If there is one thing that most people quickly figure out about me, it’s that I am something of a daredevil. If it’s crazy, adventurous, gut wrenching, stomach flip-flopping, and typically not located anywhere near the ground, I am game. Bungee jumping? Sure. Skydiving? You betcha. Cliff jumping? Yeeha. And in Mazatlan last week I took off from the beach and shot straight up in the air for a hair-tingling parasailing adventure.
Parasailing is not really a scary or overly adventurous activity if you ask me. Unless you are afraid of heights (like The Guy is). To me, it’s just a few strings attached to my body as it’s yanked up into the air at a speed of something around 45 mph with nothing but air between me and big splat of Angie matter on the ground. See? No big deal.
The Guy helped me get a sweet deal on the ride. Instead of the standard $35, he helped negotiate another $10 off which is why I keep him around. He knows when to walk away so that they will come running after you pleading, “Si, si, senor! We will take the deal – but don’t tell nobody, okay?”
It was time to hit the sky. This set up involved a couple of Mexicans hooking me up to a parachute, waving out to a boat driver out in the ocean (the saddest looking boat, by the way), instructions to sit back, instructions on how to land (you have to guide it in), feeling the wind fill the chute, and then suddenly BOOM! 650 feet comes quickly and I hadn’t even taken a breath yet.
This is what it looks like when flying high above Mazatlan:
I was so distracted by how cool it was to be 650 ft up in the air, I forgot to pay attention to their “direction” flags. These flags basically told you how long you would need to tug on the right side to guide in the parasail and not land in the water…or on a building. I was staring across the Golden Zone, enjoying how incredibly quiet it was so high in the sky, when I started to notice people jumping up and down and up and down the beach waving flags. Is that for me? Oh, whoops. I was headed past the X Marks the Spot area. Dang it, I didn’t really want to come down. It was so peaceful up there and I could’ve flown around Mazatlan for hours. But luckily I was not in the least bit worried and I pulled and tugged until the three guys jumped up and pulled me down to the soft, silky sand.
Once I landed, I just couldn’t stop smiling and there was The Guy, videotaping my whole fantastical flying experience.
“How was it, Angel-A? Did you have fun?”
I don’t remember exactly how I answered that question, only that I babbled on and on for about 5 minutes about “how cool” and “totally awesome” and “unbelievable” it was to “soar through the sky”. And the rest of the afternoon I kept skip-hopping up and down the beach with a smile permanently splayed across my face.