From the Niagara Falls Review:
On a cool September evening last year, a tattooed, scruffy-looking guy named Dean Sullivan hopped the guard rail near the Horseshoe Falls, wrapped a rope around a tree and plunged head first into the mist.
He walked away without a scratch.
Two years ago, he was simply walking across a parking lot when he was clocked by a minivan, requiring 47 stitches across his midriff.
“I put my hands up and went right through the back window.”
He once fell walking up the stairs, splitting his chin open. He broke his back in a motorcycle accident.
It would appear being a “semi-professional” daredevil is actually the safest thing he does.
“That’s what I mean … I’m the unluckiest guy when it comes to anything else,” he says, showing off his assorted scars like Quint in “Jaws.”
“My luck is just unbelievable for things like that. But when it comes to jumping, I have no problems. I don’t know, maybe I’m a klutz.”
I found on Sunday that apparently I know this man’s father. Weird!