You would think working at a theme park would make life a dream, but it is not as glamorous as you think. Oh, I guess I should back-up. My name is Sterling Lanesburough, and I'm an early 20s kinda gal. I love texting with friends, posting selfies on social media, and robots. Robots? Yeah, I'm a tech-geek. I don't know how it all works, but then I don't care. I just wanna be in a science-fiction future where everything is run perfectly by computers. And beyond that, I want my cute, curvy body to be made into an android or robot or cyborg or whatever future tech we have then (hard to admit that in public, but a lot has happened recently).
So, you might be wondering why I'm telling you...well, I got some time to pass at the moment, and I thought you might be interested. You can keep a secret, right? Anyway, let's begin the story where I work: Carriewood Theme Park. It's a small theme park that is modeled after the bigger name ones. It has a hometown feel for those that want to go back to the way things were in “small town USA”. Of course, with today's technology, even the "feel" of “small town” is a fake. Just a quick note on that, the big "steam engine" that rumbles around the park is electric. Yeah, really...I'm serious. The sounds of the engine are speakers underneath and the "steam" is a smoke machine also hidden underneath. And for that matter, the engine doesn't pull the train...each car has its own motor that...wait, I'm getting off track here...where was I? Oh, right...
I work in the ticket booth mostly, selling and taking tickets for the day. I work shifts that start around 9am and go until about 6pm. I get breaks every 3 hours, with one of those being lunch. It is not a glamorous job, but with my college degree on hold (that's a whole other story), I need some money from a job that does not require a lot of training or skill. My uniform is a brightly colored polo with Carriewood across my sleeve and a mountain range across my chest. I will be the first to admit: what kind of idiot makes a woman wear mountains on her chest? It is like the management is just asking for people to stare at my breasts.
And let me tell you, they do. Every man, woman, and kid seems to notice them. Even though I see people all day long, I'm not sure I have made eye contact with any of them. My "mountain ranges" get plenty of eye contact, but not my eyes. I found a chest-reducing bra online, and ordered that after my first month working here. It was a little uncomfortable at first, but I've gotten used to it. It has helped quite a bit, so now, I can actually talk to women and children by looking into their eyes. The men...well, two out of three isn't bad, right?
As to the rest of my uniform, it's standard loose-fitting khaki pants and brown boots. I went down to one of the boot stores before I even started and bought me several pairs of cowgirl boots. They have sales all the time about buy one get one free, or in my case, buy one get two free. Now don't be impressed, they are not high quality, but they have cute designs on the sides, and they make me look country. I keep my long, thick light brown (almost blonde) hair down about my shoulders. The cowboy hat I have to wear (and yes, it is a cowboy hat...they didn't like my cowgirl hat I wore the first day) sets on my head in such a way that I can't really pull my hair back without making my hat sit weird. All in all, it is not an awful uniform, but it is definitely not my style.
Oh, I got distracted again, so anyway, I'm a ticket taker. And during my breaks, I grab a quick snack and sit over by one of the many shows they have here. It's a country bluegrass band with dancers, singers, and some silly jokes. The audience will laugh, and clap, and sing along. What the audience does not know is that none of the band members are real. That's right...top secret information here...the band members are robots that were built somewhere in Montana, programmed in California, and shipped to us. They look and act like humans while on stage during the performance, but afterwards, they are lifeless. The dancers are real people, which makes it easier to sell that the band must be too. You might be asking how I know, well, I walked back there after a show to introduce myself to the fiddle player. He was pretty cute, and I thought it might be fun to meet someone new (how my last boyfriend left me is enough to make me give up on men altogether...again, that's another story). I sneak backstage after the curtain has come down to another round of applause by the audience that is now leaving the open-air theater. The dancers are walking off stage in back, chatting as they go. In my uniform, they pay me no mind, so I get right up on stage easily.
As soon as I get close, I know something is wrong. The whole band is still there, but none of them are moving. In fact, they are in the exact same position when the curtain went down. I know you are supposed to hold your pose until the curtain falls, but this is ridiculous. It was at this point I realize that they are not real. Stepping up to the fiddle player, I can see his eyes are lifeless now, and his skin is soft but not quite lifelike. He has clothes like a person, and his joints are all covered with fake skin, which looks real from a distance. Checking all the others, they are the same. They have lifelike appearances...slightly balding on top, or a small pot belly, or wrinkles around the eyes. I pull the sunglasses off of the bass player, and notice his right eye is damaged. I suppose it has not been fixed yet, so they covered it with sunglasses. It's a theme park, so they will cut corners if they can.
Somewhat disappointed, I turn to leave, but before I can, I hear footsteps of someone coming. I figure they will ignore me until I hear, "They better not have let anyone back here again...getting harder and harder to keep this secret with the dancers being so careless." I then hear the reply, "Yeah, hard to find replacements when they keep firing them for letting this out of the bag." Gulp, I think, this is not good. I don't want someone fired because of me, or even worse, being fired. Looking around, I grab a harmonica off the stand next to the drummer. Standing back from him and as far from the stairs as I can, I put the sunglasses on and put the harmonica up to my lips. I strike a pose with my elbows out, as if I was playing that last note. It is hard to see with the dark shades in the darkened back stage, but I can make out two forms walking up the stairs and heading our, uh I mean, my way.
They walk straight to the bass player. "Oh look," one points out, "Jim must have already been here, the glasses are gone." The other guy grunts something and takes out his tool kit. I watch out of the corner of my eye, the two men removing and replacing the bass players eye. It was fascinating...I'm not gonna lie. It was worth being back here, just to see that. The detail was incredible, and I figure they can actually see with them, because the one guy used his tablet to check the resolution of the image. I have no idea why the eyes need to actually work, but it was so sweet to see that they do. They do a quick look around after finishing up, so I figure I'm safe when they leave, but then one stops and says, "Hey, does the harmonica chick have a broken eye, too?" Oh snap, they caught me.
The one walks over to me and reaches for my borrowed glasses. Okay okay okay, I think, just stare straight ahead...no emotion. I can feel his hands grab the glasses and pull them off. I resist the urge to flinch and I keep staring ahead. His dark brown eyes stare into my light blue ones. He is so close, I can smell the barbeque he just ate at Tom's BBQ Wagon. Backing away, he keeps the sunglasses, "nope, they are good." Looking at my name tag, he says with a grin, "Laney's eyes are right pretty if I must say so...gotta be that new blue they have been saying was coming." Frozen with fear at the sound of my name (when you have a name as long as mine, you gotta have something shorter to put on a nametag), I just hold my pose as he turns around and they leave the way they came. I breath a sigh of relief as soon as I'm sure they are gone. "Whew, that was close," I whisper. I feel tingly all over now, and I figure it's my adrenaline from the ordeal. But it feels different, like nothing I have felt before.
Okay, so here is where it gets weird. I figured out later that I enjoyed fooling them into thinking I was not real. There was some new kind of adrenaline in my system now that made me almost drunk with excitement. I couldn't stop smiling, for days even. Admittedly, it might have been the nice compliment about my eyes, but I know it is more than that. I enjoyed pretending to be an animatronic band member, and now, I want more. The question is: how? I don't want people to know that I want to do that. I mean, it's weird, right? Anyway, that answer would come just in the nick of time.
Later in the week, I'm in the locker room where we all get changed for the day. Our boss, Mr Sykes (he might have a first name, but I doubt it), comes in and looks concerned. Stopping in the middle of the room filled with metal lockers and benches, he clears his throat (he always clears his throat before talking) and says, "I have an interesting position that needs filling for the day, so would anyone like to try something new?" Now most of the people in the room are like me, so they need the money more than they need the change of venue. However, several put up their hands, myself included. He then clears his throat, "Well, this might deter some of you, but I need someone to act as one of our animatronics today. One broke and we can't get the part we need until later today, but the show must go on, you know." When he said that, everybody's hand went down quickly, except mine. I was lost in the excitement. Inside, I started feeling those tingles again, and I knew I wanted this. But then, could I really do this in front of others, knowing they will know?
As I pull my hand down at the last, I notice Mr Sykes is walking over to me. "So, Laney," he says clearing his throat again, "You were the last to pull your hand down, so maybe you could do it." Looking at him, my whole mind screams YES, but looking around the room quickly, I reply, "Come on, Mr Sykes, do I have to? I mean, I'll do it, but are you sure you want me to do it?" I know it was a gamble playing this "so calm and cool", but I also want my secret desires to stay just that: a secret. He nods his head and replies, "You'll be great, darling. Let me show you what you gotta do." Shrugging my shoulders, I follow him out of the locker room. I can tell I won points with my co-workers today, because nobody wanted this, and they assume I didn't want it, so it's a win-win for me.
We walk over to the "Old Town Saloon" show. It is what you expect (if you like the unexpected): a saloon built on a rotating stage that is divided into three sections. The audience watches from the seats of the indoor theater. The stage has three "scenes" that can be set, so when one is done, they just rotate it for the next scene. It's your typical cheesey western scenes, but the boys find it "fun and cool", and the parents can sit in the air conditioned theater for about 30 minutes to take a break from the heat of the day. It works for everyone, except maybe for little girls: there's no princesses in these scenes.
So we get backstage, and I can see two of the scenes facing me, with the third facing the empty theater. Each scene looks to have the same identical background. "As you can see," Mr Sykes clears his throat, "We have three sections of the stage that can be rotated so that the audience only sees one at a time. The wood paneling, the dark wood furniture, the classic bar for the drinks...it is all what you expect from an 1800s saloon in the west." As he talks about it, I note the many animatronic characters in the scenes: cowboys, a sheriff, bartender, the dancing ladies, town folk, etc. I don't know who I will be, but I know I can't wait.
He walks onto the set and says, "Don't worry about your lines to speak, because your character doesn't have any. You will be one of the dancing girls over here." I look over at a wooden card table, set-up for poker or some other game. There's chips and coins all over it. Behind it sits a cowboy in his blue denim shirt and leather chaps. His cowboy hat looks to be on the dancing girl next to him as she is draped on his arm. Her outfit is red, trimmed in black, off the shoulder and somewhat revealing of her cleavage. As excited as I was before, I'm now a little concerned about bearing so much of myself in public while pretending to be a robot. He walks out of the scene and grabs an outfit that looks like the one being worn by the other dancing girl. "There's," clearing his throat, "An area over there you can change into. I'll wait here. When you come back, I'll show you where to stand and what to do. It's real easy." I start to object, but then he walks away from me to do something else.
Standing in the darkened backstage with just frozen robots around me, I shrug my shoulders and gulp loudly. "Here we go," I whisper and go to the alcove to change. The outfit is not really comfortable, as it is cheaply made (like everything at this theme park). The red frilly dress has no support for my girls, so I leave my bra on, pulling the bra straps down off my shoulders so they don't show. The dress has some metal in the waist area, kinda like a corset (but not really), so my middle gets a bit of a tuck with this outfit. The short, flowy dress goes down to my knees and swishes when I walk. The panty hose are itchy, but they fit mostly, and the shoes are really too big, but I can't fix that. I pull my hair up and away from my face with the black hair band, and slip the black choker with a red jewel in the center around my neck.
I shuffle out of the alcove, as Mr Sykes walks over. "Ah, the shoes, didn't think of that." As he ponders that, the backstage door opens. "Oh no," he says excitedly, "Uh, listen, what I've asked you to do is not provided for by the park rules," he explains quickly,"So I need you to not tell anyone and not break character okay?" With a questioning look on my face, I ask, "Uh, I guess, but what..." He holds up his finger to his lips and whispers, "freeze." I know I have gotten myself out of sorts here, and now I just want to run away. But when he says "freeze", there was just something about that. I felt tingly all over, and though my mind said 'run', my body 'froze'.
"Sykes," the lady with a rather deep voice says sternly, "Did you find a replacement in the warehouse?" The lady looks familiar, as I think I have seen her around the park. She is an operations manager or something like that. She oversees the way the park runs, so she must be Mr Sykes' boss, I guess. I hold my pose, standing with my hands at my sides, and staring blankly ahead. She is wearing a pinstripe suit and looks to be rather tall. As compared to me, she looks to be a pole, as it is hard to tell if she has any curvature on her body. Her make-up, earrings, and hair style are the only reason I think she is a she. Mr Sykes replies, "Uh yes, oh here she, uh it is. Found her, uh it, in the warehouse. She's younger, uh I mean, it's an older model."
The woman looks me up and down, close enough that I can smell her perfume. She walks behind me, and I feel her hands grabbing the back of my dress. As she fiddles with the clasps, I can feel the dress getting tighter around my waist. "Well, older doesn't matter, since it has no lines to speak. I would prefer it be able to move with the others on cue though, have you tested it's motors yet?" Mr Sykes clears his throat two times replying, "Uh, no, I was having trouble with the shoes, so I had not gotten there." The lady pulls my dress aside and remarks, "Yeah, the older models have smaller feet. The newer ones were made bigger to improve stability. There should be some binder boots back here, I'll find them while you sit it down so we can get it ready." She turns on her heel and clunks away on the wooden floor, she must be wearing thick heels under her long pants.
Mr Sykes pulls a chair over and asks, "Sit down here and we'll get you set up." I reply as I sit, "Mr Sykes, with all due respect, sir, there is no way I can do this. I don't even know..." He puts his hand to his lips as I hear the lady clunking back this way. Kneeling down, he pulls my foot up and removes the loose shoe. She hands him a boot that will go about half way up my calf. It is black with a small heel and has a series of black buckles all the way from the heel to the top. Slipping it on my foot, he tightens each strap until the boot is secured to my foot. Setting my left foot down he repeats for the right. They fit, but ow, I grimace to myself, they are really tight.
She hands him some black gloves and says, "Found these. Put them on it and get it in place. I'll cue up the scenes to make sure it is synced right." She doesn't even look at me, I note, as she walks away. To her, I'm an object...I'm not real. Again, that thought makes me all tingly all over. I can just leave now happy, but then Mr Sykes whispers, "Come on, Laney, let's get you set-up and I'll tell you what to do." We walk over to the scene on the left of the two facing us. "Ok," he clears his throat softer this time, "You are in scene two. You will be behind Texas here," he says while pointing at the cowboy seated at the table. "On his right is Stetson, because she gets to wear his hat, and you are Midnight." I look at him strangely, as he explains, "Uh, yeah, the normal robot that is here was actually made for an African exhibit at another park, so it's as black as midnight." I snicker to myself as I look at my light colored skin and hair: I'm as far from "midnight" as you can get.
"Anyway," he continues while handing me the gloves, "Texas will say things and you and Stetson will pretend to laugh at them, no sound though. He will move his arms around you and the other one, but nothing scandalous. But, he will get shot at the end, so you have to act surprised and scared, okay?" Trying to replay what he said, "Let him touch me, think he is funny, then be shocked when it doesn't work out. Huh, sounds like my last relationship." Mr Sykes does not catch the irony and continues on. "Your boots will be locked to the floor, so all you have to do is move your top half. Once the scene is over, freeze in place until you are rotated around, then reset your position. Hold that pose until you are rotated around again. There's 6 shows today, so I'll come back around lunch time to get you, okay?" Nodding my head absently, I pull the black, shiny elbow-length gloves up and walk behind the card table.
Looking down, I can see a place for my right boot to be placed, but not one for my left. As I look up to ask Mr Sykes, I see that she is coming back. Freezing in place, Mr Sykes moves towards me. "Leave it, Sykes," she orders, "I know you got to get the parade set-up. I'll lock it down and check it, okay?" Mr Sykes wavers as he looks at me, "Uh, really, Ms Flanders, I can do it." Ms Flanders does not flinch, "No, no, you go ahead. You found a replacement and saved the Saloon today, so I don't want you too far behind." Looking back at me and then at her, he walks away. "Yes, ma'am, and thank you!" She nods her head, but I think the 'thank you' was for me.
Wasting no time, she bends down and holds my left foot in place. Grabbing my right foot, she picks it up and put it into the locking mechanism. I let my leg be moved with some resistance, figuring I shouldn't be helping her. I mean, I'm "turned off" at the moment, so I'm not "aware" of what it going on (makes sense to me, anyway). I can hear a snap, as my boot lands firmly into the lock. She shakes it to be sure. Standing up, she remarks, "Now here's the fun part..." She goes around to my left. I feel her right hand on my back while she reaches under my dress to grab my left boot. Picking up my left foot, she hikes it into the air and places it on the chair next to the table. When I hear the same locking sound, I realize why I couldn't see the other lock for my left boot on the floor: it's in the chair.
Letting go of my back, she checks my boot on the chair, which must also be bolted to the floor. Satisfied, she straightens up. She pulls my dress up a bit to show off my left leg. She moves my right arm to lean on the left shoulder of Texas. She bends my left arm to go on my waist. She pushes on my upper back to straighten my posture. Walking around to the front of the table, she looks at the three of us. "Hmmm, just about right..." She walks back to me and pulls the dress down off my shoulders to match Stetson's. "There we go, perfect!" She walks away loudly to a control panel. Instantly, I feel Texas shift and move, almost making me jump.
From the speakers, I hear, "Now that's a funny joke, partner." I hear laughter from both men and women, so when I feel his shoulder shake, I figure that is my cue. So, I smile and laugh silently, shaking my shoulders too. It must have been convincing, because when Texas stops moving, so do I. My mouth open with laughter, I hear, "And synchronization complete..." Satisfied with her work, Ms Flanders leaves the theater. And when the door closes, it is deathly silent. I cannot hear anything. No movement, no sound. It is just me and my other robots. And though I know I shouldn't, I couldn't stifle a giggle from where I get to be today, the sound of it echoing in the empty room.
So, spoiler alert: it went great and I had so much fun! I would stay still as the stage rotated under me, then I could feel the eyes of the crowd on me. I played my part, moving when it seemed right and smiling on cue. One thing I didn't know was the show had live people in it. There are two narrators, male and female, that walk in and around the 3 stages, telling the story. When it comes time to rotate scenes, they step off the rotating part of the stage to introduce the next scene. Then once it stops, they step right back in. Both of the them walked right by me, talking of the old west, neither seemed to notice me as anything but a robot. In fact, in my scene where Texas gets shot, the guy narrator ducks behind me, pretending to use me as a shield. He plays it off saying something like, "I wasn't scared" to the audience.
The whole thing went off without a hitch, with no one noticing that I was not a robot like all the others. The only issue I had was with my wardrobe. When the stage rotates, it is very smooth, but the stopping part is a little jerky. We glide in a circle then, bam...we're stopped! Well, we had just finished the fifth show, and as the stage stopped from rotating back to show scene one, my reducing bra failed. If you recall, I had pulled the straps around my shoulders to hide them in the dress. So I guess over time and jostling, the clasp in back couldn't hold. So, as we stopped, boing! My girls came busting out. The instant relief was nice, but the embarrassment was real, even though no one could see me. The good news, besides it happening backstage, was that the dress had enough room for my expanding chest. There would be no time to fix it, so I kept my pose and would just give the final audience a bit more of a look of my cleavage. Now, I wouldn't say it was scandalous for the character I was playing, but it was more than I would normally like to show. Any where else, I would be mortified, but as a robot, I don't have feelings. Again, I had to stifle a giggle.
After it was all over, a group of guys came back stage with a large cart with multiple shelves on it. They began to unclasp some of the robots to put them on the shelves. I overheard one talk about getting them over to the train station exhibit. I guess the park doesn't want to spend the money on more animatronic people, so they have real people move them around throughout the day. It makes sense, I guess. Anyway, they ignored me and Texas, grabbing Stetson instead. She was hoisted up into their arms and laid into the cart with the others. Once it was full, they covered the sides with a flap that blocked your view of the cart's contents. The logo on the side said "Food Services". So like all theme parks, there is a level of mystery to them.
Once they left, I unlocked myself and went back to find my clothes. I was just finished dressing, when Mr Sykes came back. He was very grateful and really appreciated my hard work. He gave me a stack of vouchers for free lunches at the Watering Hole near the front of the park. I told him that it was 'no problem' (didn't want to sound too excited) and that I am a team player (hinting that I would do it again). As I left by the backdoor, I still felt like I had won the lottery. I was so happy and excited, feeling a way that I had not felt in a long time. And while I know I can't do this forever, I intend on doing it again, and like this time, enjoying it as much as possible.
The next couple of weeks for me were normal as you would expect. The fall season is kinda busy for us here, so I didn't have much time to fantasize. It was non-stop work from sun-up to sunset. I liked the distraction, and it kept everyone from thinking about me being a robot. But you are probably wondering then how I ended up here, so I should probably skip to that part. So like I said, it had been a few weeks since my rotating debut in the saloon, when Mr Sykes came up with another request. He didn't ask everybody this time. He just came to me in the locker room that morning. As before, I kinda protested and made some excuses, but I eventually said yes (didn't want to put up too good a fight, right?). This one will be "more interesting but easier", which in my mind made no sense.
Well, we walked over to the Stampede Barn. In the back, there are several robots standing at attention along one wall. They are wearing red, white, and blue button down, long sleeve, collared shirts. Their pants are just as red, white and blue, with white leather chaps. They each have large white cowboy hats with white boots and white gloves to match. "So, one of our older models finally broke," he says clearing his throat, "And these models don't have any features that animate them more than just their face and heads." Looking at him with a questioning face, he adds, "Uh, they were cheap robots that are nothing more than heavy mannequins." I nod my head and mouth "O" to him. "One of the lady ones feel apart after one fell down the concrete steps in Frontier Town." I chuckle at that...Herb. We all heard about his joyride on the golf cart. The dummy didn't realize he was pulling a trailer full of stuff until he hit the steps...there was stuff scattered everywhere. Somehow, and I still can't believe this, he got away with it.
Tuning back into Mr Sykes, I hear, "...just sit and enjoy the ride. Pretty simple." At 'ride', I ask, "Uh, you mean, like actually on a horse?" I've never ridden a horse, even though I work at a place that has them everywhere. He chuckles, "Well, yes. You cannot be a Stampede Rider unless you are riding a horse. But don't worry, the ones you will be on are our latest animatronic ones, so it is programmed where to go and what to do. You just hold onto the flag pole in your left hand, which will be hooked in the holder by your left foot, then hold onto the reins in your right hand. Smile...turn your head from side to side as needed. Nothing to it." Thinking back, it did sound easy, right? Just gotta sit and smile...I do that all the time. But again, there's always complications.
For starters, the show is starting soon and I'm not dressed. Mr Sykes is handing me my clothes when a couple of techs walk by. He gives me that look, so I pretend to be a frozen robot holding the folded outfit. "Hey, Sykes," the one yells, "You find a replacement yet. Looks like the other one you got will be great." Out of the corner of my eye, the other fellow nods. Mr Sykes clears his throat louder this time than usual, "Why, yes. I did, and that's good about the other. I was about to get her, uh it, ready for the show at 10:15." The first guy says, "Ah, you mean 9:45, don't ya? Time change for the month of November, you know." Mr Sykes curses under his breath, "Oh, I forgot about that. Well, there's no..." The first guy interrupts him, "We bring the 'bot dresser' over every day now, since we have to reuse so many robots for this show. So, we can run it through the machine with no problem." I gulp to myself, 'run it through the machine?' What you mean is put a human, that would be me, into a machine that dresses robots, I think nervously.
Again, I know what you are thinking, 'you asked for this Laney'. And maybe you're right, but not really, because it just got more real now than before. Nobody said anything about being dressed by a machine. Of course, I couldn't protest without getting us both fired. Neither me or Sykes had time to argue anyway, because the other guy had a hand truck close by, so I was tilted and loaded onto the hand truck, still holding my costume before either of us could say 'no'. Mr Sykes was mumbling something to them, but he never got much out, as the first guy went on and on about how "we got this" and "don't worry about it" and all that. For me, I just stared up towards the ceiling as he wheeled me through the backstage of the barn.
In this part of the park, the hustle and bustle is not really there. The people in this part of the barn are few, as this is mostly a place for equipment, supplies, and robots. I can clearly hear the squeaky wheel on the hand cart as he pushes me in and around giant bulls that must be animatronic, rows of saddles, big barrels, miles of rope, and then finally the 'bot dresser'. Now if I'm being honest here, it doesn't look as scary as it sounds. It kinda looks like a small food truck. It is silver with no markings on it. It has a cab up front for two people to sit and drive, and the back has what looks like two doors on the back.
Wheeling me to it, he pushes a button on the side. The left door on the back of the truck opens and a small platform is lowered. He wheels me onto the platform, facing the truck. He removes the handtruck from under my feet and grabs my costume. I'm not sure what he does next, as I can't see him, but he must have put it into the truck somehow. Pushing another button, I'm raised up with the platform into the back of the truck. As the platform goes up, so does my heart rate. I cannot even begin to describe to you how scared I was. I was about to be dressed by a machine that thinks I'm a machine.
At the last minute, I figure I can jump and make a run for it, but then I'm too late. With a whoosh of air, I'm pulled in and the door closes behind me. It was completely dark inside, so I don't know how it did it. All I know, one moment I'm wearing clothes, and the next moment, I'm naked. Before I can cover my shivering body (wow, it was so cold in there), the costume is put on me. I try not to struggle, but it didn't really matter. One moment I'm naked, and the next I'm dressed. I can feel the tight pants on me, along with the chaps that are even tighter. The gloves are stiff, so its hard to move my fingers. The cowboy hat must weigh 10 pounds, as it feels so incredibly heavy. My shirt fits well, but something seems wrong though. Before I can figure it out, I'm being lowered down from the truck, exiting through the other door on the back of it. When I get to the bottom, Mr Sykes is there. Looking me up and down, then looking left and right, he says, "They are gone. I sent them on an errand so I could check on you, you okay?" I nod and let out a breathless 'yes'. He asks again, "Did it hurt you, are you okay?" I flex my fingers and stomp my feet into the stiff boots, "Yeah, uh yes, sir, I"m fine. It didn't hurt at all. The costume feels fine, but...". He interrupts me with, "Your top, yes I can see we have a couple of problems."
I look down at the top, and it is a wonder the buttons hadn't popped off. Evidently, the robot that wears this is flat chested, and I'm anything but that. You can easily see inbetween the gaps of the buttons. My chest is highly visible by anybody, and I doubt the shirt will take me bouncing up and down on the horse before bursting. "Woah, my girls are trying to come out." Mr Sykes nodded uncomfortably and mumbled, "Five kids with breast feeding and my wife's still aren't near that big..." shaking his head, he says, "Your former uniform should be on the compartment on the side, so perhaps you can put your uh, bra back on." We step around the truck and sure enough, there's my uniform all folded neatly. My restricting bra is on top, so I grab it quickly. Mr Sykes turns away and walks towards the front of the truck. I unbutton a couple of buttons in the middle carefully, and slip my bra in and around me. This would not be the first time I put my bra on after putting on my shirt (another story). I cannot get the straps over my shoulders, but I can get the rest of it on.
Once it is clasped, I rebutton my shirt. Looking down, the shirt is still bulging with my chest closed inside, but I'm no longer showing any skin. "Ok, I got it." Mr Sykes turns around and smiles in relief, "Whew, that looks fine...now, to the horses." This adventure just keeps going...what did I do for fun before this happened? Oh yeah, I recall, nothing fun ever happened to me like this.
We walk back to the place where we started. No person around, so I can walk freely. Once we are back, he says, "Ok, you stand here next to the other 'lady' Stampede Riders. A horse will come by and a crane will pick you up and put you on. You will be attached to the horse by clips that are on its back and sewn into your chaps. Hold onto the flag pole placed in your hand and grab the reins when it's time. Got it?" I nod, not because I understand, but more to the point that if I came this far, I'm going through to the end, no matter what.
He tells me he will be back in a few hours to help me get away, but until then, just be a robot. So, I do just that. I stand at attention next to the others, waiting my turn to be used. I stand there for I don't know how long. I knew the show started soon, but I didn't have anyway of checking the time. Occasionally, someone would walk by, but they never looked at me twice. I couldn't help but giggle to myself. Eventually though, I heard music and the sounds of a crowd, so I knew it was close to time.
I heard the sound of clomping feet, and before I could think about that, I felt something come under each arm pit. Within seconds, I was hoisted up onto a horse that just seemed to appear out of no where. A pair of human hands from one of the workers here clipped me onto the horse. I can see the American flag on a pole being attached to the saddle by my feet. While standing on a step stool, the lady worker grabs my left hand and forces me to grip the pole. She then reaches in front of me to put the reins in my right hand, which now rests in front of me. Without a moments notice, I gallop away to the big double doors ahead.
Bounce and bounce I ride roughly along. I don't know what to do but sit, and sitting is definitely rough. The doors open and I ride into a dirt floored arena shaped like an oval. The stands surround the arena and the whole thing is covered, like being indoors. The spotlights hit me and other riders, as the audience cheers. There's no way to describe this feeling. I'm riding a horse (which I've never done), I'm on stage (again) in front of people in public, and they all think I'm a robot (there's those tingles again). I smile and turn my head slowly from side to side, taking in the audience's energy. They all look happy and cheerful and ready to see a show. I ride around and around the arena, as do the other Stampede Riders. When they introduce the Cowboys, I realize that not all of the performers are robots.
As it turns out, the Cowboys are the ones that do the bull riding and lassoing and trick riding. They hire real show riders for the stunts, while us robots just do the dress-up part. So, I escorted Buck Stallion (I have no idea if that is his real name) around the arena as he waves his hat and talks to the audience. There must be something on him or in his saddle, because my "horse" knew when to stop when his horse did. Mr Sykes was right about that, this part is easy. And to be truthful, the rest was easy too. I rode in and out of the arena whenever my "horse" was told to do so. I smiled each time and bounced like a ball for the entire show. I'll admit, my butt was sore after the first show, and I still had 3 more to do after this.
Each show was pretty much the same thing, so it was just like the saloon theater thing. The ending of the show was different, and that is where I will leave my story (because then you are caught up). I had been taken off the horse and was slumped in a pile of robots on the barn floor (I guess they aren't too worried about them at this point). While I waited for Mr Sykes, Ms Flanders came by. She did not act like she recognized me, but I recognized her. She was wearing another pinstripe suit of a slightly different color than the last time I saw her. She looks at her tablet and then down at the pile my robot "friends" are in. Looking at me (and my frozen smiling face), she says, "Yes, that one will do." At this point she pulls me up with my arms, like I was a big doll. She sets me a rolling chair and wheels me out towards the front.
Here is where I thought she was crazy. We are headed to the public area, and I was clearly not a person, so won't this violate the rules? Evidently, she had a plan, and of course, it worked. She pushed me into the Stampede Barn Gift Shop while it was closed. It opens just before and after performances for those attending, and then it closes briefly and reopens for anyone else at the park. I can smell the new merchandise as we speed down the carpetted aisles. At the front of the store, there are two sets of windows, and I know where I'm headed and what I'm doing once I see them. There are a dozen or so mannequins or robots in the windows, and yes, that is where I am now. I've been standing in the left window with my left hand on my hip and my right hand saluting those that walk by. The track lighting is above me, so my giant cowboy hat shades the top of my face well, so I can blink without too much worry. I have been holding this pose for I-don't-know-how-long, but the park has to be closing soon. I figure Mr Sykes is looking for me, but eventually I'll be able to sneak away.
So my story, yeah, it is weird. I have this job at an amusement park, but now I have another "job" as part of that one. Normally, if there is a such a thing as normal, I'm not a mannequin in a window but a robot on a horse or in a saloon or wherever they need one. I find the whole thing fun and exciting, and though I will be taking a long bath tonight to soak my aching muscles and my sore butt, I would do it all over again. And honestly, they will probably ask me again and again, because amusement parks only make money when they don't spend much money, and I know they are cheap. So, come by and join us at Carriewood. Watch a show, ride a ride, eat some country cooking, but don't look too closely at the robots, because one of them is me!