stuff to do

The greatest of ehhs: My shot at the flying trapeze

Ehh meaning my performance, not the super-fun experience, of course. 

Mikala Jamison, playing it cool while panicking internally.

Today, in a nondescript lot in Kensington flanked by towering buildings — some abandoned and graffiti-ed, some not — I took a nearly two-hour lesson in trapeze instructed by the good people at Fly School Circus Arts. 

Given this reporter’s spotty personal history with physical activities beyond simply being inside a gym — I sliced one leg open with the blade on the other foot during ice skating; I flew off my bike and skidded along the sidewalk during my inaugural ride; I pulled a butt muscle during a foray into Mixed Martial Arts training — I was perhaps not leery enough of the adventure.

But really, there’s little to worry about beyond how awkward you’ll look in all the Instagram videos.

The Fly School training is a completely exhilarating way to spend a day, especially in the summer, and you’ll really conquer that whole “do one thing every day that scares you” philosophy. It would also be a pretty great date — adrenaline bonds people, after all.

Here’s what’s likely to happen if you sign up for a sesson:

• You will climb the (seemingly) 484-foot ladder up to the (seemingly) two-square-inch suspended platform, from which you’ll dive and swing 25 feet in the air like a flying squirrel. The climb will be the most terrifying part of the entire experience.

• You will wonder, during the climb, if stocking feet on a hot, slippery metal ladder is really among today’s top-ten ideas, how the hell the platform is suspended and oh my god what if it collapsed, and why wearing gloves is not a thing during trapeze. Then you’ll decide to shut up and leave the equipment decisions to the professionals.

• You will think of that scene in Sex and the City where Carrie Bradshaw takes a flying trapeze lesson for her column — see, former female English majors, you can live the dream — and when the instructor asks if she’s ready to “grab the bar,” she uproariously replies, “I’m ready to go to the bar!” You will resist in the interest of professionalism from quoting that scene, even though it would be a completely adorable and relatable pop culture reference that would secure your identity as the comedy darling of the trapeze community.

• You will learn how to jump off the platform and swing from the bar; how to flip your legs through your hands and hold the bar with your knees (and then let go); and if you’re really doing excellently (I, uh, wasn’t…) you’ll learn how to do a catch. Watching an instructor climb a single rope up to the catch bar really seals the deal on the whole “I’m more out of shape than I thought I was” crisis.

• Your hands will hurt from gripping the bar, even though the instructors have you do that badass move that gymnasts do when they grab a handful of chalk to rub around in their palms. This is where your similarities to a gymnast will grind to a halt. 

• You will go three or so rounds, learning new things each time. It really gets easier every go round. If I could make one of those “It Gets Better” videos for trapeze lessons, I would. Just hang on. Literally. And figuratively.

• You will bond with your fellow lesson-takers as well as the instructors. The Fly School folks are the most friendly and supportive coaches. They will address you as “The Beautiful/Amazing [Your Name],” which will make you feel better when you flail around on the bar for a minute, have a mini panic attack, and then fall off.

So to sum up: A Fly School trapeze lesson is truly fun and a unique local thing to try. Go enjoy yourself. Ice your shoulders. Adults and kids over 6 can take lessons, which run $60 for two hours. 

Here's a video of my attemps. You'll see how one's leg flailing brings the swinging to a complete stop. Wait for the (only) cool part at the end, when I backflip.