A Conversation for Great Fairs and Theme Parks of Europe

Walters, fish dinners and con men

Post 1

Kilgore Trout

This isn't a story about a great theme park or a fantastic fairground ride but a short cautionary tale of a boy, a girl, a spicy fish dinner, a waltzer and a con man. It happened about 9 years ago a few weeks after I’d left sixth form college. A travelling fairground had set up camp on a playing field a short drive from my house and it was decided that it’d be a laugh for me and my friends to go. I set off in my car and picked them all up and headed for our source of entertainment for the evening. We got there and being a bit of a wimp when it comes to rides I headed straight for the amusement arcade.
After about 20 minutes one of my friends, who happened to be a girl, (I’m a guy) asked me when I was going to take her on a ride. I laughed nervously and said something about wanting to complete PacLand first. She told me I was a wimp (I already knew that!) and dragged me away from my little yellow pixellated friend and out into the loud flashing world of fairground rides. I was just about to tell her that I didn’t like rides when something stopped me. It was a strange kind of male pride and before I could stop myself I said “Which one?” She wasn’t too sure so took a huge gulp and picked the waltzer. I mean how scary can it be.
We took our seats and waited. A guy in a long overcoat wearing a hat walked up to us and said “£4 please”. I muttered under my breath at the extortionate price and grudgingly paid the man his money. We sat back and waited. Then a muscular, tattooed youth walks round and asks for £4. He looks scary. To avoid a beating I’m just about to pay him the £4 when I think, wait a minute this will have cost me £8 to do something I really hate, so I turn to the guy and say “I’m very sorry but we’ve already paid”.
A stream of expletives shot from the youth’s mouth to the effect that we haven’t and he asks, “When did you pay?” (There were lots more F words in that sentence) I told him that we’d paid the man in the overcoat. “He don’t even work for us!” came the respond. The overcoated man is standing at the side of the ride and he looks at the youth and nods slightly. “You’re gonna havta get off” the young guy says. “No” I say, standing my ground waiting to be dragged from the car and beaten senseless by 12 men with Rottweilers. The guy disappears and before you know it the ride starts but old tattooed youthy gets his own back. He keeps our car spinning twice as fast as everyone else’s and pumps smoke at us every time we go past the smoke machine. Also the machine is turning faster than at every other time I’d seen it move. The car safety rail is so rubbish that we both keep slide up out of the car and our heads flip over the back of the seat. We pull them down again but to no avail, they keep on sliding up. After an eternity the ride ends and we get off. I feel very ill and rush to a grassy patch nearby and bring up my spicy fish dinner. For the next 4 hours! I decide now is a good time to go home.
Next morning I phone my friend and we both have whiplash and it takes a few weeks for it to heal.
The moral : Don’t get cocky with a tattooed fairground guy, even if he scams you, he’ll only get revenge


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Walters, fish dinners and con men

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