Once in the first grade I had this stellar plan to fly. I discovered the swings at the playground. It was such an amazing feel to get yourself up off the ground. It was the first thing I would go to during recess. In fact, others felt the same way. I remember there were lines waiting for those 14 swings. That is how awesome they are. One day while in class the idea came into my head that maybe - just maybe if I swung hard enough and jumped while in mid-air, I could fly. That afternoon when I went home, I went to my desk and drew up a plan with charts and graphs showing how I could accomplish that. Out of play-doh I modeled a mock-up to test the physics and parameters of my flight. I remember making made up math symbols to give the impression that I knew what I was doing. I demonstrated my proposal to my parents and laid it out in plain text what my goals and objectives were. They agreed and concurred with my plan. That night I laid there thinking about the mission already accomplished and where I would fly to. I thought of flying around the soccer fields and then to my house. Or maybe even the to the 7-11. The possibilities were endless! So the next day at the playground I got ready and chose my swing. I even imagined a NASA launch pad countdown then started to pump my legs slowly ascending higher. I eventually reached as high as I could go. Then I ejected out of my seat expecting to soar ahead, instead I was up in the air for a good half second then quickly dropped maybe moving forward a couple of inches. Where did I go wrong? I was supposed to have glided through the open air and explore the world, but in reality I fell right in place. I must have miscalculated one of my equations or something.
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