My dad and I went on a cruise. He booked the cruise. I booked the excursions. We were set. Until the night before my flight and I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t daunted by the usual dreams of my return plane ticket disintegrating in my pocket, or accidently boarding a plane headed for a country in the midst of a civil war, where I’d find myself under sniper fire, like Hillary.
Nope. I couldn’t sleep because it hit me that our first port of call was to St. Thomas, where we were scheduled to go parasailing. Snorkeling and parasailing were on my dad’s bucket list. I couldn’t back out.
My Myspace friend told me, “I’d never hang from a string in the sky like that!” This came from my bravest friend, Rea, who has successfully stared down a frightening prognosis of cancer that has metastasized in her brain. Brave Rea rocks on.
These are for you, Rea!
Ho, God! Is it too late to change our minds?
The scream heard around the world.
- This string right here, Rea? Is this the string you’re worried about breaking and us plummeting to our deaths? Pshaw!
This was the only plummeting we did. We laughed and screamed and wondered if we go under will we come back up?? How does this work, actually?? Was drowning one of the things we waived on that six page contract before going up?
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