Joyland(19)

What did I do at Joyland that summer? Everything. Sold tickets.

Pushed a popcorn wagon. Sold funnel cakes, cotton candy, and a zillion hot dogs (which we called Hound Dogs-you probably knew that). It was a Hound Dog that got my picture in the paper, as a matter of fact, although I wasn't the guy who sold that unlucky pup; George Preston did. I worked as a lifeguard, both on the beach and at Happy Lake, the indoor pool where the Splash & Crash water slide ended. I line-danced in the Wiggle

Waggle Village with the other members of Team Beagle to "Bird Dance Beat," "Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor on the Bedpost Overnight," "Rippy-Rappy, Zippy-Zappy," and a dozen other nonsense songs. I also did time-most of it happy-as an unlicensed child-minder. In the Wiggle-Waggle, the approved rallying cry when faced with a bawling kiddie was "Let's turn that frown upside-down!" and I not only liked it, I got good at it. It was in the Wiggle-Waggle that I decided having kids at some point in the future was an actual Good Idea rather than a Wendy-flavored daydream.

l-and all the other Happy Helpers-learned to race from one side of J oyland to the other in nothing flat, using either the alleys behind the shys, joints, rides, and concessions or one of three service-tunnels known as Joyland Under, Hound Dog Under, and the Boulevard. I hauled trash by the ton, usually driving it in an electric cart down the Boulevard, a shadowy and sinister thoroughfare lit by ancient fluorescent bar-lights that stuttered and buzzed. I even worked a few times as a roadie, hauling amps and monitors when one of the acts showed up late and unsupported.

I learned to talk the Talk. Some of it-like bally for a free 66

STEPHEN KING

show, or gone larry for a ride that had broken down-was pure carny, and as old as the hills. Other terms-like points for purty girls and fumps for the chronic complainers-were strictly Joyland lingo. I suppose other parks have their own version of the Talk, but underneath it's always carny-from-carny. A hammersquash is a cony (usually a fump) who bitches about having to wait in line. The last hour of the day (at Joyland, that was ten PM

to eleven) was the blow-off. A cony who loses at some shy and wants his mooch back is a mooch-hammer. The donniker is the bathroom, as in "Hey, Jonesy, hustle down to the donniker by the Moon Rocket-some dumb fump just puked in one of the sinks."

Running the concessions (known as joints) came easy to most of us, and really, anyone who can make change is qualified to push the popcorn wagon or work the counter of a souvenir shop.

Learning to ride-jock wasn't much more difficult, but it was scary at first, because there were lives in your hands, many those of little children.

?

"Here for your lesson?" Lane Hardy asked me when I joined him at the Carolina Spin. "Good. Just in time. Park opens in twenty minutes. We do it the way they do in the navy-see one, do one, teach one. Right now that heavyset kid you were standing next to-"

"Tom Kennedy."

"Okay. Right now Tom's over learning the Devil Wagons. At some point-probably this very day-he's gonna teach you how to run the ride, and you'll teach him how to run the Spin. Which, by the way, is an Aussie Wheel, meaning it runs counterclock-wise."





joyland

"Is that impmtant?"

"Nope," he said, "but I think it's interesting. There are only a few in the States. It has two speeds: slow and really slow."

"Because it's a grandma ride."

"Correctamundo." He demonstrated with the long stick shift I'd seen him operating on the day I got my job, then made me take over the stick with the bicycle handgrip at the top. "Feel it click when it's in gear?"

"Yes."

"Here's stop." He put his hand over mine and pulled the lever all the way up. This time the click was harder, and the enormous wheel stopped at once, the cars rocking gently.

"With me so far?"

"I guess so. Listen, don't I need a permit or a license or something to run this thing?"

"You got a license, don't you?"

"Sure, a Maine driver's license, but-"

"In South Carolina, a valid DL's all you need. They'll get around to additional regulations in time-they always do-but for this year, at least, you're good to go. Now pay attention, because this is the most important part. Do you see that yellow stripe on the side of the housing?"

I did. It was just to the right of the ramp leading up to the ride.

"Each car has a Happy Hound decal on the door. When you see the Hound lining up with the yellow stripe, you pull stop, and there'll be a car right where the folks get on." He yanked the lever forward again. "See?"

I said I did.

"Until the wheel's tipsed-"



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"What?"

"Loaded. Tipsed means loaded. Don't ask me why. Until the wheel's tipsed, you just alternate between super-slow and stop. Once you've got a full load-which you'll have most of the time, if we have a good season-you go to the normal slow speed. They get four minutes." He pointed to his suitcase radio. "It's my boomie, but the rule is when you run the ride, you control the tunes. Just no real blasting rock and roll

Who, Zep, Stones, stufflike that-until after the sun goes down.

Got it?"

"Yeah. What about letting them off?"