I live in the city, and I make no apologies for this. I don’t think I need to remind the rest of you urbanites that you’ll see just about anything in larger cities. I live in a town home that’s conveniently located in a complex between the railroad track and some industrial warehouses. One of the warehouses is either a supplier of bouncy houses or they rent them out directly. I don’t know which, I never asked. Every Wednesday morning like clockwork I go outside my house to walk the dog and am confronted by one or more fully inflated bouncy houses peeking over the complex wall. They keep these poor bouncy houses confined in a lot surrounded by barbed wire so they can’t escape. Anybody trying to hoist one over the wall is doomed to bodily injury or a useless, uninflatable bouncy house riddled with holes. It’s difficult to see, but click on the image and it will increase in size enough so you can see them.
That picture shows an unusual morning in that a whopping 4 of them were out for a test drive. If I didn’t have the dog with me I would have popped by and offered to bounce in them for free just to check it out. One of the problems with being an adult is that other, more respectable adults frown upon you if you indulge in a bit of jumping. Aerobics and idiotic stripper/ho workouts are okay. Raiding the kids’ bouncy house and jumping up and down is supposed to be beneath your dignity.
See? That is just the pinnacle of dignity, composure and lack of desire to recapture the supposed glory of your youth. In many cases it’s also a total unfamiliarity with modern architecture and the concept of a “stud” or support beam. It may be a tool issue as well, but let’s not judge, shall we? All I’m saying is that nobody should look askance at me when I wax enthusiastic about climbing in the gigantic polyurethane nightmare and giving it a go rather than standing outside “keeping an eye on things.” Keep the pole, you wannabe ho’s, I’m diving in. Now, all I have to do is convince the neighbors to let me do it for free.