I got a whopping two hours of sleep this morning. On the way home some dimwit on a motorcycle decided that in a construction zone at 3 in the morning was the best place to speed into an oncoming semi. They ended up shutting down I-4 for a while. They were not even letting people onto the off ramps. They usually do that when the accident is so bad they have to scrape someone up with a shovel.
They need to invent the I-4 bulldozer. Whenever there is an accident that is blocking the lanes, the I-4 bulldozer shows up and just pushes the entire mess to the side of the road so that people can get by. Makes more sense then lighting hundreds of flares and then stand around for a few hours drinking coffee and looking at the flashing lights.
We have been having a problem with an idiot at my work. When I say 'we' I mean I and the girl who works in the same little area as me. I am in the cage, she is at the desk. Out in front of us is the dimwit. Up until last night the dimwit has been stupid, but not a problem
This guy is probably in his late 40's or 50's. He is stooped, almost hunchbacked, and has graying hair and thick glasses. He wears dirty shirts from 1970 bands that look like he actually bought them in 1970. When he stops to listen or think he stops and his head cocks to the side and his mouth hangs open. For a while I thought he might be hard of hearing, until I realized he was just stupid.
He also smokes cigarettes in one of the most disgusting manners I have ever seen. I have never before thought of someone smoking a cigarette in a way that would annoy me, but this guy manages it. He holds the cigarette European style, between his thumb and forefinger. The cherry faces his palm and the butt points to the sky. Instead of lifting the cigarette, he instead bends his head forward and starts taking a series of greedy little rapid-fire puffs. When a thick haze finally covers his face, he will lean back and cock his head with his mouth hanging open in that moronic manner. After a moment he will resume. He smokes 2 cigarettes in succession in this fashion.
His job in the house is to stand right next to the door where people come in. While I distract people when they enter, he is supposed to jump out and spook them. It's really simple, and I don't know why he cannot grasp the concept. Instead he just stands there, shakes peoples hands, tries to start conversations, and hands people his monkey. (He has a little stuffed monkey as part of his costume) That last part confuses people, and holds up the line. Every now and then he will yell 'This waaayy!' in a Dracula voice. WTF.
Until last night, I just ignored him. I figured he was an idiot but he was not doing any real harm. Well last night he got bored or restless and started wandering up and down the little stretch of hallway in front of me. He went and leaned on the girl's desk that works next to me, which really annoyed her because that was her scarezone. On top of that he was semi-blocking the door that led into the next room. When people go through the house and they see someone dressed in costume, they usually wait for them to do something. Either give a 'boo' or move out of the way. So the people would see him, and stop, holding up the line. The longer the line gets held up, the longer people have to wait in line outside, and the longer we have to work.
Then he found a flashlight somewhere and began wandering around waving the flashlight at people, which confused them further. At one point he stopped in the middle of the hallway, and cocked his head with his mouth hanging open, not moving. Behind him was someone with a wheelchair trying to get past. Both the girl and I started yelling MOVE! But he just stood there. After a moment he wandered away.
At one point he stopped directly in front of my cage and just leaned against it, blocking everyone's view from me. I started screaming in his ear 'MOVE IT, DUMBASS! MOVE IT DUMB ASS! MOVE IT DUMB ASS!' But he just stood there. The guy must have some sort of brain damage.
On the next break the girl and I went to complain to one of the house managers. She made a little note on a post it note. I wonder if they are going to do anything about it. They usually take their house stuff seriously, but they seem to be at a loss as what to do with this guy.
So I go back tonight and work until 2:30 again. Tomorrow I am going to sleep. Sweet sweet sleep.
2026 Update
Firing up the time-machine over a haunted house and a highway mess—Ed, you glorious sleep-deprived ghoul.
Ah, 2006. Somewhere between audience participation and the modern smartphone, Ed is losing sleep to a hunchbacked scareactor with a stuffed monkey and a European cigarette grip. What a time. Since then we've changed everything—and nothing. You wouldn't stand around for hours with flares now; you'd stare at a phone map that reroutes you around the flashing lights, and three people would already be livestreaming the cleanup for clout. Smoking like that indoors? Practically a period piece. That poor man's chain-puffing style would get him exiled to the parking lot with the vapers, if not retired entirely by a culture that treats lungs like a subscription you keep forgetting to cancel. And haunted houses? They're theatrical experiences now, all fog machines and animatronic synchronicity, not a hallway where a guy in a dirty 1970 band shirt hands people a monkey. You got to keep the human chaos, Ed. That's the whole charm. But next time, maybe save the bulldozer idea for the roads, not for coworkers.
“2006 Ed, did that post-it note complaint ever actually make the stooped scareactor move, or did you just spend the rest of the season screaming “MOVE IT, DUMBASS!” into a man’s ear while he stood there, mouth open, handing his monkey to a wheelchair?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2006 Ed: So, Beelzebubba, you know the answer before I even say it. That post-it note went the way of most post-it notes at Horror Nights, straight into the void, probably stuck to someone's coffee cup or swept up with the fog juice spills. The stooped guy never moved. Not an inch, not a single cock-eyed, mouth-hanging-open shuffle. I spent the rest of the season screaming “MOVE IT, DUMBASS!” into that man's ear until my voice gave out somewhere around Hell Week. He'd just lean there, monkey in hand, like I was part of the ambience. The wheelchair guy eventually got through, but only because the girl shoved the dimwit aside herself. I think he actually liked the attention, honestly. Some people are beyond help, and some are beyond post-its.
