Flying trapeze
Mar. 24th, 2005 12:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flexagonI can't shake the feeling that I did some really strange drugs and went on a weird trip today, but memory insists that all I did is spend a couple of hours on the Boston Trapeze School with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
apfelsingail and her man-toy, who I will call Jay. Their motto (forget the fear, worry about the addiction) must be about right, because the three of us started talking in the car on the way back about when we can do it again, again, again. :)
The trapeze school is just inside the entrance of the huge Jordan'sfurniture store surreal kiddie land near Reading. Beside it is a jelly bean store, which I guess explains why the floor is tiled with photographic prints of jelly beans and there are huge statues made of jelly beans all around. There's also an organic ice cream store and--viewable from the platform--a water-and-lights show called Liquid Fireworks. On one wall is a huge animated uh, decoration, of a big green moster repeatedly eating a baseball player. It's a strange place, all right. And you think this even before you find yourself leaning over the edge of a 23-foot platform, held up only by someone's hand on your safety harness (and your death grip on the trapeze and the safety lines on your harness) and you're about to plunge to your death in the net below.
Just for fun I'll describe the basic trick we spent the first hour learning how to do:
1) Lean out as described. When they say "hup" you give just a teeny hop, bring your feet together and (despite your instincts and best intentions!) out you swing.
2) At the far end (again at their prompt--in fact, they talk you through all of these moves) you bring your feet to the bar between your hands and (now starting to swing back) over the bar so the bar is behind your knees.
3) Back at the platform end, you let go with your hands. As you swing out once more, you arch backwards with hands outstretched and look look look at the other trapeze where the catcher would be if there was one.
4) There is no catcher, so--hands go back on the bar and you bring your legs down and swing back to the platform end.
5) On your next swing out, you bring your legs forward, back, forward!, and on that last forward swing you let go, hug your knees, and do a double back somersault down to the net. (No, I'm not kidding. Yes, they had us try this the very first time.)
We did that six times, and although it took a time or two before I could let go of the bar for the somersault, we were all doing pretty damn well for a first time. So they put a catcher up in the other trapeze. Embarrassingly, I got an instant crush on said catcher. I think it was the fact that I knew I could (or rather, had to) trust this person to snatch me out of thin air and singlehandedly save me from certain death--but then maybe it was just the funky blue tights. Hard to say, but either way there was no not feeling it, so I just had to deal. And then, well, he caught us! Catching works like this: the catcher calls the "hup", and at the end of step 3 both you and the catcher hover for hours at the end of your respective pendulums before he finally grabs your wrists and says "gotcha". Then in a tremendously satisfying move you grab his wrists, straighten your legs and go for a long, long swing on the other trapeze. Way way back. And then way way forward. Finally you pike, let go and simply fall on your butt into the net.
I can't explain why the catching part was so great. Maybe just because it's a longer swing overall, or maybe because of the teamwork aspect. I just know that the second and last time I was caught, I arched and looked up at the catcher during that long swing out, and he was looking down at me. We both grinned and--though I was not thinking crushy thoughts at all anymore by then--it was just a really good moment, one of those moments you probably remember forever. Then we swung back and I messed up the dismount, because life is like that.
We swung twice more after that with no catcher, and all of us tried to learn a different trick. Apfel and I did an upside-down pike thing called a set whip that neither of us could really do the dismount for, and Jay did a thing called a plunge. All of us felt like we did well (the teachers agreed, actually using the word phenomenal once), not through any great virtue but just by being in decent shape already. And it was good. Good to feel the fear and do it anyway, good to be with friends, great to be caught and to fall squeaking to the net, grand to swing high and look at the water show. Hell, I didn't even mess up my hands on the bar like I thought I would. The backs of my knees hurt now, but it's a small price. So happy 26th birthday,apfelsingail, I sure had a good day. :)
I wrote it up in this much detail so I could remember, but also because I want to do it again and I'd love to take some of you with me. HLM couldn't make it today and neither could RC, and I think that of those who will read this,bluechromis at the very least would love it as much as I did. So who's in for next time?
apfelsingail and her man-toy, who I will call Jay. Their motto (forget the fear, worry about the addiction) must be about right, because the three of us started talking in the car on the way back about when we can do it again, again, again. :)The trapeze school is just inside the entrance of the huge Jordan's
Just for fun I'll describe the basic trick we spent the first hour learning how to do:
1) Lean out as described. When they say "hup" you give just a teeny hop, bring your feet together and (despite your instincts and best intentions!) out you swing.
2) At the far end (again at their prompt--in fact, they talk you through all of these moves) you bring your feet to the bar between your hands and (now starting to swing back) over the bar so the bar is behind your knees.
3) Back at the platform end, you let go with your hands. As you swing out once more, you arch backwards with hands outstretched and look look look at the other trapeze where the catcher would be if there was one.
4) There is no catcher, so--hands go back on the bar and you bring your legs down and swing back to the platform end.
5) On your next swing out, you bring your legs forward, back, forward!, and on that last forward swing you let go, hug your knees, and do a double back somersault down to the net. (No, I'm not kidding. Yes, they had us try this the very first time.)
We did that six times, and although it took a time or two before I could let go of the bar for the somersault, we were all doing pretty damn well for a first time. So they put a catcher up in the other trapeze. Embarrassingly, I got an instant crush on said catcher. I think it was the fact that I knew I could (or rather, had to) trust this person to snatch me out of thin air and singlehandedly save me from certain death--but then maybe it was just the funky blue tights. Hard to say, but either way there was no not feeling it, so I just had to deal. And then, well, he caught us! Catching works like this: the catcher calls the "hup", and at the end of step 3 both you and the catcher hover for hours at the end of your respective pendulums before he finally grabs your wrists and says "gotcha". Then in a tremendously satisfying move you grab his wrists, straighten your legs and go for a long, long swing on the other trapeze. Way way back. And then way way forward. Finally you pike, let go and simply fall on your butt into the net.
I can't explain why the catching part was so great. Maybe just because it's a longer swing overall, or maybe because of the teamwork aspect. I just know that the second and last time I was caught, I arched and looked up at the catcher during that long swing out, and he was looking down at me. We both grinned and--though I was not thinking crushy thoughts at all anymore by then--it was just a really good moment, one of those moments you probably remember forever. Then we swung back and I messed up the dismount, because life is like that.
We swung twice more after that with no catcher, and all of us tried to learn a different trick. Apfel and I did an upside-down pike thing called a set whip that neither of us could really do the dismount for, and Jay did a thing called a plunge. All of us felt like we did well (the teachers agreed, actually using the word phenomenal once), not through any great virtue but just by being in decent shape already. And it was good. Good to feel the fear and do it anyway, good to be with friends, great to be caught and to fall squeaking to the net, grand to swing high and look at the water show. Hell, I didn't even mess up my hands on the bar like I thought I would. The backs of my knees hurt now, but it's a small price. So happy 26th birthday,
apfelsingail, I sure had a good day. :)I wrote it up in this much detail so I could remember, but also because I want to do it again and I'd love to take some of you with me. HLM couldn't make it today and neither could RC, and I think that of those who will read this,
bluechromis at the very least would love it as much as I did. So who's in for next time?
no subject
Date: 2006-07-18 07:54 pm (UTC)I didn't do it again, but would totally go if anyone (which could be me) puts together a trip. Barriers so far have been a) memories of behind-the-knee bruises, b) the need to dig a car up from between the couch cushions to get there and c) now apfelsingail is in Georgia.
Did you find my email address? Two easy options:
myfirstname dot mylastname at gmail dot com
smallcreaturethatplungesovercliffs at alum dot mit dot edu
no subject
Date: 2006-07-18 08:00 pm (UTC)usually women learn a split while men learn a plange. oh, trapeze sexism. but i must say i find planges REALLY HARD. i don't know if i ever got one, even after blazing on to much harder tricks. i'm not saying that's because i'm a girl. i'm just saying i don't mind not being expected to do them.
and thank you for the email options. i am slowly building a web address book now that my computer's in a coma.