The True Story of Rip Van Winkle, by a Gephyrophobic

Photo Credit: edenpictures via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: edenpictures via Compfight cc

I have a different view on Washington Irving’s beloved tale, Rip Van Winkle.

As you probably know  Rip Van Winkle takes place in the glorious Hudson River Valley. Rip, leaves his shrewish wife at home and sets out for the mountains. There he meets some new friends, some of them very short. They all drink too much and go bowling. Then Rip falls asleep for twenty years. He wakes up and discovers he has slept through the entire American Revolution. Bummer.

Now ponder this, “How can anyone sleep for twenty years?

I believe Rip must have drunk a helluva lot of booze to sleep that long. Or, he probably ingested a powerful herbal similar to, let’s say Xanax?

“But why,” you ask, “would Rip need such an herbal?”

The answer is, “He needed the powerful herbal because he was having a panic attack.”

“Why was he having a panic attack,” you may ask.

The answer is “Because he wanted to go with his new friends to the other side of the Hudson River where he learned that there was even better food, partying and outdoor activities.

You wonder, “Why couldn’t Rip go with his buddies to the other side of the Hudson?”

The answer is “Because he was afraid to cross the bridge his buddies had built.”

“Why was he afraid,” you ask.

My answer is, “Because the bridge was swaying and Rip had gephyrophobia, a fear of bridges.”  My theory is Rip ran down to the shore every day to try to get the nerve to cross that damn bridge. He’d start out, take a step and turn back. Then, he’d try again the next day. Then he’d chomp on some of his herbal remedies and probably practice some deep breathing.

One day, he took too many herbs, and his new friends got disgusted with him. They left him on his side of the bridge, for twenty years. Also, they stole his gun and his dog.

Today there really is a bridge across the Hudson River called the Rip Van Winkle Bridge.

There are a few other bridges too…like the George Washington Bridge and The Tappan Zee Bridge. I live close to The Tappan Zee Bridge….note the use of the word ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ…I think it’s secret code to remember Rip’s snooze.

Somebody must have been snoozing when they built The Tappan Zee Bridge because now they have to build it all over again.

I really feel for Rip Van Winkle and his problems because I am a gephyrophobic too. I do drive to “the other side,” but, I never know when “It” the panic attack is going to hit. When “It” attacks, unlike Rip, I power my way through it and then say, “never again.” But that’s the thing about living in the Hudson River Valley; whether you are on the west side or the east side of the Hudson River, you will need to cross over to the other side at different times in your life. For some of us, that can be a challenge, but we persevere.

No one has more sympathy, empathy, or whatever you call it, for others out there who are afraid of driving over bridges, particularly high ones. As the New Tappan Zee Bridge and other bridges are being built in this great country,  let’s share our stories.

 

 

 

 

Heights and Bridges: Going Over the Edge!

Photo Credit: churl via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: churl via Compfight cc

Here is a lovely picture of a big, tall, bridge. Now look up at the big blue sky over the bridge.

Do you see a woman’s head floating around in the big blue sky over the bridge?  The head has dyed brown hair, eyeglasses and a mouth, wide open, screaming.

The head belongs to a woman who is having an out-of-body experience.

The rest of her body is driving (sort of) down there, on the highway on the bridge, three lanes north and three south. The woman’s body is driving south and her car is straddling the center and inside lane. Next to her car, in the outside lane, is a huge tanker truck. Way up in the sky, the woman’s head secretly thanks the tanker for blocking her view of the edge of the bridge. Bridges and their edges make her have panic attacks like she’s having now.

The problem with having panic attacks on bridges and going 11 mph while straddling two lanes in a 50 mph zone, is sometimes other drivers get angry. They line up behind the woman’s car and honk or tailgate. Up in the sky, her head sees them banging on their steering wheels in total frustration, and she feels their pain.

Her head tries to will her body to relax. “Breathe.” she commands her faraway body. “Count to ten. Sing! ‘The farmer in the dell. The f–ker in the dell. Hi ho…’” It’s useless. She can’t get enough air to get the words out.

“This will be the day that I die,” she thinks.

Meanwhile down in her body, her sweaty hands clutch the steering wheel. She prays that her hands won’t slip on the steering wheel and send her over the edge of the bridge. “Over the edge! That’s a funny one.” She’s already over the edge! Up in the sky, her floating head enjoys the irony.

At last it’s over. As her car arrives at the end of the bridge and on to solid road, the woman’s head falls from the sky and reconnects with her neck and the rest of her body. She is spent.

“Never again,” she says. “I will never do this again, as long as I live.”

But she lies.  She still drives on bridges, climbs mountain ledges, and rides up the old wooden rickety escalator at Macy’s to the 7th floor Woman’s Department.

So, if you are in some high place, and next to you  is a wacky pear shaped woman, introduce yourself.

You might hear her say, “Hello. My name is Rose, The Nothing Expert, and I am afraid of lots of things that go up.”

“Welcome Rose,” you might say. “You’re among friends.”