Because Chanté didn’t work in the same restaurant as me I told everyone that she was the one who broke the rope for two weeks straight.
The funny part is that because the rope was broken, security had to stand there every night when the park closed until they finally replaced the rope, reminding me of one of my finest moments.
To this day, Chanté still believes that she is not to blame for me falling (although we all know that’s not true).
Moral of the story: NEVER step over a rope at the same time as someone else. They will kick you and you will fall.