In moving to New York, I discovered something about myself.
I have... an irrational fear of kites.
A couple of years ago I was lounging in Sheeps Meadow in Central Park with some friends, and noticed a kite flying above us. Suddenly my stomach was in knots and I could not tear my eyes away. Pictures of the kite suddenly diving and impaling me would not leave my mind. I just knew that the moment I looked away it would attack.
Several minutes into my dazed obsessive fear my friends noticed my silence. Laughing, they asked why I had suddenly grown so quiet. I motioned to the kite and managed to choke out "I don't know how safe that is."
Mind you, there are hundreds of people spread out over this lawn. That kite crashes and suddenly it is a new yorker skewer.
They laugh, brush it off. Then they start to notice the continuation of my strange behavior, and I had to admit to my sudden overwhelming paranoia. I even started to occasionally cry out a warning when I noticed a sudden swoop. The damn thing eventually landed without incident, but I tell you it was not soon enough.
Since this first incident I have been in many more populated areas with kites. And each and every time I cry out "Ahhhh! Kite!" Yes, my friends laugh. And I stare to the sky incessantly.
They'll thank me when I save their lives.
The History Of Yoga
1 year ago