"New York Trapeze School can in no way be held responsible for physical or emotional injuries or death."That is what I agreed to in signing the waiver tonight. That's right...you heard me... trapeze school. Something you should know about me...it's physiologically impossible for me to say no to something that ridiculous, so when my friends suggested we take a lesson, I tried and tried but caved and said yes. Actually, I think I squeaked it.
It has been a constant source of trauma ever since. You see, I'm not what you would call "athletic." (Hey! Stop snickering!) I have many stories about "the last time I did [insert sport here]". Like skiing... when a kid cut me off, I hit a tree, fell backwards, and got my skis stuck perpendicular in 6 inches of fresh packing snow. And couldn't move. And couldn't get my skis off. Or the time I went rollerblading head first. That was good. In fact, the idea of me flying through the air held up by a bar and my own strength filled me with an unholy terror.
But. like I said. Physiologically impossible. Must. Be. Ridiculous.
So, I climbed the ladder to the top of the platform. I curled my toes over the edge, leaned forward, and waited as the instructor brought the bar towards me. Three things happened on that platform.
1) Un-ho-ly-ter-ror. I found myself uttering the prayer, "Heavenly Father, please don't let me die or break an arm. I know it would be all my fault, and I don't want to explain it to Mom."
2) The obnoxious thirteen-year-old in me wanted to do Olympic commentary: "She steps up to the ledge, toes curled, a look of stolid determination on her face. This is it, the moment she has been working for all her life..." and so on. I would have done it, but for the distinct possibility that the instructor might actually push me over the edge.
3) I looked out at the amazing sight that is the city at night. Did I mention that the trapeze place is on a rooftop in Manhattan? You can see a lot of the city from there... and hundreds of cars whizzing by. I was actually overcome for a moment with how beautiful the city is. In that moment, I found myself grateful to live in such an amazing city.
And then I jumped. A swing and a miss. Yep, I'm just as good at trapezing as I am at any other sport. And that is the kind of good that is...well...not. Oh well.
Want to know the funny thing? I was even more freaked out when I hit my foot on a stair in the subway and it drew blood. I was much more concerned about what germs were in there than the idea of jumping off a ledge. Curious.
1 comment:
Dangit, I totally just forgot what I was going to say in my comment. Hmmm...it was likely going to be something snotty yet witty. Oh! It may have been that I thought the first thing that happened up on the platform was particularly funny! :) Oh, and that I wish I could have witnessed the skiing incident. ;)
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