A Few Ways I’m Not Going to Die

barry currin, stories of a world gone mad, beaverdamusa.comNone of us is going to get out of this world alive.

Not to be morbid, but we never know what’s going to happen to us when we get out of bed in the morning.

Freak accidents, disease, the approaching fool who is texting and driving — the list of things that can happen to us is virtually infinite.

I say all of that to say this, however: I also have a pretty long list of ways I am not going to die. 

Check out this headline from The Washington Post from a few days ago. 

“Mount Everest has gotten so crowded that climbers are perishing in the traffic jams.”

The article said, “A number of other people have died elsewhere in Nepal’s Himalayan mountains this season. Nepal has issued around 380 permits for those hoping to climb the mountain.… They cost about $11,000 each.”

The article said a photograph shot by one of the climbers showed 320 people waiting in line to ascend a particularly steep part of the mountain.

I don’t guess I need to tell you why there weren’t 321.

And can you believe it costs $11,000? Like I needed another reason not to do it.

Here’s another one.

I watched a little of the Red Bull Cliff Diving World Series over the weekend on television.

In case you missed it, international daredevils take turns diving in the water off of a platform nearly 100 feet in the air.

They twist and turn and corkscrew as they descend oh so rapidly.

Put down your binoculars. It’s not me up there, even though my build does resemble that of a 20-year-old cliff diver.

Another thing that isn’t going to get me is a faulty bungee cord.

This should not surprise you.

I like a good roller coaster from time to time; I don’t think I have ever shied away from an amusement park ride. But I’m not putting my life into the hands of a rubber band which was probably made by a disgruntled worker on his last day down at the bungee cord factory.

Speaking of heights, have you seen the stories about SkyBridge, the longest suspension bridge in North America? It spans 680 feet, which is nearly as long as two football fields including the end zones.

It’s located at Gatlinburg’s SkyLift Park. I could be there in a couple of hours.

But I’m not going. There’s no sense in it. Nobody needs to walk across a swinging-in-the-wind bridge for 680 feet.

Send me a postcard.

I don’t think I will ever fly a plane, either.

I used to think I wanted to, but I believe that wacky notion has left me for good.

I’m pretty sure I could take off, and I know I could keep the thing in the air with some instruction and a little practice.

But I’ll bet that runway looks a postage stamp when you’re trying to hit it just right.

Heck, every time I fly commercially, I am always convinced the pilot has overshot the airport by 10 miles or so, because I never see concrete until right before we touch down.

Obviously, there’s common thread here to all the ways you don’t have to worry about me going to the great beyond.

I plan to stay close to the ground, because I don’t want to rush being 6 feet under it.

About Barry Currin

Barry tries to be funny and poignant, and he's usually satisfied when he succeeds with one or the other. (Being both is awesome. And sometimes that happens.) Email him: currin01@gmail.com

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