Calling Sister Bertrille!

Apparently the latest extreme sport is flying. Like Batman, but without the Batcopter. Just a winglike jumpsuit, helmet and a parachute for a smooth landing.

My exploring buddy sent me a video of guys doing this ... saying I should give it a try. And the very next day, the New York Times runs a story on it, featuring a practitioner of the sport who is planning to do a flight sans parachute, landing on his belly. Two mentions in 24 hours. Must be something to it.

Now, is it just me, or do these guys look like the Flying Nun? You remember her. She was the 90 pound novitiate who discovered that the wacky wimple of her order had special aerodynamic qualities. It would explain why Sally Field is hawking osteoporosis meds: gotta have strong bones to land on your feet from an altitude of 500 feet.

In the interest of disclosure, I've done some skydiving, and had one ill-advised hang-gliding experience, and while the experiences were very, uh, interesting, I think I can say with some certainty that the best thing about having done both is that I can now say I've done them. After the third jump, I decided that I'd tempted fate enough, and maybe I should move on to something else meaningless and stupid. Like sailing from Portmagee to a speck of an island in the Atlantic in a 20 foot fishing boat.

But flying without a chute -- or real wings -- is going way far over the edge. Literally and figuratively. Unless your name is Rocket J. Squirrel.

Some would say that any of it is a bit reckless, but in the hierarchy of foolhardiness, skydiving doesn't even rank. First, it has some useful applications, i.e. surviving a plane wreck, landing behind enemy lines. In practice as an extreme sport, it has its advantages: you know you're headed in one direction -- down, more or less -- and the chute is just there to slow your descent. The necessary skill is the ability to slow down enough from terminal velocity to land without creating a crater.

The actual horizontal-type flying is a bit more dangerous, because you take gravity out of the equation. In other words, wings are there to keep you airborne. The potential for hitting something has just grown to include things you can fly into as well as things you could fall down onto. Danger in 3-D. How appetizing.

Having been affixed to a giant wing and towed to 2000 feet by an ultralight plane (read: giant wing with lawnmower engine and beach chair attached), I have a little insight into what it's like to fly at bird level and see the landscape for miles. It's pretty cool, if the thermals haven't kicked up for the day.

Flying over and next to cliffs is a bit different. Way too much opportunity to do a Wile E. Coyote into a cliff wall. And this guy wants to do it without a parachute, landing belly-first on the ground like a plane with malfunctioning landing gear.

Sorry - I'll pass. Even the video makes me a little oozhy.

It does remind me, though, that I have to schedule something stupid. It's been too long.