I admit that my career in extreme sports ended with Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 3, so it’s possible, likely even, that I have been left behind by this new generation of thrill-seekers. Times have changed, I think, as I watch a human-being catapult into the air, traveling 0-200kph in one second, with no real destination other than "down."
There must be better hobbies. Rock-climbing. Skydiving. Traditional BASE jumping. Anything, really, that doesn’t treat your body with the respect of an Angry Bird.
For a fraction of a second, after the man has been launched into the air, before he’s pulled the cord on his parachute, the cheers stop. That morbid quiet is what terrifies me most.
Perhaps that is why I’ve taken the path of a writer, where I invite danger upon myself when I share an opinion of a video game. As a teenager, I must have wondered: how can I miss out on the raw adrenaline of real-life adventure, but have my life threatened, every so often — not by nature per say, but let’s say, a bitter man who has run out of Cheetos and has no one to blame but himself?
I guess the human slingshot isn’t so bad after all.