For one summer when I was sixteen years old, I worked at Great America, in a game booth called “The Amazing Alfredo.” You’d give me one dollar and I’d guess your age or weight within three years or three pounds. You’d write one of these numbers down on a slip of paper and hand it back to the Six Flags employee to your right, who is stoned. His name is Chip. Think of Chip as your arbitration counselor and this […]

Categories: Essay Fiesta, Scott Stealey