Death drop
I keep thinking about two words that my partner Ranko said to me last night: “Death Drop.”
He’s thinking about ending our Dancing With The Forsyth County Stars performance with one.
Yikes!
When he mentioned the idea to me, I nodded blankly, if a bit hesitantly. I trust Ranko. And besides, I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant.
Now I know. I spent some quality time with YouTube while eating lunch at my desk today ... and I’m nervous.
A death drop is when your partner takes you by the hands and literally drops you almost to the floor. You end up with your back parallel to the ground. Hopefully a few inches above it.
It looks scary. And I’m not sure I can do it.
I’ve always had a fear of falling. And I hate making anyone else bear my weight (a fear borne of being overweight for most of my life).
I’m not afraid of Ranko dropping me. He knows what he’s doing, and he wouldn’t put me in danger. (Not like Mario Lopez, who drops Karina Smirnoff during a death drop on one of the Dancing With the Stars videos on YouTube.)
But I’m scared anyway. It’s the kind of fear you feel at an amusement park, when your mind knows that you’re probably perfectly safe, but your heart races anyway as the roller coaster nears the top of that first big hill.
I hope I’ll be able to overcome this and give it a try. Part of the fun of this competition is pushing myself to do things I wouldn’t normally do.
And this is most definitely something I wouldn’t normally do.
Wish me luck.