WHEN I FLY

About ten seconds, that’s roughly how long it takes to hit the ground from one thousand feet. Anyway, that’s what I told the man, the one hanging out from the rail on The Royal Gorge Bridge, the one with the look of death in his eyes. Flashing and flicking like they were. Ten seconds, one thousand feet. What I didn’t say was, less the fifty feet short of the thousand the height of the bridge actually was. Fifty to spare so if he counted, he would get to nine point nine-five before he stopped. I thought that would save him some worry. 

It was the same old story. Well, as it happens, two stories, “I’m broke and she’s gone,” he mumbled.  

No tears, they never have tears, just the look, the eyes and the shaking. For some reason they all shake. Kind of vibrate, I suppose. 

I said, “You know, I’ve always thought what it would be like to fly but I’ve not had the chance. Not like you. You’ve got ten seconds to find out.” 

That’s when he looked at me, “Ten seconds, that long, are you sure? I thought it would be much shorter.” 

“Nope ten will do it,” and I counted it down. Extra slowly. Ended with, "one and… splat.” 

Now he was really shaking. I could hear his mind repeating out of his mouth, “A long time, ten seconds.” 

“It sure is, unless you find you can fly, of course. Tell me, what’ll you think about? When I fly I think I will first feel the wind then the whir.” 

“The whir?” 

“Yeah, the whir of the videotape. You’ll feel it. One second after you let go. Your life whizzes by and depending on a few things you might make the end but only the real boring bastards manage that.” 

“Would you get to the end?” 

“No way, do I look that dull? My life’s so full. Sure, I’ve had all the crap. Like you my wife skedaddled. Cleared out everything. Left me just two maxed out cards and a broken fridge. But, what the hell, life’s too short. In your case just ten seconds the moment…” 

“I let go. So, what did you do?” 

“Easy, I stuck my boots on the dirt, dusted down the suit and started afresh. That sure beats trying to fly. What about you, would you finish the tape?” 

“Halfway I reckon I’d get.” 

“And there’s still much more to add… How about a beer and we can talk it over, what you’re going to do.” 

It didn’t take much talking about. One beer’s worth to be exact. It turned out the guy wanted to finish the tape especially after I suggested all he needed to do was a quick edit then start over just like the director starting a new film scene.