The controlled fun inside the brightly lighted space counters a wary first impression created by the rutted parking lot and banged-up chain-link fence outside the building. “This is not a trampoline park, it’s a trampoline gym,’’ says owner Bill Young, a trim, bald man who roves the sidelines. “We are more concerned about people than we are about the next dollar. We give instruction and we have rules, and when someone breaks a serious safety rule - for example, no flipping - they have to leave. No exceptions.’’
Young has been running the gym in this quiet town in northeastern Connecticut (about 90 minutes from Boston) for 14 years. Before that he was a physical education instructor and a track-and-field coach, which shows in his no-nonsense manner. “Trampoline is a dangerous activity,’’ he says. “You can survive a broken arm or a dislocated elbow. But if you injure your spinal column, you alter your life and the lives of everyone around you, forever.’’ Consequently, he explains, everyone who comes here, even once, receives instruction and coaching, after signing a strongly worded waiver. “People who come back move through a progression of skills and become more aerially aware of their bodies, and then if they get into trouble they have experience to fall back on.’’
At the appointed time, Young herds the partygoers out and ushers in about 15 people for Friday evening’s two-hour “open gym,’’ the only period each week normally reserved for the general public. (Special events sometimes intervene, and Young advises all potential comers to call in advance.) Other evenings are given over to birthday parties, corporate events, and practice sessions for two trampoline teams, one from the University of Connecticut, one comprising younger athletes.
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