I'm pretty sure the Mr. Frosty ice cream truck sells more than just ice cream. Maybe it's just a hunch, I can't say for sure, but either West Philadelphians really love their frozen treats or something pretty shady is going on in our streets.
What I can tell you is that I've been to Clark Park after dark. And though you might expect an ice cream vendor to be there during the day, you would probably be surprised to hear me say that I've seen one there at 2 a.m.
If his truck had just been parked, I wouldn't have thought twice, but in fact he was open for business, as was evidenced by his lights. And furthermore, as the truck began to move, it even played a tune -- "Pop Goes the Weasel" -- under the dim light of the moon.
And though this song is usually reserved for children, there were no little ones in sight. What ice cream truck would ever expect to find kids in a park this late at night?
Regardless, the truck continued on its way, "all around the mulberry bush," one might say. And, instead of catering to children, it seemed to be serving adults at play.
Now while it's true that grown-ups also eat ice cream, it would seem that something else was happening. Call me crazy, but I did not trust that man, selling "ice cream" in the a.m.
It was late, and I was tired. And it's possible that my imagination had run wild. So I made a resolution not to further investigate, but perhaps to return for a stakeout on a later date.
Time went by, and I forgot about Popsicles, mulberries and the weasels in the dark and that the Amish aren't the only ones selling goodies in Clark Park.
That is, until Mr. Frosty woke me up one night.
I had just fallen asleep, right before the truck drove down my street. And no sooner had I drifted off to bed than that rascally weasel "popped" into my head.
He was chased by a monkey, but unlike the monkey, I did not think "'twas all in good fun."
Wanting to pop the weasel myself, I opened my window and began yelling that this was not the time for ice cream selling. "It's cold out and the kids are asleep, Mr. Weasel!" But that didn't matter to the refrigerated vehicle.
And just to ensure that I was indeed sober, I asked one of my roommates if he, too, really heard an ice cream truck go by late at night in October.
Confirming that I was in fact not delirious, I concluded that this latest development further supported my hypothesis: Mr. Frosty looked to be selling more than just ice cream.
Though I was a little leery, I decided that I would test my theory. The next time he rolled down my street, I would ask him for his special treat.
Sure enough, one afternoon I heard Mr. Frosty's garish tune. I grabbed some cash and made a dash for the door, excited to find out what he had in store. When I found him, I thought I was in luck; three men in their mid-30s were standing alongside his truck.
Cautiously, I approached the line, wondering what it was I might find. But as soon as I walked over, the vendor whispered some words and pointed over his shoulder. The group suddenly dispersed and fled, though I have no idea what he said. And before I could ask for my special treat, the vendor jumped into the driver's seat and hightailed it down my street!
Suddenly, I was the monkey chasing that weasel.
Unfortunately, I'm sad to say that Mr. Frosty got away. I suppose it's possible that this detective work could be a little bit too much for me. Perhaps one day someone else will tell us what it is Mr. Frosty is trying to sell us.
In the meantime, I suggest that we beware of parks in the dark and treats on the street ... and children with unusual penchants for Popsicles.
Andrew Rennekamp is a first-year Biomedical Ph.D. student from East Stroudsburg, Pa. Any Ice Today Lady? appears on Tuesdays.
