My Birthday Wish

If I had one wish, any wish, it would be for the end of human suffering. I would wish for a world in which peace and good-will prevailed, in perpetuity, over war, famine, and pestilence. A world in which people of all shapes, colours and sizes could come together in harmony to hold hands, pet kittens, and sing American folk-songs in rounds. At night, everyone would gather around a campfire to toast marshmallows for smores, and banter about the good times past and even better times to come. In the mornings, the children would run off to play "red rover," the teenagers would run off to play "find the tomato," and the adults, both fat and skinny, would play "hide the monkey" in tents. Everyone would be happy, and everyone would be free.

Aw fuck, who am I kidding? If I really only had one wish, it would be that I were a billionaire retiree, surrounded at all times by any combination of Angelina Jolie, Josie Maran, Katie Holmes, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and model Kim Smith. Don't fault me for lack of imagination in the "wish department." (1) While "a billion dollars" and a "harem of hot women" (and Abdul-Jabbar) may not sound so innovative to you, trust me--I can think of hundreds of creative things I would do with them once they were mine (most of which do not involve Jabbar, believe it or not).

Unfortunately, this wish is not going to come true any time soon (i.e. within the month). I'm a realist, and am keenly aware of my "jewish" nose and lack of business acumen. So it'll likely be some time until John Voight's daughter and Tom Cruise's contractually bound fiancee take turns sitting on my face in a jaccuzzi filled with $50 bills. Despite this harsh reality, there is a part of me that remains a dreamer--albeit a dreamer in a more realistic fashion. And yes, I do have a "dream," of sorts," and one that I don't believe should be as difficult to bring to fruition as it has thus far proven to be. My dream: to once again be able to Pole Vault.

As I've mentioned countless times on this site, when I was in high school, I was a pole vaulter. Yes, that's right, a pole vaulter. Don't all laugh at once. Are you settled? No? Okay, take a moment . . . Has it sunk in finally? Yes? Ok, good. Read on, then.

Some are you are likely wondering how in the world I became a pole vaulter. Well, for your information, it was not because I wasn't good enough at any other legitimate sports. Wait, no, my mistake. That is the reason. My bad. Where were we? Oh yes--freshman year, I joined the school track team, to run the 400, 800 and 1600 meter races. While I was decent at the latter two--in each, my times were nothing to laugh at, and in each race, I always ended up finishing towards the end of the middle pack--by no means was I exemplary. The 400, however, was another story. In that race my times were something to laugh at--and believe me, people did. After half a season of mediocrity, and having grown tired of being picked on by guys I knew would never graduate high school and would end up working 15 hour days in dead-end jobs bagging groceries, I decided that enough was enough. It was time to try something new. From a distance, I had been watching the pole vaulters throughout the season. And while pole vaulting looked like it was extremely difficult, it also looked like a tremendous amount of fun. At least the vaulters looked like they were having fun, anyway. Soon thereafter, I learned that most of the vaulters were perpetually stoned out of their minds. But hey, fun is fun, right? (2)

So with the coach's blessing, I took on the pole vault. And while I was by no means a natural, I worked hard both in and off-season to train, and by my senior year, had actually gotten quite good at it. More importantly, however, I simply loved doing it. While it may seem like a strange sport--and when you think about it, it really is--it is just too fun and challenging for that to matter. The goal, of course, is to propel yourself as high in the air as possible. So basically, it is school sponsored flying. And that's the sensation you experience--flying--if only for an instant, when you let go of your pole and soar over the crossbar before you fall back to earth and into the pits.

While in high school, I thought about vaulting almost as often as I thought about heterosexual buggery with any number of the trashy Italian birds in my class. During the season, my hours in class were spent sketching vaulting pictures, which was an exercise our coach taught us as a means by which to visualize the various individual movements (34 in total) necessary for a successful vault. And of course, my hours at the track were filled with as many jumps as I could get in, knowing full well that once my senior year was over, so too was my vaulting career.

That said, at only 18 years of age, it didn't strike me that I would never again get the chance to vault. Well, here I am, 10 years later, and not one jump the wiser. Despite this fact, I still think (some might even say fantasize) about vaulting all the time--at least once a day, if not more. And every few months, I scour the internet in search of public pole vaulting facilities in the New York metropolitan area. And to this day, I've yet to find any. This, quite frankly, boggles my mind. I mean sure, pole vaulting isn't exactly a "mainstream" sport, but then again, neither is "Trapeze," and there's a whole Trapeze set-up on the West-Side highway. And so what if I could probably count the number of people in Manhattan who know how to vault on my right hand (gotta keep the left one free, of course), and that it's an extremely difficult sport to pick-up, much-less master. And sure, vaulting facilities and gear can cost tens of thousands of dollars, and the premiums for vaulting liability coverage are likely even greater. And then there's whole "risk of death or paralysis" that inevitably comes with a sport in which you propel yourself through mid-air on a fiberglass pole. But still, are these such insurmountable hurdles that the non-existent NYC pole vaulting lobby hasn't been able to overcome? It would seem that the answer is "yes," as we (read: I) still don't have a public pole vault park for the public to enjoy.

If I do indeed live to see my upcoming 28th birthday (a big "if," might I add--see
"51 Weeks Down, 1 Week To Go" ), nothing would make me happier than a romp in the hay with Katie Holmes (or any of the other lovely ladies listed above). But since that's not likely to be on the menu, and in fact, there's not likely to be any menu at all, I'll settle for a few hours down at a track, with the wind in my hair, and a pole in my hands. And hopefully, it won't be like that time a few years ago, when I was at the Meadowlands and that old man barged in on me while I was in the handicapped stall and tried to have his way with me . No, this time, hopefully, I'll be pole vaulting.

So if you know of any place in the City (preferably in Manhattan) where I can use or rent out vaulting facilities--even for just a few hours--I would be eternally greatful, and would even considering taking you out for a meal, on me, at Chipolte (limited, however, to one burrito, because that's all those coupons for free burritos that they give out at the Knicks games will allow for, and I don't want to pay for yours. I will, however, pay "out the arse" to rent vaulting facilities). If you know of any such place, or just feel like berating me for being such a knobhead, feel free to email me at thisplaceisdeadanywayguy@gmail.com. Come on and make a birthday wish come true!



(1) Incidentally, does anyone know how I can get a job in this "wish department." Sounds like a good gig to me.

(2) Well, yes and no. Sure, "playing pac-man" is fun, but it's not nearly as fun as attending a late night "sexy party."