The air smelled like hotdogs from the vendor below on Howard Street. While practicing in the parking garage, I asked my instructors if anyone had ever vomited, peed, cried or passed-out during the descent. They said they’ve only seen a few alligator tears. Little did they know I downed a Red Bull just before my turn and my knees were already starting to buckle.
On top of the building, Spokane looked more beautiful than I remembered. The rusty orange and red brick buildings seemed almost ancient. With some coaxing from the instructors, I made my way over the edge of the roof and then slipped, fell, and splattered against the wall like a bug. I got back up. I tiptoed slowly down the building and searched for a blissful state of nirvana amidst the sunshine and afternoon breeze.
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