When Fun Stops Being Fun
Have you ever been really high off the ground, in mid air, about to fall? I did that once. Never again. The year was 2012 and this was the final few hours of my trip to Alabama to visit family. School was tomorrow so I was anxious to get home and sleep so that the next day I wouldn't be passing out on everything. The whole family was out, my cousins that I still don't know the names of, and my uncles that I also don't know the names of. The social gathering was getting stale as I was extremely uncomfortable with conversation with my extended family. Just then I eyeballed a rope, hanging from a tree branch far above the ground. I leaned to my sister and said "Watch this."
My father caught wind of this and whispered to his brothers "Watch this." Now with all eyes on me, I decide to sprint towards the rope. A grasped the rope. For a very brief moment I felt like a man. Then it stopped being fun. The rope slipped from my hand as I must have been at least 10 feet off the ground. I plummeted like a rock, straight onto my right leg. This was probably the least fun I've had the whole trip as I was in a great deal of pain, physically and emotionally, as my entire extended family crowded around me laughing, with nobody offering to help me up. Eventually we went home. And my leg hurt for the next month and a half. The only real problem was that I had wellness first period.
RIP in piece leg, I remember that fateful day upon your return trip to school, I heard all about that dastardly rope. May you one day return to Alabama and seek revenge on that tightly threaded coil that is a rope.
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