The Backflip Bet
Last Friday I went to Happy Hour at the Royal Exchange in downtown San Francisco to meet a girl who was a friend of mine in college. She happened to be a volleyball player. She brought a VERY hot girlfriend with her who used to be a track runner at a different school. So, for the rest of the night, I jokingly would only refer to as “Flash Gordon.”
We had several rounds of drinks, a few laughs, and eventually the conversation turned to how my friend and I met, at which point I explained we were both athletes and the same college. This kicked off the following conversation.
Flash: “YOU were an athlete? What was your sport?”
I hesitated to reply, telegraphing that I might be concocting a fabrication, then answered the first thing that came to mind:
Flash: “Wait, you were a gymnast? Ha! That’s a fucking lie if I ever heard one.”
Mean Joe: “True story.”
Flash: “Yeah right! NO ONE was ever actually a gymnast. They’re only in like Russia and China. Good one though.”
Flash: “Riiiiiiiiiight. You’re fucking hilarious. GYMNAST! HAHAHAHA!”
Flash: “Well, you’re built. And short. But I don’t believe you for a second. NO ONE was actually ever a gymnast. Did they have midget wrestling at your school? THAT I would believe.”
Mean Joe: “Wanna bet?”
Flash: “How can we bet on this? Want me to Google you, so we can see you’re lying?”
Mean Joe: “Even better. I’ll do a backflip right here in the bar.”
Flash: “Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous. Just drop this whole thing. You’re so full of shit.”
Flash: “I’ll take that bet. I’ll bet anything you want. You’re just being an idiot now.”
Mean Joe: “Anything?”
Flash: “Suuuure. Why not.”
Mean Joe: “Okay Flash Gordon. How about this. If I do a back flip right here, you have to show me your boobs.”
Flash: “HA! Fine! There’s no way dude. Bet accepted. Oh, and when you DON’T do one, you have to buy all my drinks for the rest of the night. Plus dinner.”
Mean Joe: “Done. Shake on it.”
We shook hands. Flash Gordon continued to laugh at me sarcastically. I put down my beer, and moved a few bar stools to clear out a big enough space.
What many of you know, and what Flash CLEARLY didn’t, is that I actually was a nationally ranked, Division-1 gymnast. I’ve been doing backflips since I was 7 years old, and can basically do them in my sleep. Sober, or black-out drunk.
And so, I took a deep breath, concentrated for a quick second, then turned and gave Flash a smirk, and winked at her as if to say, “You got me!” And then I sprung a standing back flip right there in the bar. Stuck landing, by the way.
Flash was blown away. Utterly speechless. She just stood there with her mouth hanging wide open and looking confused.
Mean Joe: “All American. No big deal. ”
Mean Joe: “Well, a bet’s a bet. Please…remove your shirt!”
Flash: “But I…but…no I can’t…you…but…”
Mean Joe: “No, no, no! You shook on it! That bet was legit. You can’t welch. You’ve got to keep your end of the deal.”
Flash (with a sigh): “Ugh. FINE! Just come downstairs to the bathrooms and I’ll show you.
We walked directly downstairs. Flash then revealed her breasts for a ten-second, personal viewing session. And yes, they were OUTSTANDING. Then, all wagers now squared away (rounded really) we returned to the bar to continue drinking.
I never realized the back flip was such an amazing asset. The concept of “back flip for boobs” is one of the most brilliant things I’ve ever come up with. I plan on working this into my repertoire on a regular basis.
I think the most fun part of the story is the brief conversation we had downstairs in the bathroom right before Flash pulled up her shirt.
Flash: “Okay. I’ll show you. BUT…You HAVE to promise me you won’t tell ANYONE, okay?”
In my defense, we never shook on that agreement.