I had just seen someone bungee jump for the first time. I was five or six and was watching ABC’s the Wide World of Sports or something. I thought it looked like a lot of fun, being able to defy death with the help of just a piece of rope, that I ran outside to try it. Of course, had I the patience to stay and watch the whole segment, I would have probably seen that the rope they use is highly elastic. It’s not like they’re just tying any old rope around their waists and jumping off of stuff.

That’d be, well, stupid.

I’m sure you can see where this is going.

I ran into the garage, looking for any length of rope that I could find. Right near the front, laying next to some old tires, was a tow rope. Perfect. Now, where to jump off of?

The tallest building I could get on top of was the one I was inside of at the moment, the garage. Right next to the garage, facing away from our house, was a tree with a branch I could use to tie the rope to. I shimmied up the tree, about fifteen feet in the air, and tied the rope to one of the thicker branches, making sure that, when dangling, it didn’t touch the ground. Grabbing the other end of the rope, I climbed on top of the garage and surveyed the scene. The tree branch was about eight feet from the garage and I had roughly 12 feet of rope, including the loop I had fashioned for my waist.

In my head, I played out how everything was going to work. I would step into the loop in the rope, slide it tight around my waist, jump majestically off the roof, freefall the fifteen or so feet towards the ground and be snatched up at the last instant by my trusty tow-rope.

It was almost too perfect…

The rope now around my waist, I readied myself at the edge of the garage. Raising my arms above my head and dipping my knees slightly, I launched myself off the roof and into the open air. As the ground came up to meet me, I was perfectly calm, the thick rope a reminder around my waist. It got closer and closer and then BAM! The rope cinched up and stopped me from impact.

All of the wind was jolted out of my body in an instant as the rope tightened violently against my stomach and slid up to my diaphragm. My mouth opened wide and the scream that should have been there was simply a rush of air followed by a tiny “eeahh.” The rope jarred against me a few more times before swinging to and fro and finally stopping, with me suspended four feet off the ground.

My feet couldn’t touch and I couldn’t twist myself around to try and work on the convoluted knot I had used to make the loop. I was stuck on the far side of the garage from the house, barely able to catch my breath.

I’m not sure how long I dangled there, legs and arms sagging, tears streaming down my face from shame and the circle of pain around my waist, but it was long enough for me to make the decision never to try such a stunt again, ever. Finally, my dad came around the corner and ran over to help me down, half angry and half terrified at what his son had tried to do.

I was forbidden to go up on the roof of the garage and his tow rope was locked away in the toolbox in the back of his pickup. I’d soon find covert ways to sneak onto the roof again, but I’d stick to trying to jump off into piles of leaves or do the jump, land and roll that I’d seen on Miami Vice or Beverly Hills Cop or something. But I kept that important lesson in the back of my head; never tie a rope around your waist and jump off of a tall building.

That’s one to grow on, kids.