Tag Archives: adventure

September 30, 2011 · 4:30 PM

Rocket Woman

Last night some of my coworkers and I went to an indoor skydiving facility called iFly Seattle.

All I have are two words: Mind. Blown.

I have always wanted to go skydiving but that little detail about possible death has held me back for some reason.  So when Mike told me that one of his clients had just built an indoor skydiving facility where the rate of death is 0%, I was intrigued.  Then one of my coworkers, who has gone skydiving before, suggested it as a team-building activity, and I jumped (but not out of a plane) at the chance.

We arrived at the building having no idea what to expect.   We didn’t even completely understand how it worked — a tunnel of air?  That can hold up a person?  And that person doesn’t die?

We checked in and sat in a little classroom for a ten minute lesson on how to position our bodies in the wind, how to read the instructor’s hand signals, and that no, somersaults are not allowed for beginners.

Then came the this-is-becoming-real part: the flight suits.   We were each fitted with a surprisingly comfortable jumpsuit and then told to put earplugs in our ears.

This should not have been difficult.  I put them in and felt like they were set when the instructor walked over to me, looked at each of my ears, and then said, “No.  These will fall out.”  He took them out, rolled them tight, pulled my ear away from my head and jammed the earplug so far in I swear it touched the back of my eye.

After that, I was legally deaf.

Helmets were passed out, goggles were strapped on our faces, and we were finally ready — to be Team America, apparently:

Since one of my teammates had skydived before, we graciously allowed him to lead us into the unknown.  The instructor gave the wind controller behind the glass the thumbs up to turn on the air, and it occurred to me that Mr. Wind Control really just looked like a DJ, which I found far too casual for the activity at hand.

Our teammate stood at the door of the giant wind tunnel, and then he leapt into it and I immediately decided I was not going next.

He was flailing all around and then suddenly he got himself in the pose we were taught, and just like that, he was flying.  The instructor gave him tips here and there, but mostly he was hovering in the air as we all cheered him on.  Well, we could cheer as loud as we wanted but due to hundred mile an hour winds and mind-bending earplugs, he probably just saw a bunch of silent muppets through the glass, waving our arms around.

In a split sixty seconds his turn was over and I was up.  I did a little deflection dance, trying to get the person behind me to go ahead of me, but the instructor was having none of it.

I stood at the doorway and jumped across his arms.  The intensity of the air hitting my face and the weightlessness of my body was immediately disorienting in the best possible way.  I got into position as quickly as I could, and after he moved my arms around a bit, there it was: I was floating.  I was also grinning like an idiot.

I couldn’t stop laughing as I realized that this felt completely natural and also like the best thing I’d done in years.  The instructor spun me around and I saw all of my teammates through the glass giving me the thumbs up, which made me feel like I must not look quite as ridiculous as I felt.  That or they were just glad it wasn’t their turn yet.

All too quickly, my minute was over and I jumped back onto the ground.  I felt absolutely fantastic, like I had just been shaken alive from a stupor.

Easily the best entertainment of the experience was watching other people fly.  I had to physically restrain myself from falling off my chair with laughter as each teammate went.  It wasn’t that they were any better or worse than me, it was just the sheer absurdity of watching someone you know get pummeled by 110 mile an hour winds.  People’s cheeks were pushed back and their lips were rumbling like a cartoon character falling off a cliff.  As each person got out of the tunnel it took them a minute to realize their entire chin was covered in saliva.  Oh, this was good entertainment.  Good indeed.

We all got to go a second time, and this time I was confident and the instructor knew it, too.  He saw me steady myself and then he showed me a head nod, teaching me to turn my face so that my whole body would spin.  It was insanity — I would barely turn my head and I spun like a top.  It was unreal.

At the end of our session our instructor said that no one was behind us in line, and if we’d like to go for an additional minute it would be $20.  No one hesitated.

Ha.  I tried to trick you there.  Did you fall for it?  Did you think I’d spend $20 without hesitation?  If you did, this is likely your first time reading this blog.

Everyone else went a second time, and I sat there telling myself I’d already spent $66 on this, and I’d likely be back to bring Mike and other family members, so I didn’t need to go.  But as each person went I could hardly stand to watch their glee.

As the last person exited, I jumped up and yelled, “OK I’ll do it!” into the deaf ears of everyone around me.

I don’t know if it’s because I held out, or because I’d done well the last time, but I’ll never forget what the instructor did next.  Ten seconds after I entered the tunnel and was floating, without warning he gave Mr. DJ the thumbs up and the force of the wind shot us thirty feet into the air, twisting and turning and flying all around the top of the tunnel, racing back and forth and driving downward and upward.  I went absolutely bananas, totally ballistic with joy.  It was exactly what I’d imagined Peter Pan must have felt as he dove in front of the moon in Hook.

One of my coworkers later told me, “I’d never seen you so happy!  It was incredible!”

Best $20 I’ve ever spent, hands down.

We all left the building completely elated, telling each other what we’d felt and who was funniest.

There is one drawback to indoor skydiving, and it’s significant: the experience is just too brief.  There’s no way around it.  Three minutes of flying only convinces you that you want more.  Which is a pretty brilliant marketing plan, but it’s also torture when you realize it’ll cost another eighty bucks to return.

It’s just a hunch, but I suspect I’ll gladly part with my cash if it means I can give the DJ the thumbs up and rocket to the moon.

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June 22, 2011 · 5:15 PM

Finding What We Were Looking For

Our journey to the U2 concert two weeks ago was more complicated than driving from our home to the stadium.

I bought the tickets for Mike in October 2009.  No, that is not a typo.

I gave them to him for Christmas that year, as we had always dreamed of seeing U2 live.  Seeing them in Seattle was second only to seeing them in Dublin, so we were both thrilled it was finally happening.

Like thousands of other fans, we were crushed when we got the email in March 2010 that Bono had hurt his back and the concert would be delayed.  We were absolutely slayed when they decided to delay it by an entire year to June 4, 2011;  it felt like they had said, “Whatever date sounds like it will absolutely never arrive — that is the new date of the concert.”

Toward the end of 2010, a couple in our Bible study announced their engagement.  We were utterly thrilled for them and so excited to watch them take the next step in their relationship.  We didn’t give a thought to the date they chose, because their wedding seemed close, and we thought the concert was impossibly far away…

…until one day in mid-April I was driving to lunch from work and heard the announcer on the radio excitedly mention the concert coming up on June 4.  I nearly careened off the road as I dove for my phone to call Mike in a panic.  He said we could talk about it that evening.

Talk we did.  Many times.  We even prayed about it, because the last thing we wanted was to hurt our friends’ feelings.  Finally, after much discussion, we figured out a way to honor their wedding and make one of our dreams come true — we would do both.  Thankfully, the fabulous bridal couple graciously understood.

I forgot to mention one little factor.  They planned to marry in Yakima, which is 2.5 hours outside of Seattle.

The wedding was at 4PM.  The concert was at 7PM.  This was going to require some James Bond Mike Reph driving skills.

We dressed for the wedding, packed alternate clothes for the concert, and made sure our tickets were in the glove box.  We hauled tail over the mountains to Yakima and made it there at 3PM so we could help with wedding duties.  The wedding was beautiful and we were so thankful we didn’t miss it.

We pulled away from the church at exactly 5PM and by 6:55PM we were circling Qwest Stadium.  Mike shaved 35 minutes off the drive time.  If that’s not James Bond, I don’t know what is (luckily Lenny Kravitz was the opener, so we took our sweet time snubbing the $50 parking lots in favor of the $15 spots half a mile away).

After arriving at the stadium, we realized we couldn’t find our section.  We walked back and forth between 236 and 238, but section 237 started to feel like the 13th floor of a hotel…nonexistent.

A concerned stadium guide saw my baffled expression and asked which section we were looking for.  “Oh!” she said.  “You’re on the club level!  It’s one more flight up!”

Club Level?

I didn’t buy Club seats!  I am far too cheap for such extravagance.  But buying them without knowing I was being a spendthrift was too good to be true.

We walked inside and gaped at the difference — 75% fewer people, no lines for the bathroom, and a far greater selection of food and drink.  Then we found that our seats were a mere six rows back from the balcony, our view was stellar, and we were on the aisle.

The whole situation was beginning to feel like a winning lottery ticket covered in sprinkles and delivered by carrier pigeon with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing the Hallelujah Chorus in the background.

Without a doubt, the concert lived up to what we had hoped it would be.  I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I actually cried — more than once.  I couldn’t get over our deep sense of gratitude, the beauty of the music, and the magic of seeing the greatest band on Earth.

Knowing exactly how cheesy it would sound, but unable to contain myself, I turned to Mike in the middle of the concert and said, “Merry Christmas!”

He just laughed and pulled me in for a hug, which is how we stood for the rest of the song.

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May 19, 2011 · 5:31 PM

Je Voudrais un Verre de Vin Rouge

Tomorrow Mike and I depart for a trip to Europe, and we’re both acting like children who’ve just injected a mixture of sugar and Christmas morning straight into our veins.

We both feel pinch-me, tell-me-I’m-dreaming happy, and we can’t wait to see what this adventure holds.

We prepare for it in different ways, of course.  Mike arranges the purchase of our pounds and euros, and I arrange to have my nails painted in a polish with a French name.

To each his own.

Wouldn’t you agree that “You Don’t Know Jacques” is the perfect gray/clay color for a stylish Parisian wannabe?

The best part is that the polish is the new OPI Axxiom, which won’t chip for 14 days…the exact amount of time I need it to stay put.

This is our first overseas trip together by ourselves (we went with my family in 2009 and it was fabulous, but this will be fabulous in a different way).  We are going to London and Paris, and yes, I am ecstatic to be visiting the land of Wills and Kate.  I will try to compose myself when entering Westminster Abbey, but I can’t make any promises that I won’t stand there and wave like I’m the bride (I’ve been there before, but that was before the wedding of the century).  Additionally, if I get arrested by Scotland Yard for trying to break into Buckingham, I’ll be sure Mike takes a photo so I can post about it here.  Priorities!

To prepare for Paris, I took a 90 minute French class at Rick Steve’s Europe center in Edmonds.  The title of this post is a result of that class (by the way, it says, “I would like a glass of red wine”).  Yes, I am a nerd.  But at least I’m trying to be culturally sensitive…let’s be honest, I’m just trying not to make a fool of myself.

I will likely fail on both counts.  My solution?  Blame the red wine!

In another over-preparatory effort, I had lunch with a French coworker of my father’s to get her insider advice.  We sat down at the restaurant, I pulled out my multi-paged spreadsheet, and she burst into laughter so hard she couldn’t speak.

“Oh my…oh…oh….yes we are so much alike!  Zis is exactly what I would do.  I, too, would make zis.  But no, no, you cannot zee Paree zis way.  No, zis will ruin everyzing!”

I asked her what she meant and she gave me a quick lesson about Parisian culture.  Eat.  Walk.  Drink wine.  Eat.  Shop.  Drink wine.  Eat.  Eat.

She began slashing at various museums I had listed on my spreadsheet.

“Zis is a waste of time.  No.  Not zis eizer.”

“But I have to see everything!” I protested.

“And you will ruin your trip in ze process,” she replied.  I relented.

Later, when I recounted this story to Mike, he cheered.  He’d been begging me all along not to over-schedule us, to let us just walk around and experience life there.  Point for Mr. Reph.

Several of our friends have also warned us on the fashion front.

“However formal you’re thinking of dressing in Paris, double it,” they advised.  This both excited us and sent us into a mild panic.  Surely I can’t be expected to traverse the city in heels?

“Well, heels for dinner for sure,  but you can wear flats the rest of the time,” they conceded.  “But if you show up for dinner in denim, expect to be ignored.”  Noted: denim = scorn.

Though I do care about looking sharp, I mostly care about getting so wrapped up in each city that I forget about myself entirely.  Isn’t that really the goal when traveling?  My parents always taught us to see new places and swallow them whole; to lose ourselves in whatever there is to discover.

They also taught us that rest is for the weak.

“Life is short!” my mom always says when we’re all exhausted and on our tenth activity of the day.  “You can sleep when you’re dead!”

Mike and I are currently working on our own catch phrase for travel.  We’re thinking of something that reflects our family history, but equally portrays our developing attitude.

So far, we’re working with, “Life is short!  See everything!   Then stop and have a glass of wine!”

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