Space Bastard

First, a confession.

I used to be a bastard to my coworkers when I went to Disneyland on vacation.  As I got onto thrill rides and fastened my seatbelt, pulled down my lap bar, and otherwise got ready, I would call a coworker on my cellphone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Andy.”

“Hey Andy, why are you calling the office? You’re on vacation.”

“Yeah, I just wanted you to know that I’m on Space Mountain now.”

“You’re calling me from a roller coaster?”

“Yup, hang on, we’re going up the first lift.”

And I would keep my coworker on the speakerphone, as I yelled and whooped and generally had fun, until they called me a bastard and hung up.

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