Something Tangible

As my time here in Yosemite comes to an end, as my summertime friends leave, as I realize that this completely unique experience will live on only in a few people's memories, I decided to leave something tangible. A song to commemorate our time sweating it out in the Cone Stand.

Thus, I present:

(Read this with the influence of the Fresh Prince, Weird Al Yankovic and the Beach Boys)

The Cone Stand Rock

Climbers come here for the walls

Tourists come here for the Falls

But why do I keep comin’ back?

For me, it’s all about the Cone Shack.

Chorus: I’m comin’ back for the Cone Shack

Cone Shacka lacka lacka Cone Shacka lacka

The kids inside are oh-so friendly

If they can hear my order over the Public Enemy

Personally I go for the double scoop

And I just pick off the mouse poop

Brightly lit and clean is how it’s supposed to be

But the way they keep t, it’s light-free

The Devil’s Cone Shack

Open three months of the year

Hot dog stinky, the windows never quite clear

Employees who’d rather be outside than in

The Devil’s Cone Shack Den

The air back there is hard to see through

The haze of hot dogs and nacho cheese goo

Sticky and slippery, the floor all wet

But that hasn’t stopped them from serving me yet!

Chorus

I walk up to the window through a blast of hot air

“Hey, what’s cookin’ in there?”

I order my double then change my mind

“A banana split is healthier, right?”

The dude behind the counter gets upset

He hasn’t been trained on the register yet.

So we wait and we wait for the Cone Shack Queen

To return from her lunch out under the trees

Swingin,’ swaggerin’ thru the back door,

She assesses the situation and almost goes for more

Lunch

But she stays and straightens and unruffles and scoops

And hands out freebies and clean nacho goop

And the guys get credit but she gets her liberty

Which is better than a fat check any day of the week.

Chorus

A steady succession of Cone Stand fill-ins

Are trained regularly for the interim

While the real Cone Masters step out to indulge

In cranking finger cracks over a bulge

These fill-ins, these imposters

Start out as babes the Cone Masters must foster

Put thru the paces of the register and restocking

They realize the amount of work to get this place going is shocking!

Occasionally help will be sent from the Food Court

An untrained cashier with whom speaking English is more like a sport

“Yes? No? How do you say?...”

Seems like that’s what I hear all day.

But I’m patient, I explain, I even learn to repeat

“Carbonation is Czech is bublinki?”

Chorus

Colby and Anchen are the Cone Masters

With one in school and one with a Bachelor’s

Working together, they’re just faster

Reunited every Monday, Tuesday and sometimes weekends,

They sweat and scoop and remain good friends

Is this what it takes to make you appreciate the life?

School work ain’t so bad compared to this strife

Where you work and you sweat and you injure your wrist

“All in a day’s work,” your manager grins

I don’t agree. Call the union, call your friends

It’s time to take a stand

This mistreatment of employees has got to end

And we’re starting with the Cone Stand

“Is it really so bad?” You ask

“If only you knew,” I tsk

One hour to prepare, restock and reassess

From the previous day’s disastrous mess

Out of everything, the floor’s not mopped

(You can tell from the ice cream cone outline they dropped)

Wash the windows, collect the rags

Set up your bank, change the trash bags

Answer guest questions like,

“what time does the pool open?”

When the sign’s right there, I could just point to show them

Or they ask, “Where are the Falls? How about the bathroom?”

Holding their knees together and looking wildly about

I get some satisfaction telling them it’s down, around and out.

These people, these tourists, it’s like they left their brains at home while they’re on vacation

They expect me to think for them, to whisper incantations

And save them from themselves and their relations

What’s even better are the folks who forget

About vacation and are just here to vent

Who carry their stress up inside their heads

Until steam comes out their ears

And you hear

“Hurry up! Don’t train now, if I don’t eat I’ll be dead!”

And I say, “Relax, smile, pretend you’re fine,

And remember you’re on vacation, you’re not on company time.”

Chorus

Now the Dream Team’s disbanding

Our lives are expanding

To include TaiJi and school

We’re no longer the Cone Masters at the edge of the pool

Colby’s off, back to Utah

Anchen’s off, to sit Vipassana

This summer in Yosemite’s been a blast

Lots of grumbling, complaints and not enough time off

But we’ll both be back, our hiatus can’t last

Betwixt the walls of Yosemite we can’t get enough.