I'm a magazine writer who specializes in stories where I put my body in what might seem like harm's way, but usually isn't really harmful, or at least extremely harmful.
Two basic zones involved:
1)actual adventures (done for National Geographic Adventure Magazine in a former column I named "Oddventures" and which included jet skiing across the Bering Sea and being held at gunpoint by teenage roosky soldiers with Kalashnikov's; swimming through a shark feeding frenzy with this electrocution device strapped to my back, which was supposed to repel the sharks and actually did so for less than a second before encouraging them to sweep around and snap at my fins; and setting a personal land speed record on the Bonneville Salt Flats in 71 Mustang into which a Lincoln Continental Engine had been shoe horned in under the hood. Oh, and there was the time I wore a cup and swimming goggles and lay our for days in Chihuahan desert beside two deads calfs obtained at a rendering plant and absolutely blasting the dry air with violin sonds of blowflies, all this to try to get a vulture to land on me.
2) Medical misadventures where I would undergo largely unnecessary procedures, from multiple real and "virtual coloscopies" to hypothermia inducement in the graveyard of the Pacific (got my heart down to 94.7 degrees), attemtps to make a donation to a sperm bank where I got good and bad news. The good: my sperm count at 965,000,000 makes it possible, theoretically at least, to repopulate all of China with one good jolt of product. That bad net: my multiple little swimmers were disqualified for all sorts of reason, from my unfortune heatlh history, participation in risky maneuvers, an unacceptable number of previous sexual partners (it was certainly not unacceptable to me!) and my age--they didn't want men much over mid 30s, if that.
I'm a magazine writer who specializes in stories where I put my body in what might seem like harm's way, but usually isn't really harmful, or at least extremely harmful.
Two basic zones involved:
1)actual adventures (done for National Geographic Adventure Magazine in a former column I named "Oddventures" and which included jet skiing across the Bering Sea and being held at gunpoint by teenage roosky soldiers with Kalashnikov's; swimming through a shark feeding frenzy with this electrocution device strapped to my back, which was supposed to repel the sharks and actually did so for less than a second before encouraging them to sweep around and snap at my fins; and setting a personal land speed record on the Bonneville Salt Flats in 71 Mustang into which a Lincoln Continental Engine had been shoe horned in under the hood. Oh, and there was the time I wore a cup and swimming goggles and lay our for days in Chihuahan desert beside two deads calfs obtained at a rendering plant and absolutely blasting the dry air with violin sonds of blowflies, all this to try to get a vulture to land on me.
2) Medical misadventures where I would undergo largely unnecessary procedures, from multiple real and "virtual coloscopies" to hypothermia inducement in the graveyard of the Pacific (got my heart down to 94.7 degrees), attemtps to make a donation to a sperm bank where I got good and bad news. The good: my sperm count at 965,000,000 makes it possible, theoretically at least, to repopulate all of China with one good jolt of product. That bad net: my multiple little swimmers were disqualified for all sorts of reason, from my unfortune heatlh history, participation in risky maneuvers, an unacceptable number of previous sexual partners (it was certainly not unacceptable to me!) and my age--they didn't want men much over mid 30s, if that.
