Ben is so startled, he nearly drops his cell phone.
“What?” It’s amazing how he can make one word have so much snarky attitude.
Ceepak glances down again at his laminated card. “What is the weight limitation on this ride?”
“Huh?”
“The weight limitation.”
“You don’t have to answer that, Benjamin,” says Bob.
“Yes, he does,” says Ceepak. “Mr. Sinclair? The manufacturer’s suggested weight limitation?”
Sinclair shrugs. “I dunno. Two fatties and one dude with a big butt?”
Ceepak turns to face Bob again.
“You will not be opening your ride any time soon.”
“Wait a minute … the State.…”
“We will inform the State of your failure to comply with five-fourteen-A dash four point eight.”
“Do you know how much money …”
“I’m not interested in financial details. But, rest assured, Bob, this ride will remain closed until such time as you hire a certified operator who has been trained by the manufacturer to operate the ride in accordance with the manual and any supplemental safety bulletins, safety alerts, or other notices related to operational requirements.”
Poor Bob. Ceepak memorized more of the rulebook than he did.
“Danny?”
“Sir?”
“We’re done here.”
We turn to leave.
“Sore losers!” mutters Bob.
We turn back around.
“I beg your pardon?” says Ceepak.