This is how I spent the better half of my afternoon-on my ass on a trampoline, a look of mixed delight and fear upon my face with a slight case of total body perspiration.
I was never much of a gymnast. I took up weekly lessons at age 6 mostly to wear the leotards, my personal favorite a royal blue bodysuit with “America” written across my underdeveloped chest. Everyone else moved up in level. I stuck in the beginner class with the 5 year olds. When you’re seven and surrounded by a bunch of snot-nosed chump boys, your world is over. Bonafide babies, how dare they?!
Hollywood Stunts Trick Trampoline Class reminded me of the good ole days. I mastered the first 3 tricks no problem. Trampoline Beast Mode. Then I hit flat-line central. Just me and the seat drop, no flips up this invisible sleeve.
But for $20 bucks I got to spend an adventure-filled afternoon with Chris is Polish Greenpoint, Brooklyn, watching my aerodynamic sweets turn flips with the professionals. Best 20 I ever spent. Want a surefire way to feel like your boyfriend kicks everyone else’s boyfriend’s ass? Take Chris to a class that involves turning tricks. Brace yourself for a chorus of “oohs” and “ahhs” and then gloat and say “that’s my fiancée, no big deal!” He even landed a standing back tuck, as in no trampoline, just him and the cold hard Brooklyn floor.
By the end of the two hours, I may have incurred some minor whiplash-turns out I don’t take well to falling on my back and springing back up. My body just can’t relinquish control. But I had a dopey grin on my face and a serious itching to just bounce the day away, me and my trampoline together forever.
Chris did a few more twist flips and a standing trick or two bonding with the 20 year old coach until I begged for a lunch break-it was a completely normal abnormal afternoon.