all words: Seaton Smith (catch him next @ Family Hemerlein on Nov. 30th)
all photos: Kimberly Cadena

..... Or I get to ride a fucking trapeze!

“Fuck yeah I’ll take a trapeze lesson.” I say to Jeff when he calls me about doing the story. And I mean it. I’m not scared. There’s a net, with a rope harness around your waist. And a dude up there to talk you through it, and another person on the ground to talk you through. And God, there’s God to consider in this too. I’m good!

We walk in the building. I’m with Kimberly Cadena to take pictures, and she wants to swing too, cool. I meet Aaron and Mandy, our two instructors, and they immediately have us sign waivers. Still not worried. There are a bunch of dumb people who do dumb things up there. I’m an athlete. These waivers are for fat people who like to sue.

Aaron talks us through our initial training. He has that kind of soft voice that would be great in a cult, you know, when they are convincing you that this punch will send us all to the alien space ship. It’s a great voice. Comforting. Yeah I’ll take the punch. Let’s go to space.

He shows us the position we should be in when he jump, “We don’t say ‘go’ cause it sounds too much like ‘no’. So we say ‘hep.’” Which to me just sounds crazy, but I nod as much as I can cause I just want to hurry up and get up there. It’s a fucking trapeze. I want to be a trapeze man.

I ask him how young you have to be to start. Aaron says, “Well I started at 28.” Oh snap, I’m 28! I’m bout to be a trapeze expert. It will be my main exercise. Oh my god I’m going to be so cool. But, okay, how many times a week should I do this in order for me to be in shape?

This is when Mandy steps in to answer, which I’m happy with, cause she has the type of arms that says, “I can rip your face off!” She thinks for a moment and says, “Well students who see changes in their body usually come about once a week.”

It’s decided. I’m in. I’m signing up. Regular students can make it for $50 a class. That’s like a gym membership!

Now I’m thinking about that scene in Aladdin where he took princess Jasmine on a magic carpet ride and sang “A whole new world” and then had cartoon sex. They didn’t show it but it happened! Now close you’re eyes and imagine that happening on a trapeze! And me! Don’t you dare close your eyes!

It’s my turn. Before I go climb up Mandy has me go through the instructions again, “We’re going through it again cause you’re not going to hear us the same up there.” Meaning we’re going to be too freaked out to hear anything. Well I hate to break it to you bucko, but I’m gonna be the next trapeze man of this town and I have no problems with little shit like freaking out. I get on stage for a living.

Of course things falls apart.

I’m climbing the ladder. Hmm. I have a safety line attached to a belt I have to wear. But the latter gives when I climb. Like bends and shakes. I didn’t notice it with other people. I look around to see if anyone else notices that this latter I flapping around a bit. Mandy says to me, “It’s not flimsy, it’s fiberglass, it gives.” Hmmm. I’m not a fan of ladders that give, it seems to defeat the purpose. I’m not saying it’s making me nervous. I’m fine. Just saying. Get a wood latter!

I’m at the top. Finally. Let’s jump! I look down. And around.

I’m taking a couple deep breaths, cause I’m starting to realize this isn’t as cool and easy as it was when I was parking my car. I suddenly realize the depth of the situation here. I actually have to jump off this high ass platform. Oh god. Aaron’s poison punch voice lingers around me as he clips on the other safety harness, the one that will make sure I won’t break my neck on the trapeze. “Okay you want to put you toes to the edge and….”

I’m not listening. Not much. I’m looking at the net. I’m realizing it doesn’t look as comforting as before. On the ground it looks like a fun big sized hammock. From up top it looks like a plan for safety that’s not that well thought out. Like someone said, “Bring a net just in case, I’m sure we won’t need it, so it doesn’t have to work really.”

Aaron tells me to lean over the ledge and he’ll hold me as I grab the bar. Why can’t I just grab the bar away from the edge of the platform? No reason to be so anxious. Let’s just ease into this. I’m a virgin here. You don’t just put a virgin in a hardcore porn!

So I’m leaning. I’m completely conscious of Aaron’s hand on my belt. I’m completely conscious of the bar that is in my hand. I’m completely conscious of the net on the ground. I’m completely conscious of the ground below the net. “Ready. HEP!” I go.

OH MY FUCKING GOD I’M GOING REALLY FAST TOWARD THE GROUND!

But then I swing up at the end, and for a moment everything is okay. Mandy is screaming something, but can’t understand her. I don’t care. I’m fine. I’m at the top. But then I’m going back down.

OH MY FUCKING GOD I’M GOING REALLY FAST BACKWARDS TOWARD THE GROUND!

Why is the second part scarier than the first part? I’m swinging now. I think I hear what Mandy is saying, “Feet up.” Meaning put my legs over the bar and swing. I try. But I have no flexibility. After I’ve lost all momentum they mercifully tell me to let go and fall into the net. Which doesn’t break, it catches me. I roll off. And I mumble an apology. I feel the need to apologize to my future trapeze crew. Can’t be the weak link.

Mandy is supportive, “It was your first time. You did great.”

Aaron, “You did great.”

Kimberly takes a picture, “I can do better.”

Kimberly sucks. Then she takes the platform and swings like she’s tinkerbell. Graceful as shit. I go to congratulate her, she looks at me and says, “I’m really athletic.” I pray for her to die in a tragic way. I look at the ground.

Mandy calls for my turn. “Alright time for you to fly.” They call swinging flying, which is cool. I’m determined to make this second time better. I’m going to fly like a goddamn monkey. So well that if a Klansmen walked in and saw me up there giggling he would say, “Yep, I knew it.” I will be that good.

I get to the top of the platform again. Aaron happily says, “You came back!” I look at him, “Do people not come back?” He says, “Sometimes.” Now I’m freaked again. I’m trying to breath. I’m actually more freaked than the first time, cause in my head I’m already in the air. I’m already crashing towards the ground forward and backwards at the same time!

“Hep.” I jump. This time I hear Mandy, “Feet up!” I’m trying. But my feet won’t cooperate. Now I’m stuck swinging upside down with my feet tangled in the bar. There’s a certain time of scream that I have in situations like this. It’s like a cat. A highly stressed cat. Like a punk ass cat. I don’t think anyone heard me. But it was there.

I’m back in the net. Scout, the third instructor, a muscle bound dude, who looks more like a man that rides Harleys than a man who flies, tells me that I need to squeeze more.

“I’m trying.” I say. Third time around and my dreams of the being trapeze man are dying. I look up again and Kimberly is doing a triple back flip. I want to do a Nancy Kerrigan on her.

You know what made it worse? The fact that they record the swings! Why? I’m looking at the screen. Though I felt kind of graceful, I looked like I was having a seizure up there. If I didn’t know it was me I would be concerned for the dude who had nappy hair cause he was having a seizure in mid air. Oh god.

I look over at Kimberly, she’s on her Iphone, she’s already gotten a contract offer from Barnum and Bailey. I hate her.

I realize that this would make a great date on paper. You take a girl here you’re telling her that you’re an adventure, that you think of different things. And when she feels that high of swinging from the trapeze she’s definitely going to have sex with you after. Unless you felt like me, who’s arms now are in crippling pain. “I would hold you baby, but can’t lift my arms.”

Fine. Okay. I got something to prove now. I’m up on the platform, for the 5th or 7th (maybe 10th) time. I’m still nervous. Or scared. Whatever you call it I’m it. But like even more than the first time. Cause one time I forget to straighten my arms when I jump which makes me hurt my arms. Then I forget to lift my legs around the pole at the same time, which gets my feet caught in the safety rope. Then, one time, when I do it all perfectly, form and all, I found that when you do the form right you go really really really fast, which is a whole new level of freak out.

How do I explain the freaky? You ever drive and hit a sharp turn, you’re supposed to slow down, cause if you don’t you just feel yourself and the car about to flip over and go into the ditch and/or cliff. Imagine that feeling while hanging upside down on a pole suspended in air, except this is what’s supposed to happen! Not crashing but the curvy turns.

I fall to the net doing a back flip, after finishing up the best round of knees on a bar that a nigga like me can do. Mandy is at the bottom of the net clapping. Aaron smiles widely. Kimberly nods then looks back at her phone, she’s negotiating a deal for a theater in Vegas. As I flip off the net Mandy tells me, “Forget the fear; worry about the addiction.”

Hmm. I like that. And I chalk up my hands and prepare to go back up. I’m addicted. I’m still scared, but I’m coming back. Why? Cause I trapeze man! Suckas!

After two hours of this, we leave. Kimberly and I talk about our sore muscles like it’s a badge of honor. I limp extra on purpose, just so someone can ask me what’s wrong and I can say, “Trapeze training.”

I want to tell everyone.

I’m at the supermarket. I’m buying a jug of water that is painful to carry cause my forearms hurt so much. I’m at the counter, I’m flexing, in a proud trapeze stance, and all I want to tell this girl behind the counter with her microbraids highlight in chicken head red, “Hey, supermarket girl, I was on a trapeze.” Which I find odd, cause I don’t know what exactly I’m looking for in a reaction.

Honestly, if I look in the mirror and really be honest, I know that I want to one day sit across the table in a restaurant with a first date. I want to wait until the third drink, in the middle of the entrée, and I want to mention cardio work. And hopefully she’ll say, “I love working out. What do you do?” Then I’ll take the napkin, wipe my mouth, stand, rip off my pants revealing my striped tights and I’ll say, “I fly.” But in a really creepy whisper, and I’ll look up to the heavens.

Then we’ll have sex. On a trapeze. The one in my house!

Previously in I Heart DC:

• 5/22: DC NEWS YOU CAN (MAYBE) USE...
• 5/21: DC News You Can (Maybe) Use
• 5/21: PHOTOS: Artomatic 2012 Opening
• 5/18: DC NEWS YOU CAN (MAYBE) USE...
• 5/17: DC News You Can (Maybe) Use
• 5/16: D.C. NEWS YOU CAN (MAYBE) USE...
• 5/16: Photos: Dance In The Circle @ Dupont Circle
• 5/15: DC News You Can (Maybe) Use
• 5/14: D.C. NEWS YOU CAN (MAYBE) USE...
• 5/11: DC News You Can (Maybe) Use