The other day I was talking to someone about my recent–and scary–misadventures in the ocean, which led him to tell me about a time he did night jumping, which is when you skydive into in the ocean at night. He?d been skydiving before, and is a good swimmer, and figured, how hard could this be? Well, after jumping from the plan he misjudged the distance to the water, and opened his shoot too late. As a result, when he hit the water, the shoot fell right on top of him?he got all tangled up in thThe other day I was talking to someone about my recent–and scary–misadventures in the ocean, which led him to tell me about a time he did night jumping, which is when you skydive into in the ocean at night. He?d been skydiving before, and is a good swimmer, and figured, how hard could this be? Well, after jumping from the plan he misjudged the distance to the water, and opened his shoot too late. As a result, when he hit the water, the shoot fell right on top of him?he got all tangled up in the shoot while in the ocean–and for a minute or two, he felt like he was in big trouble.
Big. Trouble.
He wound up making it okay, but still …
Have you ever gone skydiving? Bungee jumping? Hang gliding?
Not me. I really, really want to?it seems to cool?but I?m so totally scared s—less about it. I?ll just never do it.
You could sell me on the idea of skydiving. You could probably get me up in the plane. You could even get me to wear the gear, strap a parachute on my back, and even stand just a few feet from the open plane door as it soars across the sky at 10,000 feet.
But get me a few inches closer and I?ll be like one of those cats in the cartoon, with arms stretched out, digging my fingers through the steel. You would literally have to rip my arms off and shove me out of the plane, and it would probably take three or four of you to do it.
It?s just this crazy thing I have about heights. Now, I?m not sure if I have vertigo, per se, but [i]man[/i] they freak me out. I refuse to stand up against a window in a tall building, and good luck getting me in one of those big drop roller coasters.
My wife? She loves that stuff. But me? Uh … no.
A few years ago I was with a friend who was visiting from the UK, and he wanted do the tourist thing, so after dinner we went up to the observation deck of the Empire State Building. It was night, and a little windy, but as long as I had my back flat up against the wall, I was sort of okay. But then my buddy starts talking about this sci-fi book he read once where there are mile-high buildings, and wouldn?t it be crazy if one toppled over?
That was so totally not the thing I needed hear just then, because I started to black out, feeling like I was physically plummeting off the building to my death. That?s how bad it gets for me. I really just start to lose it. And I don?t know why. I?ve always been that way. Maybe it?s just one of those things, maybe some crazy hypno-therapy would cure me. I don?t know.
I really wish that I was a skydiving, bungee-jumping, roller coaster kind of guy. But I?m just not.
Maybe that’s why I write. To work out all the goofy stuff that keeps me from experiencing all there is. Guess I better get to it …
