After last week's disastrous attempt at gliding with my new "wings" I decide that I should try again as soon as possible or I would just wuss out and never fly at all. So I sneak into Evergreen Stadium, hop up on top of the grandstand awning or whatever you call it, and get ready for Take #2.
Evergreen Stadium (sorry, I refuse to call it Northwest Mutual Savings and Loan Stadium) is a big open air football stadium where the Greeners play. The grandstands on each side are covered by these gigantic overhanging structures which theoretically keep spectators dry while the players below are wet and miserable. In theory, anyway. The geniuses who designed the stadium oriented it in such a way that chill wind blowing in off the ocean just shoots right through the stadium - hence it's nickname Windchill Field. But hey, whatever, at least we taxpayers didn't have to foot the bill for it... Oh, wait. Yes, we did have to pay for it. I could go on about corporate welfare but nobody reads this blog for that shit. Come to think of it, nobody reads this blog for any reason.
I digress. It's midnight, the stadium is dark and empty, and I'm standing on the edge of this grandstand shelter in my armor trying to work my courage up. After last week's mishap, I have decided to test out the glider wings in a deserted area that was lacking in a) spectators to point and laugh at me, and b) skyscrapers to run into.
I step up to the edge and look down. Jesus, that's a long way. What is that, an eight story fall?
You may recall how I was desperate for some kind of aerial upgrade to my Velvet Marauder body armor after a battle with a Jet Pack Mafia goon (see post Why Jet Packs Should Be Illegal, 11/26/04). Those fuckers keep knocking off armored cars and I'm not having a lot of luck stopping them because they can fly whereas I cannot. So I sent away my body armor to My Guy for an expensive upgrade. My Guy added these kick-ass expandable wings that retract under my shoulder cape when not in use, and I was psyched. Stoked, even. (see post I Believe I Can Fly, 12/11/04) Then I tried the wings out and fucked my neck up real good in the process.
Okay, I'm standing there on the edge, thinking of reasons not to jump. I have to pee. Maybe I should pee. No! No, no peeing! No, I'm a goddamn superhero, I've fought ninjas and super-strong perverts in bear suits and evil Tibetan sorcerors! This is nothing! An eight story fall on to astroturf is nothing.
"I can do this," I say out loud, but the wind whisks my voice away and I end up sounding like a little girl. I clear my throat. "Fucking A, I can do this!" I hit my fists together. "Game on. Game on!"
I clip the wingtips on to the hardpoints on each of my gauntlets and on my utility belt. I spread my arms. Whoosh! The glider wings fill with air, forming a delta shaped wing on my back.
"GAME ON!" I scream and jump.
My body launches out over the dark stadium, then starts to fall. I keep my arms spread, trying to stay parallel with the ground. Shit. Shit!
Then I notice that I'm not plummeting to the earth. I'm... I'm gliding!
Cold wind catches me and lifts me up. The grandstand on the other side of the stadium is rushing towards me. Then I remember the instructions:
The webbing under the shoulder cape creates a wing-like surface area that will slow your fall rate from 120 MPH to approximately 50-70 MPH. At the same time, the wing structures can increase your forward speed from zero to over 80 MPH.
Okay, instead of falling straight down I'm speeding laterally towards an immobile object. I need to turn. Resisting the temptation to attempt a dramatic motion, I gently, gently angle my body to the right. I will myself to turn...
...and I wheel around in a graceful arc like a hawk as I slowly float down. I come to a skidding halt at the fifty yard line, then twist my gauntlets. Thwack! The glider wings snap back up under my shoulder cape.
I cannot fucking believe it.
"WINNER!" I scream, pumping my fists in the air.
"I RULE! I FUCKING RULE!"
1 comment:
Yes, VM, you rule, You F---in' rule!!! Go VM! Go VM! Three Cheers. Hip, hip, horray. Hip, hip, horray. Hip, hip, horray.
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