Welcome to the real world, she said to me, condescendingly.

There are multiple aspects of my job as a Sweep that I enjoy, most of them consisting of interacting with the guests and other workers. My feet ache so bad that I have no choice but to stop and chat with people.

For the past few days, I've noticed in particular one man that looks to be about sixty who is always first in line at Millennium Force. He wears the same florescent yellow shirt that reads "Single Rider Bob". I've talked to Bob a few times. He recognizes me and always asks about my feet; "How're those feet today, girl?" and I always ask him how many times he's ridden Millennium Force that morning, which typically is about 7 or 8 times. He's a fun one.

Then there are the people who read in the park. I've always wondered about those people. Although I am an avid reader myself, I would never think to bring a novel to an amusement park. It just wouldn't cross my mind, so naturally I'm drawn to those people. I went up to a man bundled in in blankets and rain ponchos reading on a bench. I had passed him several times while sweeping and had wanted to talk to him for a while.

After a few more passing strides, I walked over and asked what he was reading; he had just finished one of his kids' books, and was now on to something more thick, dense. He was waiting for his kids to finish riding their rides. He'd been reading for more than two hours now. Interesting.

I especially enjoy taking pictures for the guests. If I see a family struggling to get a picture with Snoopy or Charlie Brown, I'll offer to take one of them all. So far, I've taken more than a few pictures and I get to be creative about them. The families are always appreciative of my stopping to help, as am I thankful for the rest from walking.

It's a fun job, really. The only downfall is the constant shooting pain in my feet and legs. If there were no pain, I wouldn't have anything to complain about concerning the job. Albeit, I have not yet cleaned up the aftermath of an upset stomach or anything more than sticky cheese sauce and forgotten cigarette butts but I don't think vomit will be much different. Just find the nearest oil dry, wait for it to soak in, and scoop it into the dustpan (which I have decorated nicely with my name :)

I don't get paid much, but the hours are well worth a beautiful, much appreciated paycheck. At least I hope so.