Holy shit. My palms are sweating. Some people, man. Like when I want to get a rush of adrenaline, I’ll cross the street on a “Don’t Walk” signal or text an ex-girlfriend or cocaine. But to put myself in a scenario where one westwardly wind would turn me into hieroglyphics all for a cheap thrill, is something I try to avoid in my daily life. Partly because I’d surely fuck it up by texting or something mid-flight and partly because I have the shitty health insurance. Like if I got a paper cut, it would be cheaper for me to just cut my finger off rather than throw on a band-aid.
Call me a Beta male or just self-aware but this dude is absolutely insane for launching himself through a six-foot crevice at blazing speeds. Like there’s no amount of preparation that could convince me that I wouldn’t pancake myself into the red rocks and have my loved ones watch the footage at my funeral. That’s what makes this equally as befuddling and downright entertaining. More power to ya, bro. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get my daily adrenaline fix by calling the local chinese joint and telling them that I ran out of toilet paper in their bathroom stall. That’s some renegade shit right there #yolo.