So, I'm standing on the edge of a bridge looking all poised to take a leap when a well-meaning woman approaches me and says “Excuse me, but what do you think you're doing?”
Seeing her obvious concern I assured her I was not suicidal. “I'm going to fly.”
At this, her distress grew greater still. “But people can't fly...”
I gave her a pitying sidelong look. “No disrespect, ma’am but I'm not a sheep. Just because everyone else believes that people can’t fly doesn’t mean I’m just going to sit back and take their word for it. Wasn’t so long ago that everyone knew the Earth was flat or that God created the world in six days. Way I see it, why can’t people be wrong about flight.”
This speech widened the woman’s eyes and struck her nearly silent. In place of attempting to pacify me with words, she stepped over the railing to stand beside me. She stared and cleared her throat and tried again. “Son, you can’t fly. If you jump off this bridge, you will die.”
I shrugged. “I’ve yet to see with my own two eyes that a human being is incapable of flight and I’m the kind of person who thinks seeing is—”
My thought was cut short when the well-meaning woman lost her footing and tumbled off the edge of the bridge. Something about the way she hit the water suggested to me that maybe people really were incapable of flight.
“Well shit.”
This is the kinda thing that happens when I'm allowed to daydream. There's probably some kind of commentary on my psychological state in this story somewhere but I'm not willing to find it.
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