Another victim of spacial segregation

8/8/2006

Imagine the thrill of freefalling several stories with nothing between you and your future as a human pancake but a simple elastic cord.

Imagine the adrenaline rush as you plummet headfirst to the unforgiving earth below.
Imagine your first experience bungee jumping.

Bungee jumping is an activity in which a person jumps from a high place, with one end of an elastic cord attached to their ankles and the other end attached, hopefully, to the jumping-off point.

When a person jumps, the cord stretches to take up the energy of the fall. The jumper, most often screaming at this point, flies upwards as the cord snaps back, and then bounces up and down until the initial energy of the jump is dissipated.

Some people call this fun. Others shake their heads, roll their eyes, and call it suicide practice.

Bungee is not new, and most likely began as an accident when some poor sap picking coconuts fell out of a tree and was saved by tangled vines.

In the 1950s, a BBC film crew captured footage of the "land divers" of Pentecost Island in Vanuatu; young men who jumped from tall wooden platforms with vines tied to their ankles as a test of courage.

The first modern bungee jump was made in 1979, somewhat fittingly, on April Fool’s Day, when four members of the Dangerous Sports Club leaped from the 250ft Clifton Suspension Bridge in Bristol.

The jumpers were arrested shortly after, but couldn’t shake the rush, and continued with jumps that spread the concept worldwide. By 1982, they were jumping from cranes and hot air balloons.

Last weekend, while whitewater rafting on the Ottawa River with a crew of beer-fueled maniacs, misfits and monsters, I had the opportunity to try bungee jumping. I wanted to try, you see, but they wouldn’t let me—because I am too big and fat.

The rigging is rated for a maximum of 250lbs, which leaves me out in the cold until I lose a few dozen pounds, or an arm, or a leg, or both.

My first reaction was to write a strongly-worded letter of disgust to the bungee people, and let them know the level of discrimination that is running rampant in the anti-fatite world of extreme sports.

I wanted to stick up for everyone else who has suffered from spacism, felt the cruel sting of spacial segregation, or been excluded due to their girth, but decided against it. A letter like that would only increase the ridicule people of size already face.

Instead, I watched a pair of twins, Marcos and Marcelos, who together don’t weigh as much as yours truly, leap from the bright blue sky. Marcos completed his jump without incident, but Marcelos wound up with bright red eyes due to burst blood vessels, and was a full inch taller than his brother.

And I wound up with the last laugh after all.

You can stretch right up and touch the sky

8/1/2006

A lot of songs have tried to capture summer in a bottle, but none have ever done it better than “In the Summertime” by Mungo Jerry.

The eternally infectious anthem for summer is far and away the biggest hit ever penned by Mungo Jerry singer, songwriter and guitarist Ray Dorset.

Back in the summer of 1970, Mungo Jerry was a little-known British “skiffle” jug band, banging out spontaneous rock and pop songs with such home grown instruments as the upright bass, keyboard, washboard, kazoo, and the jug—which takes somewhat of a starring role in “In the Summertime”.

The song spent 20 weeks in the Top 100, seven of those charted at number one. By the end of the year, it had sold six million copies. It was the fastest selling single of its time, holding that record for 20 years, en route to selling 30 million copies.

But, that’s not important. What matters is the song itself, its casually engaging backbeat and easygoing delivery—and its laid-back lyrics.

The song opens with a simple “In the summertime when the weather is high, you can stretch right up and touch the sky.”

I’ve never heard a staff meteorologist mention that the weather will be high today, but you can bet it’s not a bad thing. You will also never hear a meteorologist say there is a 50 per cent chance of rain, because that means it will either rain, or it won’t, and that kind of indecision drives normal people crazy, and gets weathermen fired.

“When the weather's fine, you got women, you got women on your mind. Have a drink, have a drive. Go out and see what you can find.”

Assuming Mungo is drinking lemonade, a drink and a drive is a great way to spend a sun-shiny day. If his drink happens to be something else, you have to remember he has women, he has women, on his mind, and his judgement is already impaired.

“If her daddy's rich, take her out for a meal. If her daddy's poor, just do what you feel.”
This the best advice on dating I ever got as a kid.

Come to think of it, it is the only dating advice I ever got as a kid, unless you count how the Little Rascals were always fighting for the affections of that sexpot teacher of theirs, Miss McGillicutty.

“When the weather's fine, we go fishing or go swimming in the sea. We're always happy. Life's for living. Yeah, that's our philosophy.”

A good friend of mine keeps a copy of “In the Summertime” in his car at all times. He drives a convertible, and the CD goes in every time the top comes down. We once played the song, plenty loud, in a quiet Florida subdivision, cruising up the street in first gear as the idle pulled the car along at a brisk 5 kph, bringing a smile to everyone we met.

Life’s for living. Yeah, that’s our philosophy.