Adventure School #1: The Flying Trapeze

Now, it’s pretty typical to wonder what kind of person would be a flying trapeze instructor. And, before getting there, my fantasy-driven mind conjured up images of both eccentric, carnie-esque circus folk and a Ukrainian family outfit who spoke in wild hand gestures and broken English taking themselves way too seriously while clad in matching leotards (an outfit invented by Jules Leotard who also invented the art of flying trapeze) with lightning bolts down the legs. But, logic prevailed. They were all normal, healthy-looking, athletic types hovering around the age of 30, which was lucky for us because I can’t imagine those other options being that safe.

After the short stretching session we walked over to a low practice bar to get the basics down, basics that included hanging upside down, hand positions, how not to land on your head, which is apparently still a bad thing even in a net, and plenty of trapeze terminology (like use ‘hep’ as an action word instead of go). I don’t think ‘bro’ is part of the official terminology, but from the way it was tacked on to the beginning and end of every sentence, it definitely deserves a mention. He even explained how easy it was to do a back flip from the bar into the net below.

When the nice man with dreds asked who wanted to step up and learn the moves on the practice bar first, I reluctantly deferred to another saying, “You can go first. I don’t mind.” Because that’s just the kind of guy I am. I took the middle spot, a safe bet when trying something new, ensuring that I’d be better at it than the person before me without having to be last. I still ended up feeling like a little bit of a fool though when the guy put his hands on my hips to help me up to the bar with a “1, 2, 3, hep” and then a struggle, struggle to get my legs latched over the bar. Nevertheless, we all graduated to the actual trapeze 30 feet or so in the air. Once again, I took the middle spot. After a brief lecture about listening to the commands from the person on the ground, the first girl went with a fair amount of poise. She swung out, wrapped her legs over the bar for a knee hang, transitioned back to a standard hang, and then did a back flip from the bar into the net. Holy crap! That looked like fun, and way too easy. So, I rushed up the tightly-runged ladder, completely ignoring my slight acrophobia, and stepped out onto the platform. The same guy who taught us the basics on the practice bar was on the platform waiting when I got up there. He clipped a safety line onto a massive belt they strapped around my waist, I dug my fingers into a bag full of powdery chalk and smoothed it around on my bare hands, and he went through all of the important things I needed to remember when flying on a trapeze. It was too bad that I wasn’t listening to him anymore. I was too busy running through all of the awesome tricks I would be doing in my head. But, I did hear him remind me to lean back, let go of the bar and slap my knee to do a back flip. Okay, okay, I was ready. I stepped to the edge and reached out to grab the bar as he pulled back on my belt to balance me while I teetered on the edge of the board. I bent my knees, waited for the “hep” and then hopped off the platform and into circus history. I swung out, pushing my legs forwards like gaining momentum on a swing set, and then remembered I needed to wrap my legs over the bar. It was spastic and far from fluent, but I eventually got them hooked on the bar. But, on the dismount I got my leg tangled in my safety line and needless to say there was no back flip, just a dead fall.

On the very next try I nailed it, back flip and all. From then on out I was hooked. I couldn’t stop. I was up the ladder, tip of the platform, reaching for the bar, swinging out, knee-hanging, back fliping, taa-daa over and over again. Then, the very Spartan looking guy with zero body fat who had just finished talking about how what we were doing was like ballet said, “Let’s try a catch!” By the time that came up, I had reached the apex of physical ability of the day, and I responded with a “hell yes! But…” I showed them my hands which were about ready to pack it in for the day. Underneath all the chalk my hands were an angry red, and I could see my skin tearing around fresh blisters. One of the instructors saw this and quickly snapped back, “No problem. Hold on.” He pulled out some athletic tape and quickly fashioned some makeshift handguards. “Are you kidding me? You mean if I had said something earlier I’d have spared myself some undeserved palm pain? Oh well. I guess I’ll have time to bleed when I’m not flying and flipping through the air.”

With my hands all wrapped up and good to go I scrambled up the narrow ladder, chalked up, stepped to the edge, reached for the bar, leaped off, hooked my legs over the bar hocks-off style, and reached out for the catch. “Smack!” We made contact. My hands and his were locked and I released my legs from the bar. I clung tight to his forearms as I swung out below him with a huge grin on my blood red face. When we swung back toward the bar I had just leaped from, I pushed up off of his hands and jerked around to try to grasp the bar I just left, but only caught air. Either way, I fell into the net like a 215lb 8-year-old, happy as hell and eager to run back up once my arms stopped feeling like two bowls of jello.

Although I was the first one in our group to make a successful catch, the others pulled it off as well, and with a touch more style than myself. We all cycled through a few more times before our aching muscles and raw skin got the better of us. We left the crew with hugs and a promise that we’d do whatever we could to spread the word and help fill classes until they leave. So, here’s me doing my part. It was unique and fun and well worth the bruises and blisters that followed. After all, what use is this regenerating flesh suit if you don’t put some mileage on it? I, for one, would rather leave this world with a body covered in scars, mistakes and stories of adventure than depart still sporting that new car scent.

So, if learning to fly on a trapeze is something you think you might be into, you’d better step up because this traveling troupe of wish granters departs from South Austin for New York on June 7th, and they won’t be back around these parts until September. Go here to find out how.