"Now you pass this end over and then under this section of the rope. Do it six or seven times. Pull it tight! You don't want to fall out of your harness!" With a look of terrified resignation on his colorless, chubby face, Jamie S. yanked, and twisted, and tied his rope into the shape of the very uncomfortable harness called a "Swiss seat." The thick, fibrous cord wound around his waist and crotch in an unflattering way, bunching up his shorts and digging into his soft, pudgy thighs. Like bread dough encircled by an elastic band.
From his vantage point atop the rappelling tower, Jamie could see for miles in every direction. I watched him turn his head slowly back and forth and take in the view. He shivered and extended his arms as though to catch his balance. This wasn't going to go well. Robert H. looked skeptically at Jamie's harness. He yanked and pulled on it vigorously, producing grimaces, grunts and a lot of fleshy jiggling from his rotund charge. "All right. Face front. Proceed to the edge!" Jamie remained where he was, eyes big as plates. "To the edge! Let's go!" Robert commanded. Jamie stood rooted to the spot, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead and trickling down the sides of his face. Robert studied the terrified lad for a moment and then said, "You don't have to do this. You can go back down."
"No." Jamie whispered. He took a reluctant step forward. And then another. Each stride seeming to bear a terrible, unseen weight. Robert followed, impatient but morbidly curious. "Come on," he urged, "The others want to try it, too." A single step from the edge of the tower, Jamie halted, eyes squeezed shut. Robert hooked him into the rappelling rope and instructed him on how to maneuver safely down the tower wall. Jamie nodded but his face had taken on a glazed expression. Robert leaned in very close and said, "Oy! You listening to me?!" Jamie stared blankly at Robert. "I dunno', man. You really want to do this?" Jamie nodded his head. "Well, then, step to the edge and turn around."
"T-turn around?" Jamie queried. He glanced down past the tips of his sneakers to the ground a hundred feet below. His legs began to jerk and wobble.
"That's right," Robert replied, "Turn around. You have to face the wall when you rappel down it. Didn't you hear the instructions I just gave you?" He looked over at me. "I don't think this is a good idea. He's way too scared. I don't want him fainting and falling out of his harness."
"I can fall out of the harness?" Jamie squeaked in horror.
"Only if you're upside down," Robert answered, "Don't ever get upside down." He fixed Jamie with an apocalyptic stare and intoned, "You fall out of your harness, you're dead."
To my utter surprise Jamie didn't wet himself, or start wailing hysterically, or madly strip off his harness and take to the stairs. Instead, with a series of tiny, exceedingly careful shuffle-steps, he turned his back to the yawning, hundred-foot void at his feet. His stricken face was evocative of men before the firing squad, or noose, or guillotine. The children waiting on the staircase for their turn to rappel had gone silent, awed by the strange resolve of their corpulent, perspiring comrade. Jamie's hair fluffed and twisted in the breeze; his knees knocked; his eyes bored holes through the rope in his hands.
In the voice of a priest giving last rites, Robert issued his final orders: "Grip the rope in front of you firmly in your left hand. Yes. Hold the rope behind you against the small of your back with your right hand. Okay. Now, yell 'Belay on!' Louder, louder! That's better. Now, lean out away from the edge. No, don't squat down. Lean oouut. Stand up and lean oouut."
It was no good. Jamie had squatted down and there was no standing up again. His terrified legs had betrayed him. But Jamie had a wild, kamikaze look in his eyes. He had aimed his zero at the aircraft carrier and - Banzai! - all would be death and flames! Deaf to the commands of Robert to stop, his knees tucked up to his chin, Jamie began to roll backward off the edge. "No!" Robert yelled. He lunged for the plump boy-sphere but was too late. Jamie rotated from view. Almost immediately a shrill, piercing scream filled the air. A pair of tennis shoes and chubby calves thrust up above the edge of the tower platform and began to kick about. Jamie was upside down!
Robert threw himself down at the edge of the platform and began yelling instructions. "Don't let go of the rope!" A frantic tennis shoe struck him in the face. Holding his nose, Robert bellowed, "You've got to pull yourself up! Pull yourself up!"
"I can't! I caaaannn't!" Jamie squealed. "I can't moooove! Aaaaaah! Aaaaaah! Aaaaaah!"
Amidst exclamations of "Forget this!" and "I don't wanna die!" and "Is this legal?" the entire group of would-be rappellers on the staircase began hastily to descend. "Lower him to the ground!" Robert shouted to the belayer at the bottom of the tower. In about twenty seconds Jamie lay safely on the ground, his Swiss seat tangled about his knees. Tears streamed from his eyes as his body heaved in silent sobs.
"Well, you aren't dead, " Robert observed as he walked up to the prostrate boy. "I told you not to go upside down." Jamie looked up and with snotty sniffles replied, "That was the worst thing ever!"
"Yeah," Robert agreed, "It looked pretty bad." He lay down beside Jamie in the tall waving grass. Neither of them said a word. They just felt the heat of the sun on their skin, and listened to the sighing wind and the chirping birds, and watched the clouds glide by. After several meditative minutes, Robert spoke: "So, you wanna try it again?"
Jamie stood to his feet. "Okay," he said.
From his vantage point atop the rappelling tower, Jamie could see for miles in every direction. I watched him turn his head slowly back and forth and take in the view. He shivered and extended his arms as though to catch his balance. This wasn't going to go well. Robert H. looked skeptically at Jamie's harness. He yanked and pulled on it vigorously, producing grimaces, grunts and a lot of fleshy jiggling from his rotund charge. "All right. Face front. Proceed to the edge!" Jamie remained where he was, eyes big as plates. "To the edge! Let's go!" Robert commanded. Jamie stood rooted to the spot, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead and trickling down the sides of his face. Robert studied the terrified lad for a moment and then said, "You don't have to do this. You can go back down."
"No." Jamie whispered. He took a reluctant step forward. And then another. Each stride seeming to bear a terrible, unseen weight. Robert followed, impatient but morbidly curious. "Come on," he urged, "The others want to try it, too." A single step from the edge of the tower, Jamie halted, eyes squeezed shut. Robert hooked him into the rappelling rope and instructed him on how to maneuver safely down the tower wall. Jamie nodded but his face had taken on a glazed expression. Robert leaned in very close and said, "Oy! You listening to me?!" Jamie stared blankly at Robert. "I dunno', man. You really want to do this?" Jamie nodded his head. "Well, then, step to the edge and turn around."
"T-turn around?" Jamie queried. He glanced down past the tips of his sneakers to the ground a hundred feet below. His legs began to jerk and wobble.
"That's right," Robert replied, "Turn around. You have to face the wall when you rappel down it. Didn't you hear the instructions I just gave you?" He looked over at me. "I don't think this is a good idea. He's way too scared. I don't want him fainting and falling out of his harness."
"I can fall out of the harness?" Jamie squeaked in horror.
"Only if you're upside down," Robert answered, "Don't ever get upside down." He fixed Jamie with an apocalyptic stare and intoned, "You fall out of your harness, you're dead."
To my utter surprise Jamie didn't wet himself, or start wailing hysterically, or madly strip off his harness and take to the stairs. Instead, with a series of tiny, exceedingly careful shuffle-steps, he turned his back to the yawning, hundred-foot void at his feet. His stricken face was evocative of men before the firing squad, or noose, or guillotine. The children waiting on the staircase for their turn to rappel had gone silent, awed by the strange resolve of their corpulent, perspiring comrade. Jamie's hair fluffed and twisted in the breeze; his knees knocked; his eyes bored holes through the rope in his hands.
In the voice of a priest giving last rites, Robert issued his final orders: "Grip the rope in front of you firmly in your left hand. Yes. Hold the rope behind you against the small of your back with your right hand. Okay. Now, yell 'Belay on!' Louder, louder! That's better. Now, lean out away from the edge. No, don't squat down. Lean oouut. Stand up and lean oouut."
It was no good. Jamie had squatted down and there was no standing up again. His terrified legs had betrayed him. But Jamie had a wild, kamikaze look in his eyes. He had aimed his zero at the aircraft carrier and - Banzai! - all would be death and flames! Deaf to the commands of Robert to stop, his knees tucked up to his chin, Jamie began to roll backward off the edge. "No!" Robert yelled. He lunged for the plump boy-sphere but was too late. Jamie rotated from view. Almost immediately a shrill, piercing scream filled the air. A pair of tennis shoes and chubby calves thrust up above the edge of the tower platform and began to kick about. Jamie was upside down!
Robert threw himself down at the edge of the platform and began yelling instructions. "Don't let go of the rope!" A frantic tennis shoe struck him in the face. Holding his nose, Robert bellowed, "You've got to pull yourself up! Pull yourself up!"
"I can't! I caaaannn't!" Jamie squealed. "I can't moooove! Aaaaaah! Aaaaaah! Aaaaaah!"
Amidst exclamations of "Forget this!" and "I don't wanna die!" and "Is this legal?" the entire group of would-be rappellers on the staircase began hastily to descend. "Lower him to the ground!" Robert shouted to the belayer at the bottom of the tower. In about twenty seconds Jamie lay safely on the ground, his Swiss seat tangled about his knees. Tears streamed from his eyes as his body heaved in silent sobs.
"Well, you aren't dead, " Robert observed as he walked up to the prostrate boy. "I told you not to go upside down." Jamie looked up and with snotty sniffles replied, "That was the worst thing ever!"
"Yeah," Robert agreed, "It looked pretty bad." He lay down beside Jamie in the tall waving grass. Neither of them said a word. They just felt the heat of the sun on their skin, and listened to the sighing wind and the chirping birds, and watched the clouds glide by. After several meditative minutes, Robert spoke: "So, you wanna try it again?"
Jamie stood to his feet. "Okay," he said.