Oopsie.
Wednesday, 11 July 2007
Well... apologies for the recent delay in blog posts. Yesterday (Monday) we had a bit of a mini lock-in after work, which led on to some drinks around a fellow DS's chalet, and before you know what the fuck was happening, shennanigans ensued and I didn't actually leave the park until well after 8am. My long-suffering wife was not impressed (at least, I gathered from her reaction.) I didn't go to bed until just before 10am, finally rising at 4.30pm for a bite to eat, and then back to work. Felt like I'd never left. Quite surreal.
As a result, I was a bit of a zombie all night.
It's very quiet at the moment; low weekly check-in, and all that, which isn't a bad thing per se. We're overstaffed but the two agency guys are definitely and absolutely having their last night this coming Friday, so next week - and onwards - it's going to be more like the good old days, i.e., 2-3 DS on duty (if you're lucky) and three to four thousand lunatics in the bars. Sweet.
Couple of incidents tonight. I ejected one very drunk guy for making obscene gestures to some young girls, calling me a 'wanker' and then telling me to fuck off. Once I got him outside, he asked why he had to leave, informing me that he'd only acted in such a way because I'd called him 'a cunt'. I hadn't. He got a bit aggressive, as per usual, but eventually left. Two minutes later he was back at the main gates, complete with a total personality change.
"Er... I'm really sorry about earlier. Um, do you think I could go back inside for a second, as I've walked out and left my kid in there..."
And he had. The kid was about five years old, and once we'd found him back in the family bar and his dad had passed on the news, starting balling his eyes out about having to leave. "Can't we just stay?" the five-minutes-earlier-drunk-mental asked me, but there was no chance. I felt like a bit of a rotter, but he made his own bed.
Post-closing, we were standing outside getting the last few people back home, when suddenly Random Bloke A runs over and smacks Random Bloke B hard in the mouth, knocking him out and sending him backwards down a slope, where he smacks his head and is completely unconscious for a good ten minutes. It looked a bit iffy for a while, but eventually he came to and got back on his feet. He was very drunk, which made any kind of diagnosis a bit of a blur. The puncher was picked up by park security, but the punchee decided he didn't want to press charges. Bet he changes his mind when he's sober, but alas, by then, it'll be too late.
posted by Sheamus @ 2:00 am
