No Potter, No Problem

This column originally appeared on Aug. 9, 2009

I have a lawyer acquaintance who jumped out of an airplane last week. Voluntarily. At 14,000 feet. In the air. Understandably, he had a parachute attached to his body, as well as a sky-diving instructor, so the chances that he would end up on the ground in a deceased state of mind were lessened, and he had a good time, especially when the 'chute opened at 5,000 feet (in the air) and he drifted downwards to once again set foot on terra firma.

And I am glad for him that he jumped out of that airplane and got the ride down. He is at an age when the things you always wanted to do before the bucket got kicked are more than just a list in your mind as you drift off to sleep. They actually become goals to achieve and enjoy. He was ecstatic and said so, and I wish him the best.

But frankly, no way.

Jumping out of an airplane is something that I have no intention, desire or hope of doing either now, or as the Grim Reaper is approaching. Jumping out of an airplane to me is like joining in a "tea bag demonstration" is to President Barack Obama. If other people want to do it, go ahead. I'll be in the snack bar.

My acquaintance's achievement, however, did set me to thinking. Not about what I would want to do as the bucket started to quiver and shake and tip a bit to the left, but rather what items are on my personal list of things not to do. Jumping out of an airplane is, somewhat obviously, near the top of the list. But there are other elements to the list that I would like to now state for the record.

First, however, a disclaimer: These are things I don't want to do, but am making no judgment about for others. That is, I am not pointing these non-goals out to cast aspersions on those who would engage in them and find them fun and worthwhile. Live and let live, I say.

No. 1: Visit the Reptile House at the Philadelphia Zoo. Why? Two words, to quote the actor Samuel L. Jackson. "(Expletive) snakes." I understand that there are other reptiles in the Reptile House that are less of a threat to my personal well-being, and I appreciate them. My car insurance is, after all, provided by a company which uses a lizard as its national spokesperson. But when it comes to snakes, I draw the line. Indiana Jones has got nothing on me in the snake department. I once stayed in bed for an entire day because I was convinced that there were snakes underneath it waiting for me to arise. If you want to see something slither, go ahead. I'll be in the Elephant House.

No. 2: Read "Harry Potter." I know, I know. You love him, it's the best literature since Dickens and you'd love to play Quiddich and J.K. Rowlings has brought back reading as a cool thing for young people to do. I just have no desire to find out what a "Half Blood Prince" is. If you want to study the world of wizards at Hogwarts, go ahead. I'll be in the non-fiction section.

No. 3: Attend an Ultimate Fighting Challenge event. It's not that I don't enjoy blood sport every now and again. After all, in my youth I watched Roller Derby games endlessly on UHF television, and even once attended a match featuring the Bay City Bombers at Cincinnati Gardens. (Shout out to Ronnie "Psycho" Rains!) If you want to pay good money to see grown men gnaw each other like so much steak, go ahead. I'll be in the line for Wilco tickets.

No. 4: Drive cross country with state Sen. Andy Dinniman. Not that I don't enjoy the landscape of this beautiful country of ours and would love to share it with a statesman/legislator/politician. But, really. If you want to listen to a four-day dissertation on SB 2742, go ahead. I'll be at the rest area.