Jetpacks and Pull-Strings

For no particular reason, my friend Rob and I were comparing people to jetpacks one day. I know that sounds odd, but if you’ve ever had a discussion with me…meh. Anyway, I came to the conclusion that if I were a jetpack, I would not be some flashy, cool antigrav job with all the bells and whistles. No, my friends, if I were a jetpack, I’d be of the pull-string variety. I would look like some failed 8th grade science project, cobbled together with forgotten parts from condemned machinery. I would have a lawnmower engine ratchet strapped to rusty corrugated tin and a pull-string that never quite returned to its original position.

Imagine trying to take flight with that strapped to your back. You’d have to depress some modified clutch while simultaneously yanking down on the cord and it would slowly rumble to life; a few putters and stalls before it actually started running. You would experience a few halting moments of ascension (and a few terrifying drops) before you finally achieved any appreciable elevation. Once it was going, though, once you were really up there and the engine had found its pace, you’d be flying. Not as quick as you’d like, but by God, it would get you there. For certain, you would not be a majestic creature of grace, swooping along and buzzing the towers, but you would be an autonomous unit of aeronautical daring. Perhaps that’s enough.

As a person, you may not have access to the money or resources to climb into some prefabricated, luxury jetpack. You may not be able to punch a button on your wrist and have wings pop out as you scream, “To infinity and beyond.” A high tech, super bad ass propulsion system may not be within your grasp, but that doesn’t have to keep you from flying.

I’m reminded of the story of Larry Walters, or “Lawnchair Larry”. Do you remember that guy? He strapped all of those helium balloons to his patio chair and ended up flying into the controlled airspace over LA International. He didn’t have all of the money or resources of Boeing or NASA, but he did fly. That guy is a fucking hero. He let no man and no thing stand in the way of his dreams. We could all learn something there.

Don’t throw any of that Icarus bullshit at me either. Yeah, he failed. The guy came crashing down into the ocean and died. But he did fly. For a few brief moments, he was uninhibited and free. I guarantee he died happy. He accomplished something that no one else had and the lesson to that story is: know what you’re working with. You may not be able to enter a barn storming contest with a pull-string jetpack, but that doesn’t have to keep you grounded.

So often, we limit ourselves and our ascension to greater heights by looking to others instead of within. We look at the Jones’ flying around in their brand new, top of the line, luxury packs and bemoan our own existence. How many times have you shoved your hands into your pockets and walked away, head down and shoulders slumped, kicking rocks in frustration? It doesn’t have to be that way. Take what you have (even if it’s a dozen failed attempts at something else) and piece together your own jetpack. You control your own destiny and while a comfortable journey may be nice, it’s not a necessity. We are all only limited by our own expectations.

So, yeah, if I were a jetpack, I’d be the pull-string variety, but my ass would be flying. Why are you watching me from the ground?