The Edge

Night starts falling on the desert like oil down a pane of glass. My brother Tony and I keep each other from falling asleep in the van, all the while driving down some road longer and straighter than the equator. We’re in Arizona, and it’s almost time to park the van to sleep for the night. I start watching for rest area signs, and realize that we’re near the Grand Canyon. Tony's never seen the canyon, and I remember the bathrooms having been clean, so we decide to stop. That’s all the reason we need to justify going out of our way.

I start telling Tony about the canyon and it’s grandeur-- about the seemingly endless expanse of red rock, the deep-breathe depths, and the environmental impact of impeding smog. Tony and I like to teach each other things, even if we’ve got to improvise the details. In our minds, we know everything...

Entering Grand Canyon National Park, I guide Tony towards a parking lot I’m familiar with. He kills the engine, we unpack some boxes, and then I walk him to a guard rail several yards from our van.

“Look out there,” I tell him.

“Where?”

“Right there. That’s the Grand Canyon.”

"OK..."

Though he doesn’t know it yet, he’s standing on the edge of a cliff that in the daylight would have made him shit his pants. Tony’s afraid of heights...  We return to the van and share a can of cold refried beans. I try and explain to Tony that he was standing on the edge of the world, but I don‘t think he‘ll understand until daylight. So, we finish our beans, wash our faces with a bottle of water, and sleep.

The next morning, Tony’s already out exploring when I wake. I crawl from my sweat soaked sleeping bag and join him on the edge. In underwear and flip-flops, we must be as bold and beautiful as the canyon itself, because flocks of tourists turn and take pictures of us.  I pull Tony back to the van, and we put our clothes on. We’re going to jog outside of the tourist zone, where there aren’t any restraining rails.

As we jog, Tony films me on our video camera. I dart towards the edge of the canyon, stop on a dime and feign fault. Each time, fully convinced that I’m seconds away from a fatal fall, Tony screams and drops the camera. I just laugh and use as many different variations of the word “vagina” on him as I can think up. Around the bend, I see a remarkably precarious rock formation, and I speed off towards it.

It's a thin, flat, triangular rock slab balancing atop an infinitely high, slightly concaved peninsula-shaped cliff.  I walk out towards the edge, and feel the blood draining from my extremities. I’m not afraid of heights, but this isn’t height, this is really, really, really fucking high… I grab a rock and toss it off the edge. I lose count before it hit’s the bottom. It’s a long way down. Tony is screaming at me from a safe distance, and I tell him that I’ve got an idea.

“No ideas. No stunts. No jokes," he says, and I can tell he means it.

“Calm down, Tony. I need you to film this.”

“I’m not filming it.”

“Film it, damnit!”

“I’m not filming it!” he screams.

“Film it or I’ll do it twice,” I tell him, and he starts filming, all the while telling me not do whatever it is that he didn’t know I was about to do. And then, I do it.

I walk to the edge of the Grand Canyon, and stand with my back to it. I reach down, grab onto the rock and throw the rest of my body over the edge. Tony screams, and then his echo screams back and I’m surrounded by his terror. I start to become worried myself, and as I hang by my fingertips on the edge of the Grand Canyon I think for a moment that I’m going to die.

“You’re a fucking idiot!” Tony yells.

“Yeah I am,” I reply, not really hearing him over the chatter of voices in my head.

“This is really stupid!”

“Yeah it is,” My responses flow from my mouth mechanically. I’m on autopilot.

I look down at my legs dangling. A redwood tree on the canyon floor below becomes a blade of grass. Rocks and debris I’ve kicked free from the wall tumble and chatter like teeth, and hawks fly by at eye level inside the canyon walls. I look up to Tony, and seeing that he’s got it on film, I smile, regain focus and pull my body back up from the edge.

I’m overcome with adrenaline and euphoria. I say something about appreciating life, and start running around in circles, cheering and smiling. Tony looks as if he’s just crapped his soul out, and is now being forced to eat it down with a spoon.

We jog back to the car, pack our stuff and start driving towards the next town. As we drive, the gravity of the situation weighs on me, and I play the tape on repeat to maintain my feeling of triumph. Whether or not it was a good idea, I can always tell the story about that time I hung by my fingers atop the Grand Canyon, and that’s what living on the edge is all about.