Flipping Out

A telling from Friday, delayed until Monday, after it was fancied up on Sunday. Do tell me what you think of the actual writing. It might be useful for random contests that I don't want to actually WRITE anything for, but I want to enter anyway. :D And yes, I realize that the tricks listed in this piece are not difficult on the grand scale of things, but for me, these were huge accomplishments.


I have never been one for excessive daring. True, roller coasters enthrall me to no end, but that is usually where my search for bigger thrills ends. The times are rare that I strive to force adrenaline into my system through stunts.

But somehow, staff parties at the swimming pool can change a person.

As a lifeguard, I know the reason for every rule at the pool, and I therefore know the way to break each without dying or causing serious injury. After breaking all the rules I could think of, I turned to more docile entertainment: tricks off the diving board. My repertoire was small, and the most difficult trick was a pike dive—on a good day.

But if anything can change a person more than a staff party, it’s a challenge.

Usually I will cede the spotlight when it comes to stunts. Challenge me to a race, and I’ll jump to the starting line. Challenge me to a game, and I’ll be the first to learn the rules and find the loopholes. But I’m not an acrobat, and I won’t claim to be.

Somehow, that inhibition melted when I saw that Jared, the coworker that started the challenge, had the limit of a pike dive as well. After that, it was all just a matter of guts. I suppose that’s why I accepted the challenge.

Through some manner of masochistic stupidity, I mentioned that once my mom had done a back dive off the board and I had been unable to follow suit, much to my eternal shame. Jared immediately grasped the weakness and pulled off the back dive, raising his eyebrows. Hello, gauntlet. How I do wish people would not abuse you with such frequent throwing.

“You work on that flip of yours and I’ll get back to you,” I said. His front flip was more of a mutated upside-down twist, so while he hammered out a straighter variation, I practiced backbends off the side of the pool. No one would ever know that I had once been a gymnast for a six-year span.

The next obstacle was the fact that the board was much farther from the water than the wall was. After several minutes of psychological anguish and a bout of clinging to the board in a most pitiful crouch, I managed to throw my hands back and follow them into the pool.

So, of course, I had to do it again after I matched Jared’s front flip. The second swing at the dive resulted in a heinous over-rotation, and I slapped my legs on the water.

“Just a bit farther,” Jared mocked, “and you’ll have a back flip.”

“Then I’ll raise you to that.” Curse my unfettered mouth.

Jared had never done a back flip either, but for some reason I was not the first to try it. I was grateful for the lapse in gentlemanly procedure; “ladies first” was a rule that could keep itself away from such trials.

“This is all just self-inflicted torment,” I laughed when he scrunched his face again at the end of the board. Every time he got close to jumping, his facial features would collapse into an image of agony.

“I know,” he said.

“What can happen? We both know you won’t hit the board, so what’s left? A back-flop? It’s just water.” Despite the competition, I wanted to be an encouraging friend. I’m sure I sounded encouraging too, but that didn’t mean I believed anything I was saying. I had drawn my line at the back dive. Jared could beat me out, I had decided, and I would find a way to heal the wounded ego. Better than a wounded head.

“You’re right.” Jared’s next almost-attempt got so close that he had actually bent his knees to jump. He opened his eyes and stabbed a finger at me. “If I do it, do you promise to do it too?”

A moment’s hesitation, then a pained, “I promise.” Reason shrieked at me, but my mouth had outrun it and I was committed. Promises are sacred, especially death pacts.

Jared closed his eyes again and started to think about going through with the back flip. My encouraging words had dried up. I wouldn’t stop him, but fire would burn cold before I helped him.

Seven minutes later—I insisted on keeping time—Jared jumped into a nearly perfect back flip.

If I were one to swear, I can conjure several words that would have left my mouth, none of them particularly pleasant.

I paced to the edge of the board and hung my heels over the end. If I let myself think, it would never happen. A promise was a promise. One, two, three.

What? Lady Cynicism, are you yet living?

Yes, yes I am. But I must say that I was disappointed. The first moment, that leap, that flinging of one’s self into nothingness—that was terrifying. But after that, everything was expected, and occurred without a thought or fear, and the water cradled my fall.

There might be something to that.