The Girl with No Legs

When I was about six years of age, I got in a terrible fight with my friends. I can't remember what the fight was about, but I do remember my retaliation was of leaving my group (because what punishment is bigger than the absence of me?), and choosing instead to spend my recess hours on the monkey bars.

Honestly, who needs friends when you have a series of metal bars to swing on?

Now when I first began the monkey bars, I wasn't that great. Being short for my age I had the disadvantage of not easily doing twosies (this is when you skip two monkey bars instead of one). I also had hyperhidrosis (this is when your hands sweat profusely) and often times I would slip off the bars just doing onesies.

This hindrance didn't bother me too much for I was one to overcome playground games and I had made a "friend." I called her the Girl with No Legs, or No Legs for short.

I called her this for the obvious reason: She had no legs. Her missing legs amazed me because growing up in Sandpoint, ID you rarely saw a person with a deformity. The town had been blessed with extremely attractive people. Well, at least the cuties that ran in my circle. Of course, you had the average inbred kid from the mountains, but I always chose not to look at these mutations and would leave the cafeteria table anytime one of these beasts would sit next to me. These pitiful and vain actions were getting me into some trouble in Sunday School and in my eyes No Legs was the perfect candidate to earn me some brownie points with God.

Of course, I was not the only kid in search of brownie points with the Big Man upstairs. No Legs had two groupies that followed her around everywhere. I had no need to befriend these groupies for two reasons:

One: I was disgusted at their kindness.

Two: I had much better looking friends outside the monkey bar scene.

But No Legs I did befriend in some way. I think she knew my name and she (like I) chose the monkey bars as our only 'true companion'. We had a special kinship for climbing and skipping and performing monkey like behaviors. The only difference between her and I that I could decipher (other than the legs) was she was no amateur on the monkey bars.

To this day I have not met a monkey barrer like No Legs. She could do everything! Twosies, threesies and someone claimed they saw her do a foursies, which was unheard of on playground land. Her arm muscles were rippling for a third grader and instead of spending her life chained to a wheelchair, No Legs walked on her hands. The action was much like a gorilla. No Legs would clinch her hands into a fist and swing from right to left. Her movement wasn't slow. She paced herself at a steady jog, which enabled her to get to her destinations(cafeteria, classroom, home and monkey bars) quite quickly. She found her way of walking to be both invigorating and it helped strengthen her upper body for monkey barring.

Most people haven't spent a lot of time around the monkey bars and don't really understand the practice that goes into the sport. The monkey bars are split into two disciplines: skipping and playing chicken. No legs was a professional at both. When the playground duty wasn't looking the monkey bar gang would play the more dangerous of the disciplines, chicken.

No Legs always went last to fight against the champion minion. And believe me, no minion ever won against No Legs. I don't know how No Legs did it, but she could wrap her stumps around your hips so tight it felt like she was giving them the sleeper hold.

And don't think the other monkey barrers were going half-assed--no Sandpoint, ID kid puts his second leg forward.

As my friends continued to overlook my absences, I continued to become a better and better monkey barrer. I was starting to do twosies and occasionally threesies. Even No Legs was somewhat encouraging. She would give me a callused high-five and a low grunt.

About a month after I had left my friends, my friend,Sarah, came up to me and started to encourage me to come back to the pretty gang. Having short term memory issues, I couldn't remember why I had become so angered by my friends in the first place. I began to miss playing soccer and spying on the older kids kissing in the dugouts. I came to realize it was time for me to leave the monkey bars.

Once I left, No Legs didn't really have anything to do with me. Her life was about being a "great," and friendships weren't that important to her. I didn't really care to stay in contact,either, and it didn't surprise me when No Legs left the school without me noticing.

During my elementary school career, I got in many fights with my friends and chose other playground equipment to take their place, but I'll never forget the monkey bars.

Occasionally when I see a playground set, I think of No Legs and wonder if she still isn't using a wheelchair to walk. I can almost imagine her walking the streets of New York with her callused fists clenched and her angry grunts reverberating down Fifth Ave.

However, I have a feeling she succumbed to the wheelchair.

I have a feeling that society told No Legs long ago that it was unacceptable to walk on her hands.

But I guess I can still hope and wish that No Legs hasn't left her childish ambition behind her. I hope, like me, she is chasing her dream to see the world through different eyes and not the ones society tells her to look through.

Hell, maybe I'll see her passing through the streets of Korea, stumps and all.