The nopeness, it burns.
Don’t get me wrong. I ain’t no shrinking violet. I’ve been skydiving, for instance. And by skydiving, I mean I’ve jumped out of a perfectly good airplane. It wasn’t even on fire or anything. I just jumped right out, on purpose.
I’m not talking about the kind of skydiving excursions that have become popular lately, either. You know the kind I’m referring to. You get buckled to a skydiver’s shirt, and he jumps out of a plane. He pulls the chute. He steers, and he lands. You’re like an overgrown papoose. Not that kind.
See, this video is way, way worse than skydiving. When you jump out of a plane, the ground looks like grandma’s quilt. There’s a pleasant rush of air, like leaving the window open on the highway. The ground is getting closer, it’s true, but it’s so far away that it seems like you’re just hanging there. Once you pull your chute, it’s pretty leisurely, almost tedious to float down the rest of the way.
Going off a cliff on a slip and slide isn’t like skydiving. It’s more like walking right in front of a bus and hoping it will brake before you become a hood ornament. Nope. Nope. Nope.