Paramour

The achievement of human flight has long been a fascination and dream of mine. While other 2^nd graders played with Barbie, I learned about Orville and Wilbur Wright. By the age of 7, I had busted my lip no less than 5 times (3 in one day, which resulted in time-out and brief physics lesson) jumping off various objects attempting to fly. Or at least float. As a side note, I think I understood gravity, but I’m horribly hubristic (with a massive capacity for denial) when I want something enough. 

Yes, it's a fan you wear like a back pack and a parachute! That's it!

And then I see this. Today, I saw the next best thing to Icarus’s wings (before he flew too close to the sun and they melted). He ran, jumped, and flew. No cliffs, no airplane, no joke. And very little equipment either! 

I screamed at my mom to come look. She ignored me probably because me screaming is at least a twice daily occurrence, and something my momlearned to ignore a long time ago in the interest of maintaining her sanity. Luckily my dad gave up any efforts to save his sanity years ago, and answered the phone.

I’m probably going to order one off Ebay tonight.