In the summer of 1985, I was 15 and worked the inaugural season of Dorney Park’s Wildwater Kingdom. I learned a lot of life lessons in those short couple of months.
I worked in the burger and fry joint stationed at the end of the wave pool. Get out of the wave pool, and exchange your soggy dollar bills for a refreshing drink, burger, and fries. Yeah, we got ketchup.
I was the fry guy.
Actually, we all rotated through the various jobs, the fryer was one, but we also made burgers in a conveyer belt oven, slung drinks from the fountain, and took our turn at the window interacting with the public.
But my favorite job was making fries — I didn’t have to interact with the wet and impatient public; it was a one-man job; and most importantly, I could nic a few fries here and there throughout my shift.
Today was cleaning day. As the “fry guy,” my job was the fryer. My directions:
- Turn off the pilot light
- Drain the cool oil
- Clean the hopper
- Fill it with new oil
- Relight the pilot light
I went at it with fervor. Steps 1 – 4 were complete; now time to fire it all back up.
I reached for the pilot light with the match, and “Phwooooof!”
