Youngest grandson's birthday upcoming, and his party, mostly family and a friend from school, was held early at one of those trampoline centers. If you haven't seen these, it's a big warehouse with assorted kiosks containing like twenty small trampolines, bounded by more trampolines angled up around the perimeter, pads between them. The kids can, literally, bounce off the walls.
It has been awhile since I bounced on a trampoline, and it was, um, harder than I remembered.
Yeah, yeah, part of this is because, well, it's been a while, and I am not used to sproinging up and down for an hour. Part of it is because is actually is harder. The bedroom-sized trampolines upon which I played as a teen were more efficient; they had better (and more) springs. Back in the day, these were rubber, and they would allow for much more height.
The trampolines at the indoor center have been dialed down, so as to keep the kids from going over the retaining walls and into low orbit. Or maybe to keep grampaw from saying, "Hey, I used to do this all the time! Watch this!" and throwing that long-gone double-back and landing on his head ...
Down the ramp from the arena in which we hopped like demented kangaroos was a large fan, blasting away. After an hour, my legs exhausted and heat coming off me as if I were a barbecue grill, I understood why the fan was there as I stood in front of it ...
There were also rope swings that let you fly and fall into a pit full of big foam blocks, and, of course, video games. You could get a drink and junk food up front, and I had a fine ole time, albeit I am passing sore two days later.
What was really fun was to see my grandchildren, only one of whom is any kind of outdoor-sports oriented, actually exercising and enjoying it.
Six kids, with adult helpers, and a special rate, twenty bucks for all of us. Such a deal.