Spin Cycle Slalom

Staying cooped up inside after morning drills was getting old, so I sprinted down the street and ducked into the open doors of the corner laundromat. The warm hum of the dryers was practically buzzing in sync with my feet. Up on a long brushed-metal folding table sat an abandoned roll of clear packing tape, standing upright like an open loop. I sprinted across the metal surface, tapped the tape roll into a fast roll with one gloved hand, and raced it neck and neck toward an empty plastic laundry basket. Just before it rolled over the edge, I jumped clean through the rolling center, sticking the landing inside the blue plastic basket with an easy smirk. Flawless aerial clearance.