Glenna, the good Cop . . .

[Nick_D]

Glenna, the Good Cop . . .

It’s cold, as the winds rolls off the bay, but excitement is making me shiver. The street is dark and deserted except for the girl sitting on the steps of the Tat Parlor at 3 in the morning. I pass her, and her eyes seem dead, and only her head follows my shadow. I crouch in the darkness at the fence. I’d been caught here twice before. The building is tall but its footprint is small. The smaller the perimeter, the slacker the guards can be and still see you.

Both times I just walked away after, “Hey you!.”

I don’t like using the usual excuses anymore, “Oh, I’m a photographer, you know, stock stuff, and I just wanted to climb up a few floors and shoot the skyline, “ or, “Hey brother, I’m only homeless and looking for a place to sleep.” I don’t like using them as I am the former and still might someday be the latter.

Jakey comes up behind me (not his real name) with, “I think he just boosted that,” as the first car we’d seen, comes slowly up the block. A diversion made to order.

“Soon as he passes,” he said.

“Soon as he passes.” I said.

The fences surrounding construction sites are always rickety and I roll into the darkness hoping the clamor of my going over it would stop. Looking up I notice some progress as the glass is higher but the top third is still only steel. “Look out,” Jakey whispers, “here he comes.”

Movement is the big sin in the dark so I make like a sack of cement and he walked right by me.

“Man,” Jakey says, “where’d you learn to climb a fence?”

“New York City, but I was younger then.”

We both hit the stairwell running and didn’t stop until reaching the sixth floor.

We were in . . .

Buildings under construction are dangerous places during the day but at night they are treacherous. Stairs and floors end without warning here. The last dark doorway you walk through can be an empty elevator shaft. We stopped to check the wind.

No wind is best, of course, but there’s always wind at this place. We see it sweep across the city like water rushing over rocks in a stream. The rule is always jump where the wind, if it all goes awry, blows you into something good. Except there’s nothing good down there. It’s all pointy and hard and you have to land right there or nowhere and I see again the beauty, and the danger, of urban parachuting.

Not being able to run anymore gets me first off and less likely to be seen or chased. Climbing over and standing on the edge is when getting arrested fades into oblivion and the compulsion not to get killed kicks in. It’s that calm that comes from knowing you’re going.

I fly until I pitch and stifle a yahoo as I look up at a canopy with all its fingers and toes and it’s all going the right way. With my gear stashed I watch Jakey come down laughing and we drive off still really standing there on the edge until the red lights hit us and we meet Glenna (not her real name) the Policeperson.

“What’s that under the back seat?” She’s strikingly beautiful and armed and as we fumbled coming up with Ma’am instead of Sir, Jakey says, “It’s my sleeping bag.”

“Do you two know every cop in town is looking for this blue Jeep?” She smiled and we both started liking her as she told us, “stay here a half hour and the shift will change.”

She went back to her police car and said before she got in, “That was the coolest thing I ever saw.”

BASE Jumping is not a Crime . . .

Nick
BASE 194

[imported_badenhop]

Thanks Nick.

Something similar, yet altogether different, from '95.......

The usual suspects showed up for a full moon on the bay,
and there we were, enjoying the view, looking down at the
brewery from 450', we'd be in the door in a couple minutes.
It was my 12th time, and they finally let me go first!
I had the key, and no one ever wanted to get locked on.
But that night the weather was perfect, no doubt we were all going.
So off I go, then "Ned", then "Jethro" and finally Seth, RIP.
At the first SHWACK!, the seagulls start in, and with each
additional crack, they get fussier and fussier.
I touch down, then the next, then the next, but Seth has
a 90 right, and is headed out to sea, "Uh oh" I think out loud.
It comes around, but not quite soon enough, he can't make land.
Crap, he's in the water, so the hiding is over.
Having the dubious honor of H2O #1 from the object,
I know how cold it is, and how difficult to get out as well.
So three of us drop our gear, right in the bird turds,
and run to the rescue, and there's really no being quiet about it.
The 'roof crew' is freaking, and "WHAT IS THE CURRENT DOING!!"?
Suddenly, BAM! the fireboat spotlight fires up, lights us up,
then it finds our target in the water, Seth is all lit up.
He's not too scared, but not too happy either,
the jig was up, we'd had an audience, and it had a badge.
Fortunately, he's close enough for a human chain to reach,
and we manage to haul him up on the pier.
"Now run you guys" he says, "I'll take the bust, you guys bail".
We stay to make sure he's one hundred percent.
We are sure the next thing we'll hear is a siren,
the firemen are sure to call the cops, but no,
as soon as we have him safely out of the water,
including having the tangled mess of canopy, lines, bridle and all,
firechief "Bob" turns the light off, and shuffles back into his hut.
"Well"?
"Um, lets just cruise out of here"........
So we double step to the fence, scale it, and head for the brewery.
A couple minutes turned to twenty, but all was well.
We kept watching across the street.....
"What do you think.....?"
"I dunno, what do you think.....?"
"Hmmmmmmm".
"Cheers!"
It took us a couple months to get up the nerve to go back,
in fact we kept going back for a couple years, 21 flicks for me.
28 BASE Jumpers get to enjoy it before the pier is torn down.
Every time I felt I was being watched, I guess sitting
around waiting for something to burn would get old,
and we must have been some kind of entertainment.

BASE Jumping is not a crime...

Avery
BASE 396