don't know when it happened, but i've come to realize that things i used to get a rush out of or enjoy in my first two decades of life are becoming less and less exhilarating.
example: i won't even TRY to do a back handspring anymore. nor will i try for the simple front flip on a trampoline. granted, i broke my ankle on a trampoline, but still, i'm a sissy.
last weekend i went on a hot air balloon ride.
upon climbing into the giant "picnic basket" as bryn called it, i realized i was scared to bits. seriously. something about standing in a basket attached to a thin, parachute material balloon with two blazing torches of fire shooting into it, flying 2,000+ feet in the air controlled by basically nothing but wind and intuition/experience of the pilot was severely unsettling to me. sure, i was out of control, but holy smokes batman.
ten minutes into the flight, i chuckled when i looked down at my toes and they were white from clenching onto my flip flops which were marking my firmly planted space in the 4x4ft space of the basket. bryn, however, was pouncing around like a puppy dog, sticking her head out, pointing, gawking, oooo-ing and ahhh-ing at everything. i was simply nodding in agreement/terror.
at some point i snapped out of it (probably around the time the pilot sensed my instability and began verbally bullet-pointing his resume for us). impressive guy. more stories on him later...
all-in-all it was a fun ride and at our highest point of the flight, bryn and i hopped onto the sides of the basket and had our pilot take a photo of us, 2,300 feet above ground, floating like, well, a balloon.
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