I don’t think that a fall off a three-story building would kill you. I mean, it seems like it would hurt, but you’d probably survive. What about a four-story building? I think it’s pretty clear that you would break your legs, and most likely get knocked out, but would you die?
All things being equal, assuming you don’t have any special stunt training, and that don’t land on your head or neck, a fall from how many floors would always be fatal? I say six. What say you?
Ther’ve been freak cases where 30-floor falls failed to kill people, so I don’t believe any rule applies. Or maybe that was in an episode of Lost. Feel free to use the contraction I invented.
I think that was on Lost. Also I think that contraction already exists, but its proper form is “there’ve.” Nope, I guess not. There’s a red squiggly line underneath it. Congratulations, you are a linguistic pioneer.
I think even two stories can kill you. Maybe not immediately, but from complications from the fall. My uncle fell from a tree once, and though he didn’t die, he was in the hospital forever, and well, he’s never been the same. That damn tree was pretty small. I’m sure it would have been fatal if it were any taller.
I don’t know, I was walking past a two story building this morning, and this may be delusional, but I was pretty damn sure I could have jumped off it. I mean, ideally I would land on grass and land in a roll.
But, I have a few pressing questions:
1) Did your uncle land on his head?
2) What the hell was your uncle doing in the tree?
Um, he landed on his back. And he was cutting branches, I think. Actually, he’s legally blind, so he shouldn’t have been in a tree in the first place. But yeah, if I remember correctly he was just doing super yard work. I live in a two story duplex and I’m almost sure I wouldn’t survive a jump. But maybe that’s because I’m a weakling. I think gallons of milk are heavy.
Also, I suppose if you jump off a two story building you have a better chance of surviving than if you fall. You’d probably be more likely to maneuver your way to safety (trying to roll, putting your arms out, etc.) if you weren’t caught off guard.
30 floors? Were they on the fucking moon, David?
They bounced off of an awning and into a passing marshmallow delivery truck.
By “30 stories” he meant that the dude fel off of a single Choose Your Own Adventure Book.