Fly Kicks Fly
They told me these bad boys were light and fierce.
Do or do not, there is no try. I’m trembling on this man made cliff in all its sky-scraping glory.
Welcome to the world’s most vertical city. My birthplace — Hong Kong.
And I’m terrified of heights.
I feel shit-defying tingles in my nether regions. A spicy sizzle. Stare down from absurdly tall buildings and you’ll feel it too.
The daredevil and coward in me wrestle all sweaty. The risk-taker piledrives the conservative. Ooooh. Ahhh. The crowd goes bonkers with tantric anticipation.
Think back to everything mom warns against.
This places somewhere between sleeping with wet hair and walking slipper-less on frigid floors.
Dying isn’t part of the plan —ain’t nobody got time for that. Better not miss this window of opportunity. Why else would I prowl Pinterest hunting down growth hacking infographics?
This jump is my minimum viable product. I’ll make it up as I go.
I check that my GoPro is near by. People need to see this. I’m going to be famous. Here’s my submission to some techno raving Humans are Awesome 2015 Youtube mix.
I’m here to test my kicks and chew bubble gum. And I’m all out of gum.
Here’s my leap of faith.
Salto mortale. Big baby steps into an uncertain future. I’m going all Indiana Jones up in here.
I can’t afford anything less. Burn rate is staggering. Growth at all costs. More. More. More.
This is scary.
The hot humid air loves my underwear. They cling to my buttocks in happy huddles. It sucks.
I don’t know if I want to jump anymore. Let’s just send some emails, watch a TED talk and call it a day.
Is this what it takes to find meaning. One cheap thrill after another?
I was promised I could fly with these shoes. They said it. Not me, they.
So if it goes south I’ve got someone to blame. Responsibilities lifted. It’s the economy’s fault of course!
The sweet smell of sewage wafts up to my nesting place. It smells of childhood nostalgia. Twenty minutes ago and I miss it already. The way crowds butt into you, cuts lines and unleashes rapid-fire profanity.
It’s lonely up here.
Below me are casual people doing casual things casually. They don’t give a fiddler’s fart about adventure. They don’t know about analysis paralysis. It’s none of their beeswax.
What if I fly and nobody notices? What if I fall and nobody cares?
I need more publicity. More attention. Look at me. I’m not some pitiful statistic or pixel spill. I’m not another one of your minimalist motivational wall posters or learn-from-failure feel good articles.
I’ve got a story. I’m real. I’m here. Acknowledge my existence!
I’m tempted to pull my phone and call somebody who knows somebody. Nah. The phone is too valuable. It’s my new eyes and ears and mouth and brain. It’s smarter than I am. I just press things and laugh at viral videos.
Viral is currency. And I want to be rich.
Next time I do this I’m going to get corporate sponsorship. I’ll have life-insurance backing and chirpy Legend of Zelda-esque music. Throw in a bottle of icy Pocari Sweat while you’re at it. They know what’s up. An advertisement on the moon! The next frontier.
I palm my face in disgust.
Next time I’ll jump from the moon. Wait. They already did something similar. There goes the novelty. Blast you, stratosphere! Eating away my page views.
The sun catches my laces.
To hell with it, I’m up here anyway. Might as well make myself useful. Do some life-planning and goal setting.
I hyperventilate. The possibilities are too much.
To jump or not to jump. Do I believe their mass-market advertising?
Honestly, all I want is another 咖哩魚蛋 (curry fish ball) or some 臭豆腐 (stinky tofu). I’m a simple guy. Food is just the ticket. All that flavour in me as I fly over concrete jungles.
“Quit staring into space. We’re late for lunch.”
I turn around and dust off my shoes. Phone’s still in my pocket. Fantastic.
My procrastinating brain shimmies in delight.
Flying can wait.