Going the other direction is easier. But then, climbing up a tree is never the problem, coming back down is. Just like heading into a cave isn't as hard as heading out.
This is hardly a comforting thought as I'm going the other other direction, that is, the direction that isn't the other direction in our imagined scenario. My chances of getting stuck are very high. I myself am very high—in the altitudinal sense, not in the drug-induced sense, although the latter sounds nice right about now.
“We're going to get you down,” calls a disembodied voice over some unseen loudspeaker.
“Cool,” I call back, not that anyone can hear me.
How did I even get myself into this position? You would think that I'd lived long enough to stop doing stupid stuff, but apparently not. Natural selection should have weeded me out long ago. So hey, at least I'm screwing up Darwin's theory. That's kind of neat.
Should I ask whoever's down there to bring a sandwich? I could go for pastrami on sourdough, lots of spicy mustard, pickle on the side. Wash it down with a German pilsner. Yeah, that sounds good.
A siren rises and falls. Mechanical sounds surround me. They really are coming to get me, hopefully with a sandwich and beer.
The view up here is nice, though. I'll miss it. The sky looks big... not bigger than it does down there because, well, it's the sky. I mean, it looks big everywhere, right?
The treetops seem close enough to touch. In this particular tree, they are close enough to touch, which is kind of cool in its way.
Yeah, I'll miss this. Maybe I'll do it again sometime, just to mess with Darwin some more. Not that he cares. He's dead, after all.