So! In spite of my abject terror of heights, I actually bumbled outside my comfort zone and signed up for a beginner rock-climbing class at The House of Fatal Rocks. Here's a bird's-eye view my first knuckle-gripping, molar-grinding, palm-sweating session.
Me: (sweating profusely and clinging desperately to a microscopic hairline crack in a 90-degree slippery rock wall)
Crazy Man Way Down on the Ground: Yeah, okay, good. That's very good! Your right foot is safely anchored on the ledge. Now, I want you to… Elizabeth? Can you hear me?
Me:
Crazy Man Way Down on the Ground: Oh, come on, I think you CAN hear me. If you can hear me, just nod, ok?
Me:
CMWDoG: Elizabeth? Just nod once, okay?
Me: (endangering life and limb, and my very precarious balance teetering up on the hairline ledge that's halfway to Jupiter, I move my head 1/16th of an inch)
CMWDoG: Good! I saw that! Okay! Now. I want you to pick up your left foot and…
Me: (shrilly) JEEZUS Effing CHRIST, Crazy Man! Are you smoking CRACK???
CMWDoG: (sighs) I dunno, it's beginning to sound like a pretty good idea. Now listen: just lift your left foot very slowly and…
Me: GAAAAAHHH!!!!! Noooooo!!!! I caaaaaan't!!!!
GAAAAAAHHH!!! Call the fire department! Bring in the hook and ladder!! Hellllllp!!! 9-1-1!!! Get me down from here!!!!! I'm faaallliiiing!!!!!
CMWDoG: (sighs again) Elizabeth? The ONLY possible way you're EVER going to climb this wall is if you lift your other foot up OFF the damn floor. Okay? Now can you do that?
Me: (frantically clawing at rock wall with bloody fingernails) Oh sure, I bet I could if I'd spent the last ten years smoking whatever the hell YOU'VE been hitting! Now, can you please send in a MEDEVAC rescue helicopter? Because no way in hell am I climbing back down this crazy thing backwards.
Stay tuned for lesson two, but I wouldn't hold your breath or anything ... As I was leaving, the Crazy Man was mumbling something incoherent about maybe closing shop and taking an extended vacation to some absurdly high-altitude place like Nepal or Tibet. Too bad, I was just getting the hang of it.
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Vibrating Liz |
| About the author: |
| Vibrating Liz is an avid writer, dancer, gardener, weight lifter, and cancer survivor who firmly believes that 50 is the new 18. She lives in a small rural village in the quirkiest part of the deep south with an engaging assortment of flora and fauna |
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