Bravery or Idiocy?

August 8, 2013

Linking up with MamaKat today answering the prompt: write a post inspired by the word “brave.”


Mama’s Losin’ It


I have complete buyer’s remorse for agreeing to this. I hate amusement parks. I especially hate them in August when everyone glistens with sweat and wears shorts so short that real estate I never wanted to get an eyeful of spills out into plain view.

“Ewww,” my sister says, wrinkling her nose. “Look at the tramp stamp on that fat chick over there. Is that a fucking unicorn?”

“With a rainbow,” Sam says. “I bet she regrets that one.”

“I dunno,” I say, looking at the wide expanse of her backside, which is oozing a slow death out of tight denim. “Doesn’t seem like she feels ashamed about anything.”

“Could this line move any slower,” my sister complains. “Who had the bright idea to do the Alpine Slide?”

I sway a little on my feet and grab Sam’s beefy arm to steady myself. “I don’t feel so good. Does anyone have a water bottle?” I inhale and am smacked by a sweet, acrid odor. “Are we near the funnel cake stand? Jesus. Who eats those things? I’m gonna be sick.”

“Shouldn’t have had those last two cocktails at 1am,” my sister sneers.

“I think it was three cocktails, and fuck you,” I say. “You didn’t get dumped for a stripper last night.”

“He dumped you for a stripper? SA-WEET!” Sam hoots. “That’s classic. Shotgun Willie’s or Diamond Cabaret?”

“You perv.” I punch him hard on the shoulder and snatch his water bottle. “Shotgun’s, I think.”

“Hey! I know a few girls who dance there,” Sam says. “What’s her name?”

“Of course you do. Of course you know girls who work there, you disgusting pervert.” I finish off his water. “And they do not dance. What, they work for the freakin’ Geoffrey Ballet? If your job requires a pole and a G-string, you ain’t dan-cing.”

“Jeez, bitter much?” he says, rubbing his arm. “No, really. What’s her name?”

 “Shut up!”

It’s JoAnn or Joanie or something like that,” my sister says.

“But that’s her real name,” I sneer.  “God knows what they call her at work. Probably Moondust or Vuitton or Skylar or something.”

“Huh. Don’t know her.” He sounds kind of disappointed.

I slap my sled onto the concrete chute next to Sam. “Race you.”

I press the lever down, full-throttle, and fly down the track. I take the first curve way too fast and almost flip over, and the attendant hollers at me to slow down, but I don’t care. I am dumped for a stripper and hung over at a shitty amusement park in 95-degree heat. My day can’t possibly get any worse.

My sister creeps along in the sled behind me. “Nutjob! Slow down! What are you doing?”

I wait for Sam and my sister at the bottom of the track, winded.

“Nice job, Evil Knievel,” she says. “You almost bit it up there.”

“I have free tickets for the bungee,” Sam says wickedly, pulling pink tickets out of his pocket.

“What don’t you have free tickets for?” I mutter. “Who wins a damn radio contest, anyway?”

“Bungee? Like, jumping?” My sister shakes her head. “Uh-uh. No way.”

“Come on, live a little, ladies!”

We give him the dead fish eye.

“Let’s at least go take a look at it, okay? Man, you girls are a buzzkill.”


“Holy…” my sister says, standing at the base of the impossibly tall structure. “And may I re-iterate, ‘no way?'”

We watch as people plunge, gleeful and terrified. Some of them whoop and guffaw when it’s over. Some slither out of the harness, looking for the nearest bathroom.

“Screw it,” I say dully, watching them fall. “I’m in.”

“Whaaaaa?” my sister shakes her head. “No way are you doing that thing. You cried on the ferris wheel.”

“That was two years ago and that was a different day. On that day, I had not been freshly dumped for a girl who shakes her tits and pirouettes on a pole. Today, death is a blessing. Doing it.”

Sam grabs my arm and hustles me into the line, clearly afraid that I’ll come to my senses.

The waiver we have to sign in order to do this is disturbingly long.

“Do NOT lie about your weight,” the attendant cautions the women in line.

I do not lie. I sign the waiver without reading it. Sam and I begin the ascent to the top of the tower.

“They should have an elevator or something,” Sam grunts. “These stairs suck.”

With each step, my stomach plummets further into my bowels. Shitshitshit. What the Hell? I hate heights, I am the biggest scaredy-cat known to man, and I’ve gone too far to back out with any shred of dignity.

In short, I’m screwed.

“Who’s going first?” the attendant at the top of the tower asks.

I shake my head violently.

“Guess it’s me then,” Sam laughs. He bumps me with his hip. “Don’t bail on me, now….”

I smile weakly and make the mistake of looking down. A little insect waves at me from below. My sister. Shit.

The insect bowls over a little, one arm cradling her stomach.

Bitch is laughing at me.

Sam looks down. “Lordy…”

“Ready?” the attendant says.

He looks nowhere near ready. “Just let your body fall forward,” the attendant says.

Just let your body fall forward? Off of this huge mother of a tower thingy. Into thin air. Okey-dokey, Asshat.

Sam gives a big yell and falls forward. I watch his body plummet and then snap back up into the air. “Yaaarrrrr!” He’s jubilant.

I am not.

Because now it’s my turn.

I stand on the ledge, fawn-legs trembling.

“Just let your body fall forward,” the attendant reminds me.

Shut your gaping pie-hole, you creep!

I do not fall forward.

I shut my eyes and take a flying leap off the dang thing.

About halfway down, I dare to open my eyes and everything is a blurry mess, but it’s over.

Oh, wait, it isn’t over. Because when you LEAP off a bungee tower and you only weigh 110 pounds (ah, those were the days), the snapback is shocking.

I’m launched back up into the air–horrifically high–and all I can think is, “Crap, I thought this was over!”

“Fuuuuuucking AAAAAA!” I bellow.

It takes at least six trips back in the air before I slow down enough to land. My sister and Sam are in hysterics. I hope they pee themselves.

“Oh my God! Dude!” my sister gasps between belly laughs. “You snapped up almost as high as the freaking tower. You should have seen your face.”

I look around and there are several mothers with young children giving me the stink eye. Ooops. I did just bellow the F-word, didn’t I?

My knees almost buckle as they wrestle me out of the harness. I stagger off the padded surface towards my sister.

She’s crying, she’s laughing so hard. “Oh my God. Your face!”

“I. Need. Beer,” I say.

We make our way to the German BierGarten. Sam tells me to sit. He comes back with huge steins of lager.

“I’m getting food,” he says, plopping the beers on the table. “This chick needs to gain some poundage.”

“Shut up. Whatever.”

He brings back fat sausages and I wolf mine down, suddenly ravenous.

“Never, in a million years, did I think you’d go through with that,” my sister says. “Never.”

“I know!” Sam says, wiping beer off his mustache. “What turned you so badass, kid?”

He raises his glass up for a toast. “You should get dumped for a stripper every day.”


{ 31 comments… read them below or add one }

Abby August 8, 2013 at 6:08 am

You need to write a book. Posts like these leave me completely mesmerized and I totally want to read more, which is saying a lot considering I have the attention span of a manic gnat with ADD. Love it.


Shannon August 8, 2013 at 6:13 am

Does anyone ever bungee jump without bellowing the F-word?
Another great story!


Jamie August 8, 2013 at 7:38 am

You are the queen of story telling! I ate this one up. Love the sister tales so much.


Raine August 8, 2013 at 1:16 pm

Great story! You were brave – who cares about the reason :) And from what I read from your other commenters you have a great blog, so I’m going to stick around and read a bit.


Rob August 8, 2013 at 4:44 pm

Down! Up… Down! Up… Down! Up… Down! Up… Down! Up… Down! Up…
I feel like it is terror all the way down, a little relief on the way up, and then terror again…

WOW! You are amazing :)

If my husband steps foot in a stripper bar, there will be hell to pay! He wouldn’t dare. I am very clear about certain boundaries and that is one of them.


TKW August 12, 2013 at 7:21 am


I’ll let my husband go if it’s a bachelor party, but that’s IT!


SuziCate August 8, 2013 at 5:26 pm

WOW, very brave and downright crazy! I never could have done that…you are my hero!


Lisa @ The Meaning of Me August 8, 2013 at 6:04 pm

Holy crap that’s a story and a half! Love it. Good enough without the stripper, but somehow the stripper makes it fantastic.


TKW August 12, 2013 at 7:22 am


The stripper makes it one of those “is this really my life?” moments!


Dyanne @ I Want Backsies August 8, 2013 at 6:36 pm

Even being dumped by a stripper wouldn’t get me to bungee jump.


TKW August 12, 2013 at 7:23 am


Clearly, the humiliation of being dumped by a stripped eroded my brain…


TKW August 12, 2013 at 7:23 am



Dyanne @ I Want Backsies August 12, 2013 at 7:40 am

Well, reading about it eroded mine. I wrote that you were dumped BY a stripper when you actually wrote that you were dumped FOR a stripper. (Being dumped BY one would have made for quite a different, but still interesting, story.)


Arnebya August 9, 2013 at 5:29 am

I love you more than lemon in my water. And this was perfect.


Biz August 9, 2013 at 7:00 am

I love you and your mad writing skillz! Hope you have a great weekend – count down to school starting already! :D Hugs!


elizabeth August 9, 2013 at 8:53 am

So I’ve never been on an Alpine Slide, but it made me think of this place (that I’ve never been to either, but scroll down to the waterpark area to see a slide that actually terrifies me:

(Oh, Jersey.)

The absolute closest I could ever get to bungee jumping was my bridge-jumping experiences back when I was in high school, because I definitely like the one-and-done kind of deal.


TKW August 12, 2013 at 7:24 am


Jumping off a bridge? That sounds way scarier to me than the bungee tower!


elizabeth August 12, 2013 at 5:49 pm

Full disclosure: it was a very small bridge that went over a particularly deep part of a creek, and I scooted off of it rather than jumped. And we had someone go down and make sure it was deep enough for us to jump into. That said: I will never forget the feeling of hitting the water the first time I scooted.


Kristen @ Motherese August 9, 2013 at 10:36 am

Girl. I would never have pegged you for a bungee jumper. Snaps of respect (from your nervous small dog friend).



TKW August 12, 2013 at 7:25 am


I think that’s why this story stands out in my mind. SO out of character for Miss Nervous Small Dog!


Alison August 10, 2013 at 1:55 am

You’d be who I want to be if I was brave enough to bungee jump.
Love your stories.


Contemporary Troubadour August 10, 2013 at 11:49 am

I am in awe. This girl would have turned around at the top (or halfway up the stairs) and marched straight back down, being stripper-dumped or not. For all your protesting about being a nervous small dog, this suggests otherwise!


Tiffany August 10, 2013 at 7:50 pm

Damn girl. Very brave!!


Kat August 11, 2013 at 11:46 am

I have a feeling if I were dumped for a stripper I would have gone the “chocolates and movies in” route versus the “death defying bungee leap” route, but I’m so glad you lived to tell the tale! I agree with the other commenters, when can we expect the memoir!?!


Velva August 11, 2013 at 2:57 pm

I would have crapped my pants…Your my new hero.



Chrisor August 11, 2013 at 3:15 pm

That is bravery to the max. It’s funny what is brave when we’re young, we couldn’t be paid to do when we’re older (and wiser!). ;-) I almost wish I’d been brave enough to bungee jump but I was busy riding in the front seat of all the rollercoasters. Gah!


TKW August 12, 2013 at 7:27 am


I’m not sure which is the suicide seat on the roller coaster–the front car or the back car? Has anyone done research on this? I can’t decide.


Tinne from Tantrums and Tomatoes August 12, 2013 at 4:44 am

I’m officially awestruck.


Caitlin August 12, 2013 at 5:47 am could you get me to bungee jump. dang girl; bravery at its finest!


Sherri August 12, 2013 at 8:12 am

Yeah – bravery – especially back in the day when all you had to worry about was beer and being dumped by strippers, and…. you chose bungee! I’m not afraid of heights, but it still freaks me out. Way to go :).


Jennifer August 14, 2013 at 6:04 am

Never in a million years. And having read this and knowing you, I still can not picture you actually doing this, even though I know you did. Does not compute.


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