Amish Cutters

We were in Branson, Missouri a few weeks ago at an amusement park called Silver Dollar City. I loved it there, and so did my wife, but most importantly our four year old daughter had a great time. It was late in the season, so lines were almost nonexistent. The Royal Tea Party, a carousel of whirling tea cups, spinning Happy Frogs, leaping Lady Bugs, and the Grand Exposition Coaster, a pint-sized roller coaster excited our little one and gave my wife and me smiles.

I didn’t mind pairing up with my daughter on these kiddie rides, but when I saw the free fall catapult at Fireman’s Landing, I knew I had to break away. Leaving Colleen with my wife and a package of assorted cotton candy, I walked onto the tail end of a line that was maybe twenty people deep. That was, until the Amish hooligans showed up.

I had seen a small Amish group, kids in their teens, in front of me, but I didn’t think much of it. The line moved forward and I was getting closer and closer, anticipating the adrenalin rush from launching into the sky. I never expected what happened next. A gang of Amish, waved over by the cabal ahead of me, hopped the line and cut right in front of me.

Amish cutters! Who would have thought they would make trouble? Who would have expected that? Is it even legal? Were they roaming amusement parks now? I stood there and stewed. What could I do? Was there anything I could say?

“Thou hast cut me. Get thee behind me, Amish!”

No, they outnumbered me. Maybe these were gun-toting Amish. I couldn’t let their straw hats and suspenders confuse me. They could be packing in those black, barn door pants. How long would it take to unbutton and fire? It was a better idea to play it safe.

What was next for the Amish after cutting lines? Stockpiling condiments and napkins at the food court? Extra powdered sugar on the funnel cakes? Shoo-fly pie in the face? I didn’t want to think about it. A world with Amish-amuck was too dangerous to consider. If you notice any suspicious Amish activity, let me know.