I would never say that pulling a scam on an amusement park is a good or honorable pursuit, but if any place is ripe for scamming, it’s Six Flags. It is a place awash in Coed Naked, Big Johnson and Insane Clown Posse T-shirts and every few feet there is an advertisement, or something for sale at 300 percent market value. Mind you, it’s not just the corporation trying to sell you things, it’s all of your favorite Time-Warner-licensed characters, from Batman and Tweety Bird to CNN’s Anderson Cooper, should they ever find a use for him.
My favorite was always The Wheelchair Scam. It’s not really so much a scam as paying fifteen bucks extra for what I call a “super ticket” for yourself and three friends. What you do is you pay for a normal ticket and then go to the Guest Services building (limp there, if you think you can fake it) and tell them you need to rent a wheelchair. Explain why, fill out the forms and give them the money.
It’s a personal preference, but I always made it a point not to portray myself in a positive light, or as seriously infirmed. Example: “I got really drunk last night and jumped off my friend’s roof. I think I sprained my ankle or something.”
They don’t like you, but they give you the wheelchair. Voila! Now, instead of waiting in line, you and your friends can climb up the back way. You’ll be amazed to see how quickly you can exhaust the park.
There are two downsides. One is that someone will get stuck sitting down through an entire hot day of fun. If this sounds relaxing, it isn’t. After a couple hours you will be desperate to get up and move. The second is that, at some point in the day, you will feel like a horrible person. Truth is, you are a horrible person, and you won’t realize it until someone who is bound to the wheelchair year round says, “Don’t worry, you can go ahead of me. I’ll catch the next one.”
Asshole. (Eric Strom)