Writer Sprout

Monday, October 29, 2007

Interesting drug

It's me.

Yeah, so on Friday I joined Bilzer & his agile beau at this place for some good ol' fashioned trapeze artistry. Ever since learning that K is a regular, I've wanted to give it a go, and I finally did. It was Billy's first time, too, which was nice. Not that I was all that nervous going into the evening; honestly, my ego was a little inflated. "Trapezing? What a hoot! A surefire rollicking good time." Not so fast. Getting up on that board--the mere process of climbing the stairs--proved almost more than I could handle. It was like summer camp ropes course fright all over again. And Billy and I were in total agreement here. Fortunately, we were also on the same page w/ the whole pride thing (blubbering fools we are not!), which enabled us to clear that last rung. And inch slowly toward the center of the platform. And detach ourselves from the metal safety that had followed us up the ladder. And reach a shaky right arm out toward the bar as it drew closer. And, one hand now on bar, respond to the intructor's cue to bend our knees and tuck our butt in as we reached ol' leftie out (while she "held tight" to the backs of our belts), again toward the bar. And--oh my god, so horrified at the thought of letting that last hand go of the ladder! (scariest part)--grabbing said bar. Still in agreement, the second-scariest part was standing on that board, in position and ready to fly, awaiting the instructor's cue ("hep!") that would, hopefully, compel us to take a small jump down. B ended up nailing this part on his first attempt; I did not. Apparently--and I remember this only vaguely*--I sortof just fell off.** This didn't give me much momentum, but hell, first try. And whoa. Once you're airborne (I swear I had no impression of the safety harness on me--it all felt so free and chancy!), you feel kindof insane. In the best possible way. And then, at the top of that first outward swing, when the instructor barks "legs up" you sortof just do it,*** even though you only practiced hanging in this position once pre-jump. (A half dozen swings later, the backs of your knees will be stingy and raw, your hands red and blistered, but you won't feel any of this while you're up there. You're flying! There's wind! Whoa.) Yeah, so your legs are up, but your hands are still on the bar. Until the instructor gives you a "hands off!" at which point, well, off they go and you're upside down and laughing like the crazymonkey you've reverted to. A few seconds later comes "hands up (on?)/legs down!" followed by a disappointing "now let go and land on your butt!" (or something like it) and you wonder why you can't just keep on swinging, like you imagine your monkey-son swings from the doorframes when you're not around, albeit w/ less spontaneity.

W/ each flight, I/we improved, save some minor regressions along the way. My most enduring problem seemed to be responding to cues in a timely fashion. Apparently I would react a second slow, and w/ such consistency early on that the instructor temporarily delayed my cues in order to match my established pattern. But I got better, and I nailed my last turn, which felt really satisfying.

Let's see... So the last half hour (two hour-long session) was spent 'catching'--or, in our novice-cases, 'being caught.' I actually considering passing on this part, but in the end, that pride thing won out and I just went. So did B. And yikes, we did really well! B nailed it straight away, while I took a 'warm-up turn' before hitting the mark. This is basically how it works: A very learned person (last pic) swings back and forth on a bar that hangs several feet in front of and above your own. The same cues are given, though this time they come from the swinging person (the catcher) rather than from the instructor on the ground. Oh, and you never return hands to bar and legs to downward position--your legs stay curled around the bar, w/ back arched, arms stretched long, and eyes pointing up/back toward the catcher, who's also by now mid-flight and almost ready to grab you. Thing is, w/ catching, timing is everything; if you're the splittiest of split seconds late (ahem, my first turn), the catcher will reach out for a pair of arms (yours) that are too slow to arrive and you'll swing back toward the platform clutching nothing save your deepest regrets. Ouch. Anyway, I was late the first time, resulting in an awkward and desperate clashing of limbs, but I got it together my second (and final) time, and when I looked up and first spied the catcher's freckled, outstretched arms, I knew it was gonna work. My arms landed easily in her hands, and off the bar I flew, swinging to a nice, clean finish. In the minutes that followed, I was hit w/ a sense of gratitude, which almost choked me up. I don't know, I found it sweet, moving, that someone would take that kind of risk (catchers don't wear a harness), and repeatedly, so that others might experience the resulting rush. My emotion could also, I suppose, be wrapped up in the concept of being 'looked after,' which often feels poignant, sweet.

In sum: Hooked! B and are planning to go back on a monthly basis. (They teach tightrope walking, even! If only it were all a smidge cheaper.)

Billybird.

Our catcher.

*B and I were talking a few days ago about this, about how strangely our memories acted post-swings. It was like we would remember being up there, remember moving physically through the air, but had vaguer recollection when it came to specifics. Our brains seemed, to a degree, to shut down once we set ourselves in motion, and it was only w/ significant effort that I was able to reproduce, in writing, a detailed account of the experience. The cues, the sequence... Easily jumbled, post-fact.

**I don't know, according to K, many a first-timer never even clears the board.

***Physics can be your friend! So long as your timing's right, positional shifts are naturally given assistance.