Being Patrick

"I'm ready," I announce.

Lovejoy glares. "It's going to take time to train you," she notes. "Not to mention fitting you in the suit."

Do we get lunch? I ask.

"Forty-five minutes," says Lovejoy. "But then it's back on the clock."

11:30 a.m. New-character boot camp. But today I'm the only inductee. Before learning the ropes, I limber up with some shin-touching and as many push-ups as I can do: nearly five. "A lot of this job has to do with endurance," says Amy Vest, who's in charge of characters and training and eyes me skeptically. "So we get mostly high school kids. It's tough. You'll have to crouch, you'll do a lot of hugging, and you'll dance, sometimes for as long as a mile. One time, during our parade, Patrick had an asthma issue and had to be brought back in."

12:10 p.m. After assuring Vest I don't need an inhaler, I am introduced to my gear in one of the park's top-secret suiting-up shacks. Vest refers to it as the Green Room. Visitors are strictly prohibited, and I can see why. It is crammed with disembodied character heads and hanging torsos.

"They just got washed," says Vest about the torsos. "That's why they don't have arms yet."

A sign on the wall says:

IS IT LAUNDRY DAY? THEN MAKE SURE YOU LEAVE THESE THINGS IN THE SHACK:

*SCOOBY'S HEAD

*SCOOBY'S BELT

*SCOOBY'S TAIL