Flying trapeze

I 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 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 furniture 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: ( swingy fun. )

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. ( Confession... )

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?