The Again Return of Workin' Man

Whoo.

Where to start.

In my culture, there are three steps toward a man's knowing of the world of finance.
Step 1: Make $100 selling candy during the morning shift. Think $100 is "pretty good."
Step 2: Make $800 selling candy during the night shift. Think $800 is "pretty good."
Step 3: Go to turn in $800 to Elitches bank, notice a slip for one of the four clerks with a running total of the money they've catalogued that evening at over $45,000. Think $45,000 is "a lot of fucking money."

Damn, I think of so many great things to write about during the day, than I can never remember any of them.

The bus trip from the employee parking lot is a surreal experience. Imagine every stereotypical desert junkyard you've seen in every movie. Now replace the beat-up cars and tumbleweeds with faded (but still bright) ride backdrops and decrepit Bug Bunny statuary. It's eerie.

Also: there is this ride at Elitches, the Twister II, which is a wooden roller coaster. I've been on it a few times; it's a fun ride. When you're waiting for said bus to pick you up, you sit on a bench about 30 feet from this roller coaster, and you get the treat of watching it tremble violently and sway in excess of 1 foot every time a coaster car goes over it. I don't doubt it's safe, and I'll probably end up riding it again sometime, but it's still freaky.

My thighs still hurt, but my ankles not nearly as much. I'm taking that as a good sign.