Flippers and Stilts

My dad volunteered for an unusual mission when I was a teenager. He and his childhood friend, Chuck, belonged to a group of divers who retrieved bodies from boating accidents at Cedar Lake, Indiana. Chuck and my dad would share stories while I listened. Most of them were about someone falling out of a boat and getting run over with a boat prop, leaving the body in a fatal state. Their phones only rang when there was no hope of survival, and the family wanted the body retrieved. I found the whole idea a bit morose. However, it was balanced with something very cool, a scuba diving outfit. I mean, this was super cool. He had the whole outfit and an oxygen tank. Heck, even a spearfish gun. My brothers and I would use it to shoot at trees in our backyard. This apparatus was seriously dangerous. Fortunately, no one ever got hurt.

I became mesmerized and obsessed with it. My dad found me staring at it one day and suggested that I give it a try. “Go ahead Mike, try it on. You can go in the pool with it.”

“Really?” I was excited to give it a try. “The tank too?”

“Sure, I can show you how it works.”

The next thing I knew I was underwater for fifteen minutes. The suit had booties, mittens, a head piece, and a weight belt to keep me low to the bottom of the pool. I would have taken the spearfish gun in too, but I think we can all agree that would have most likely been a bad idea. So that was it. Every chance I could get, I would suit up!

One day, a hot summer day, I suited up. This time my intention was to take a casual stroll down the street to my friend, Ben’s house. Okay, okay, it was a bit of a bragging scheme. But I was not above that, not with this super cool outfit. The thing I didn’t count on were the flippers which were hard to maneuver on the street. You had to bring your knees high to keep the flippers from tripping up and dropping the whole outfit, body and all, onto the pavement. I only fell once.

And there was one more thing I didn’t count on – the temperature. The full body suit was spongy and colored black. In this dry hot summer weather, I began to boil. I finished showing off my outfit to Ben and popped the flippers off. I ran home overheated and in a bit of a panic. I sat on the lawn trying to remove the outfit, but everything stuck to me. I was able to remove the mittens and booties, but I didn’t have the strength to remove any other parts. Even my head piece held in place no matter how much I pulled. I was getting very hot now. I lay on the lawn boiling when I spotted the garden hose. I rolled over to it and turned it on. I shoved it in my pants and began filling the outfit with cold water from the inside. I bloated to twice the size. But the idea worked. I was able to slip out of each piece of the outfit, one by one.

***

I soon lost interest in the diving suit. I had discovered something else, STILTS!

I had some leftover wood from my magic show adventure. I decided to build myself a set of stilts. I would be three or four feet taller. This was an easy woodwork project too. I had the stilts assembled in no time at all. But I couldn’t stay on them. I hadn’t developed the skills yet through experience. But why wait on experience when you have a whole coil of electrical wire? I wired my legs to the stilts from thigh to ankle. I needed the help of my sister and younger brother to get up, but boy, when I was up, I could get around easily now. I hoofed around the house. I sent my brother into the house to get some small blankets and attached them around my legs. Now, it looked like I was wearing the pants of a nine-foot man. And I was quickly learning how to manage quite well. I pulled a few fast leg moves and some simple dance steps. This was working out great!

Once again, I felt the need to go down to Ben’s house and show him how cool I was. I envisioned myself toddling along in a summer parade, Uncle Sam style! I had made it all the way to the foot of the driveway, my sister and brother circling around me and laughing and carrying on. I was a hit. Well, until I miss-stepped and started to lean forward, too far forward. Unable to bend my knees and collect myself, I simply continued moving forward, falling toward the earth. The only recourse was to stick my hands out in front of me. I hit the gravel driveway at full speed, burying small rocks into my palms, my poor bloody palms. I lay on the driveway fighting back tears as my siblings untied the electric wire that kept me bonded to the stilts.

That summer I learned a lesson. Trying to impress your friends isn’t what you would expect. In fact, it’s better to let them try to impress you. That’s more entertaining.