When I was visiting my brother in New York back in 2002, he took me to the Six Flags amusement park in New Jersey. After we rode every roller coaster in the park (about nine) we decided we’d go to the game stalls and try to win some stuffed toys.
After my brother made all the stalls re-order stock from winning everything that was on display, my eye caught Animal hanging alongside Kermit and Miss Piggy at a lonely looking stall on the outskirts of the stall boulevard. He was looking longingly at the exit gates behind us, the want of freedom plastered on his stuffed face (and he was probably over Miss Piggy’s tyrannical Kung Fu Hustle). We made eye-contact and I could see that he saw in me his last hope of ever playing the drums again.
“Whatta I gotta do to get Animal?” I asked the vendor in a perfect New Jerseyian accent (why raise suspicions?)
“Knock over at least three cans,” he replied with his ‘don’t-give-a-fuck’ attitude.
“Gimme da ball, Chief,” says I. “And stand back.”
I knocked four cans down with my first shot.
“Release Animal,” I demanded politely.
“Morning,” I grumbled, trying to recall if I had only danced all night.
Originally posted on The Nomadic Diaries
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Photos courtesy of the author.