Why Flying Squirrel is the ultimate adult trampoline park (and a terrible place for flannel)

I consider myself an active person. I regularly lift weights. I jog. I have three young kids (which means I have a lot of experience running up and down the stairs to break up fights and deliver emergency snacks). I also recently carried all my groceries inside the house in a single trip without slipping on my icy steps. But nothing could have prepared me for the full-body workout that awaited me at Flying Squirrel, Winnipeg’s best indoor trampoline park. And to make matters worse? I made a series of rookie mistakes that turned my fun adult trampoline park outing into a lesson in survival.

 

Flying Squirrel Mistake #1: I Dressed Like I Was Going to a Cabin, Not a Trampoline Park

It was winter. I made an assumption—a fatal assumption—that trampolining would be a casual activity. A little bouncing, a little nostalgia, maybe some light cardio at best. No big deal, right?

So I wore jeans and a flannel shirt.

I stepped into Flying Squirrel, a trampoline park for adults and kids, took one look at the endless trampolines stretching out before me, and immediately realized my miscalculation. This wasn’t some quaint little bounce house for toddlers. This was a full-scale, high-intensity, gravity-defying playground.

And yet, there I stood—fully insulated like I was about to spend six hours chopping firewood in the Canadian wilderness.

Within seconds of my first bounce, I knew I was in trouble. The jeans, which had seemed perfectly fine in the car, suddenly transformed into a denim straightjacket for my legs. Every jump constricted them further, like a boa constrictor slowly squeezing the mobility out of my limbs. My flannel shirt, designed for cozy nights by the TV, became a personal sauna, trapping every ounce of heat my body was desperately trying to release.

 

Flying Squirrel Mistake #2: Thinking I Was in Better Shape Than I Am

Jumping on a trampoline as an adult is nothing like you remember.

Your legs betray you instantly. Your core realizes it is not “engaged” as often as it should be.

My jeans? They clung to me like my puppy during bathtime.

Every bounce seemed to pull them tighter and tighter until I had the range of motion of a 90-year-old man wearing a wetsuit two sizes too small.

 

Flying Squirrel Mistake #3: Thinking I Could “Casually” Bounce

The thing about Flying Squirrel is that it’s not just about bouncing. Sure, you can try to keep it low-key, but the moment you step onto the trampolines, something primal takes over. You see the slam dunk courts. You see the dodgeball arena. You see the giant stunt jump airbag. And suddenly, you’re not a responsible adult anymore—you’re an eight-year-old with something to prove.

I started bouncing with my kids, keeping pace for the first few minutes. Then we made our way to the indoor rock climbing wall. Then to the slackline. Then to the rope swing.

After about twenty minutes, I was drenched in sweat and laughing between ragged breaths, fully immersed in the moment.

 

A Reality Check

By the time I left, my legs felt like overcooked spaghetti, and I had gained a deep appreciation for anyone who can dominate trampoline dodgeball without needing a water break.

Would I go again? Absolutely.

Would I tell every adult to try an adult trampoline park at least once? Without a doubt.

Would I recommend heavy flannel attire? No, I would not.

Flying Squirrel isn’t just for kids—it’s a workout, a thrill, and a reminder that adults need playtime too. Just be smarter than me and dress accordingly.