DON'T LOOK DOWN DAKTARI
LYDIA WITH TRAINER JACK
JACK UNBOLTS EMMA FROM THE SAFETY ROPES
DAKTARI FLIES AGAIN!Some years ago (I think it was the late Pleistocene but I’m not really sure) the primates who inhabit our current planet descended to the savannah from their ancestral trees and stopped swinging through them. Except, that is, for a very few fearless latter day apes who have refused to totally abandon the ancient art of brachiation.
I am referring, of course, to the New York Trapeze School with ‘branches’ in the Big Apple, the City of the Angels and Beantown. (And for some unknown reason the city of Baltimore – go figure.). Here, for just $25 American, humans can re-engage their inner Tarzan and experience the thrilling flights of our ancestral hominids.
I did exactly that last Sunday at NY Trapeze School Beantown. The trapeze school is in an over-the-top furniture store called Jordan’s at exit 39 in suburban Reading right on route 128. Jordan’s also features an IMAX theater, an indoor ice cream parlor, a jelly bean store, an extravaganza popcorn machine and a laser lighted musical fountain that fires off every 30 minutes. And that’s just in the lobby! They keep the furniture cleverly hidden in the back where it won’t distract the customers!!!
For this adventure, I am joined by 11 year old Lydia Peacock, her Dad and Lydia’s 11 year old friend Emma. Lydia, Emma and I suit up while Daddy Peacock signs waivers to the effect that in case his charges should break their tween-age necks the establishment will be held blameless. Unlike the instigator who will be blamed endlessly. (That would be me.)
“Damn your lawyers and full speed ahead,” cry I.
Mr. Peacock takes up position in the ice-cream parlor with the camera. The three remaining specimens of Homo sapiens sapiens are belted into safety harnesses whose eye-bolts are attached to ropes held by Trainer Jack on the ground. That way our trainer can slow our rate of descent to way below the speed of gravity should we, as they say, ‘auger in’.
We climb up three flights of industrial stairs – the see-through metal grid kind - while adrenaline begins to flood the higher centers. Being a gentleman, I allow all the younger flyers to go first. If they can do it, so can I. The youngest flyer is about 5 years old and short for his age. Unfortunately Evan is not able to reach the trapeze bar even when standing on tiptoes. Evan ignominiously departs from the platform with one of the staff. Nice try kiddo!
Next it’s Lydia and Emma’s turn. They perform flawlessly. Eleven is definitely the right age for this adventure.
Now it’s my turn. The thrill of my first swing can’t really be described. It’s just too much all at once. Here are the stages of the experience as best I remember:
1. First Stage: “Just put your toes at the very edge,” says the attendant. “I think my toes are at the edge,” I reply. Silly me. By the time Dan has positioned me to his satisfaction my metatarsals are dangling in the breeze.
2. Second Stage: “Don’t look down,” Dan says. I immediately look down and just as immediately recoil. Geezus that’s a long way down. The net looks about as wide as the backside of a beachgoer’s bikini on a hot day in Rio.
3. Third Stage: “Lean out and grasp the trapeze bar with both hands,” instructs Dan. The tips of my toes curl backwards trying to crawl to the platform through the front of my ankles. Somehow I manage to get my right hand on the trapeze and then my left.
4. Fourth Stage: “Don’t bend from the waist. Just lean straight forward,” Dan instructs. “You’ve got to be kidding!” I think. “ I know physics. That will put my center of gravity directly over – well to put it bluntly, absolutely nothing.” I note fierce growls of protest from the pit of my stomach as I assume the position of a 2x4 suspended over the void.
5. Fourth Stage: “When I say ‘hep’ take a small hop and you’ll be airborne,” exhorts Dan the Man. (‘Hep’ is trapeze lingo for “jump, you fool, jump!”). Dan sez, “Hep”. My brain says, “Hop.” My feet go on strike. They maintain their precarious perch on terra firma without any discernible upward motion. “Hmmm- that’s interesting,” I think. “Never before have my feet told my brain what to do!” Dan heps a few more times. I close my eyes and hop about an inch.
6. Fifth Stage: Woweeeee! I’m in the air swinging back and forth. Amazing. After a few swings, the trainer on the ground yells for me to let go. I kick hard, grab my knees and land on my back like an upside down cockroach. Not bad for a first attempt.
7. The Dismount – This is a counter-intuitive maneuver. I put my bellybutton on the edge of the net, grab the underside of the net by two loops which are about shoulder width apart, and do a front- somersault until my feet touch the ground.
8. The Adrenaline Rush is stupendous. My knees shake and almost buckle as they touch terra firma once again. I stagger off and my head fills with lightness and wonder! I take my pulse – 164 beats per minute.
9. The END – Say it isn’t so! NO WAY – this can’t possibly be the end. Immediately, the strange desire to leap once more seizes my brain by the hippocampus despite the protests of my frontal cortex. THIS IS WICKED FUN!!!! Lucky me – the $25 NY Trapeze school fee is good for two more tries. By the third try I almost nail a backflip and the trainer with the rope lets me accelerate all the way – the full 32 feet per second per second until I smack down in kneeling position. What a rush!
So, the final word to all my primate friends: “Practice your Tarzan yells and rush on down to Jordan’s Furniture ASAP for the thrill of a lifetime. Tell ‘em Daktari sent ya.”
Daktari
P.S. Don’t be surprised if your armpits ache the next day. No pain no gain with this one!
Here are two excellent links:
Trapeze School Videos
Trapeze (God-consciousness of the Great Apes)
