On face value, Mark’s job sucks. While the rest of the world rides the waves, catches the rays, Mark trudges through the hot sand, heavy cooler strapped to his shoulder. He rings his bell and shouts, “ice cream, ices, frozen whatever”. The rhythm is trudge, trudge, ring his bell then advertise his wares. He scoops up the hot nickels, quarters and limp dollar bills from crazed kids coated in sand and dispenses change all while scanning the crowd for the next customer. He’s come to hate summer, though his killer suntan, which fades by November, would suggest otherwise. And while his bank account keeps him afloat through New Year’s, Mark’s philosophy in regards to his job, one that put an emphasis on getting by, is failing him. To make matters worse, his new girlfriend, whom he flirted with all summer, wants her cool new boyfriend to drag her into the ocean while she screams noooooo. Mark senses the need for a radical change. He checks the want ads and Craig’s List periodically. And when nothing shows up, he gets a faux hawk, bleaches his hair and buys a hot dog cart. Feeling like master of the universe, or at least of his domain, Mark can be found on the corner of 5^th and 8^th scooping up change and complaining about the cold.