Come Fly With Me
Morning.
I am not a daredevil by any stretch of the imagination, and I certainly have no desire to go skydiving. I took the kids hot air ballooning last summer, but not for the thrills. I did it so they would have something to talk about while their wealthier friends recapped their trips to Europe. I also parasailed once, but I pissed myself when I got up to cruising height (I think 400 feet?). I blamed my accident on an awkwardly cinched harness, but it still ruined the mood for the young ladies on the boat, waiting to go after me.
The reason I bring this up is, I took my middle guy to an indoor skydiving place this week called iFly in scenic Paramus, NJ. It’s something he wanted to try, and we went with a buddy of mine and his son.
I was under the impression we were going to watch the kids dive, but I showed up maybe 10 minutes late and this asshole “buddy” had already signed the 4 of us up for a family package. By the time I walked in , there was a partially filled out waiver waiting for me and we were ready to go, apparently. I balked at first, but my son pleaded. I felt guilty being the only guy not partaking, and this other guy already paid, so I said, “Why the fuck not?”
I don’t normally post YELP reviews (I may have done 3 in the past 10 years), but I thought this type of place lended itself well to that platform, so I am going to share with you now the YELP review I wrote for iFly in Paramus. The review is currently under consideration by the good people at YELP, so this is an exclusive preview for readers of Barstool Finance.


—————————
I went to iFly with a platonic male friend and our grammar school aged sons… So a group of four people.
Plenty of parking, and the place is very easy to get to off of Route 4.
When we entered the place, I noticed right away how spotless the facility was. I don’t know why I would expect garbage to be laying around a place that is centered around a giant leaf-blower, but either way, I was pleasantly surprised with just how immaculate it looked.
The young lady who helped us with the waiver process was very charming (I believe her name was Maya, and she had a nose ring). At first, I thought I was going to be deemed “too gravitationally challenged” for the experience because there was a weight limit of 300 pounds and I had just finished a late lunch. So when Maya had asked me to step on the scale in front of her kiosk, it was the first time I had ever stepped on a scale and hoped to put up a big number. Unfortunately, I was NOT “too fat to fly”, so Maya had me sign both mine and my son’s lives away with a large legal waiver, and we were then ushered into the next room where we would be geared up for the flight.
Maya handed us off to Ben, who would then take us through the rest of the day. Ben gave the other 3 in our party light blue jumpsuits, but then went in the back to pull out an oversized black one for me that I found to be uncomfortable on many levels. First off, the black vs blue color of the suit itself was essentially a scarlet F (fat) on my chest. Secondly, even though my nickname is a not-so-subtle allusion to my almost glandular look, my parameters are deceptively smaller to the eye than one would think. I am 6’5″ tall and 280 pounds fat, and the jumpsuit they gave me wasn’t as accommoding as I would have hoped. It was tight everywhere I didn’t want it to be tight.
I am not fluent in Spanish, but I could swear I heard a Puerto Rican in the group behind me point directly at me and utter “salchica que divide su carcasa”, which loosely translates to “sausage that split its casing.” I was going to throw back a comment involving the term “Spanish Fly”, you know, because he was Spanish and about to fly, but my lack of confidence in that body suit gave me pause.
Anyhoo, Ben geared us up all with helmets, goggles, and jumpsuits. He had us secure all of our worldly possessions in a locker, and then led us into another room where we watched a surprisingly short 4 minute instructional video on how to indoor skydive.
“Any questions?… No?… Let’s fly!”
If any YELP’ers are planning to go to iFly, I strongly recommend you ask for Ben. He has a look that was a tad reminiscent of Hank Azaria’s scuba instructing character in Along Came Polly, which may or may not be a selling point for most, but suffice to say I felt comfy and safe throughout the process in his muscular hands, slim build, and sensual hair.
I’ll attach the actual flight video below, and will tell all potential iFlyers, the time you spend in the chamber itself literally flies by. We each did 3 separate minute-and-a-half flights, and the only reason I was eager to end each of them short was because I felt like my arms were going to rip out of my fucking shoulders. I don’t think “normal” people will have the same experience because my aforementioned size meant that my “wings” were tasked with providing enough lift for what is essentially a 280 pound bag of mayonnaise in a snug black catsuit.
I hope this review so far has been one of positivity, because even though I was hesitant to try this utterly stupid pastime, I walked away happy that I did.
Here’s my only dig.
There is a popular term in the world of pornography called “cuckholding”, which, for the uninitiated YELPer, is a man who willingly encourages his wife to sleep with other people because it brings him pleasure. The term usually comes with a stigma of humiliation, because allowing another guy to ride your bike while you sit on the porch and jerk off is not what most would consider a “valiant effort.”
Kids today have shortened the term of being cuckholded to simply being “cucked”, because we all know how busy young people are, and the trimming of 2 marginally superfluous syllables gives them much more time to play Fortnight.
Back to my dig… No matter how confident you are, when you enter that chamber for the first, second, and third time, you give yourself over to the instructor. You essentially look a strange man named Ben in the eye, and say, “Please keep me safe.”, before leaning forward into a chamber with a jet engine below your feet. Furthermore, Ben is tasked with the unfortunate job of not only keeping you safe, but also afloat… So he has to physically manipulate your body in a way that is reminiscent of watching a marine veterinarian assist a manatee with childbirth.
I haven’t given myself freely to a man since Rikers Island, and I have to admit, I didn’t feel bad about it until I saw myself on video… Ben has his way with my grotesque body, and I can only hover there and watch him do it.
Total cuck.
Before you hit play, you may want to stop eating.
And I don’t need any negative comments on my physique because the “split sausage casing” PR guy summed it up pretty well.
I am going to wrap this review up pretty soon, but I want the takeaway for potential flyers to be this: iFly in Paramus is a safe and clean place to go if you want to add a little excitement in your life.
But be prepared to give up a little bit of your manhood in the process.
And finally, these last 3 words that will follow will mean nothing to you YELPers, but it will mean the world to the dozen or so people who religiously read every other blog I write for Barstool Finance… Take a report.
-Large