Chris Grabenstein Rolling Thunder 1 The day starts like so many others with John Ceepak: We bust an eight-year-old girl for wearing high heels.
“She wants to ride the ride!” says the kid’s mother, who, I’m assuming, was her accomplice in the beat-the-roller-coaster-height-requirement scam. The ponytail piled up on top of the short girl’s head (which makes her look like one of the Whos from Whoville) was, no doubt, another part of the plan.
“The rules regarding the minimum height requirement are in place to protect your daughter,” says Ceepak.
“I wanna ride the ride!” The little girl stamps her foot so hard she snaps off a heel.
“This way,” says Ceepak, indicating how mother and daughter should exit the line snaking about a mile up the boardwalk from the entrance to Big Paddy’s Rolling Thunder, the brand-new, all-wood roller coaster rising up behind us like a humongous humpbacked whale made out of two-by-fours.
It’s the Saturday of...
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