I never thought much about riding in a helicopter. Maybe I never thought I’d have the chance. After booking our trip to Kauai, I did my normal pre-trip research to learn that this is one of the Must Do’s on the island.
This got me thinking. If everyone else does this, maybe I should too. I certainly didn’t want to miss out on anything. I suffer from a debilitating condition called FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out). So it seemed scheduling a helicopter tour of the island was the right thing to do.
My husband and I agreed this could be our birthdays gift to one another, as both of us have birthdays coming up in the next few weeks. This was a great relief to him, as he thinks I’m difficult to buy for, even though I insist I’m the easiest person on the planet to shop for. This would also help me out, as I’m pretty much out of new technology gadgets to buy him. I think he already owns everything the Apple store sells.
We got the helicopter tour all scheduled and I was immediately excited. Until I remembered I’m afraid of heights. And I can’t handle being out of control. And I hate anything resembling an amusement park ride. And I get motion sick just sitting in my roller chair at my computer.
When we showed up for our 3pm tour I had psyched myself up. I was going to do this and it was going to be amazing. I knew we were going to get to see some really amazing sites that could only be seen from the air. I was ready to go.
We arrived at Sunshine Helicopters at our assigned time and I saw the rest of our flight gang, two other couples. One young, 20ish couple, perhaps on their honeymoon, and another couple, perhaps 60ish. The 60ish woman was friendly and chatty and super excited for the ride. The 20ish kept looking me up and down. Why do women do that to each other? I tried to smile at her exactly 4 times and she starred at me like I was way too uncool for her exactly 4 times, so I gave up and started chatting with her husband. Which made her glare more. And made me laugh inside.
I decided the 60ish woman would be my friend for the flight, as we both were excited, outgoing and friendly, which is to say we actually had personalities, unlike Miss 20 Something. Clearly we were meant to be friends. On the shuttle van to ride to the heli airport I realized my new friend was wearing perfume. A lot of it. I don’t understand perfume. Yes, roses are nice. No, I don’t want to smell like I’m wearing a million of them. Nor do I want others to smell my rose cloud before they see me and long after I’ve left them. Regardless, I could be friends with Rosie, because she was funny. And she was the only other person talking.
Upon arriving at the heli airport, we were given inflatable flotation devices, told to buckle our seat belts and shown the barf bags. One of the barf bags flew out the helicopter as we were boarding. I joked to our group, “I guess only 5 of us can throw up now.” Yeah, sounded funny at the time. Little did I know what was in store for me.
We boarded the helicopter, got all buckled in and prepared for take off. I was pumped up. I had popped a Dramamine about an hour prior to take off, so I knew I was good to go in the motion sickness department. I was mentally prepared to give up all control and just enjoy the scenery. As for the heights, I was prepared to put on my big girl pants and take deep breaths.
As we took off, I could tell this was going to be awesome. Our pilot, Gentle John, as he was introduced to us, started telling us about the sites we’d be seeing. I knew this was going to be incredible.
Incredible it was. For the first few minutes we got higher and higher in the sky and then headed toward the mountains and waterfalls that Kauai is so well known for. It was amazing. Everything I expected and so much more. I was so glad we decided on this adventure.
As we headed into our first canyon, I felt a twinge of motion sickness, but I knew I was just imagining it since I had taken Dramamine.
And just as quickly as the fun had begun, it was over. On top of my fear of heights, my inability to surrender control, my motion sickness, and my adverse reaction to Rosie’s perfume, I was now claustrophobic. As we entered the first canyon, I decided I was ready to be done with the trip. We were probably 10 minutes into our 55 minute excursion at this point. I made a deal with myself that I would not look at my watch, as it would only remind me of the lengthy ride ahead.
About 15 minutes into the trip I knew that I needed to claim one of the 5 barf bags. I lost all faith in my good friend, Dramamine. I thought I could be discreet. The good news? Helicopters are loud. So your neighbors, who are pretty much on your lap, don’t hear your wretching. The bad news? Helicoptors are small, so even if your neighbors don’t hear you, they see you and smell you and hate you. You are ruining their trip. And if you’re a judgey Miss 20 Something, you must glare at the poor, barfing (almost 36 year) old lady who would sooner die than barf beside you, but has no other choice than to be awesomefully pretty and barfy right now.
My biggest fear: would 5 barf bags be enough for our group??? Certainly, I could not be the only one feeling this way. We would surely run out of bags.
I realized at my estimated half way point (still not peeking at my watch for fear it would disappoint me) that I was the only one feeling miserable and I could have all the barf bags to myself. This gave me great relief. Then I saw chunks in my hair out of the corner of my eye and was reminded I should not be relieved by anything just yet.
The rest of the flight was uneventful as long as I did not look up, down, left or right. So I stared straight ahead. I’m good at this, I’ve done it on many a boat trip. You can tell everyone else is looking at you thinking, “Oh, poor girl, she doesn’t feel well” since you are not moving. At all. It’s a bummer for someone who really wants to be the life of the party. But the desire to maintain some level of decency and not toss any more cookies far outweighs the typical desire to be the life of the party.
I took deep breaths for the remainder of the ride, trying not to inhale Rosie, which took considerable focus and effort. I held my barf bag as far to my left as possible, hoping only my husband would smell it. He assured me he did smell it, as did everyone else. I kept reminding myself that no matter what, I was glad I did this.
Yes, I was happy and proud of that little barf bag. As we stepped out of the helicopter, I held it high with pride as we approached our shuttle drivers. They laughed. So I did get to be the life of the party for that moment.
I was glad I took advantage of an opportunity I may never have again, in spite of my fears. I was proud that I was able to get myself psyched up for something that really put me out of my comfort zone. I was grateful that I got to see some amazing breathtaking views, even if I could not turn my head to fully take them in. I did something not everyone is brave enough to do. I did something I knew I wasn’t suited for. I doubt I’ll ever do it again, but I’m a better person for having done it.
A couple hours after the ride I was so happy that this was my birthday gift. As my belly settled, I was more able to appreciate everything we saw from the helicopter. I was able to laugh with my husband. He was beside me when I puked into a Zip Loc on a bus in Peru and he was with me flying high in Kauai. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to have anymore of these sorts of adventures with me, but he would never tell me that. He take another barf adventure with me tomorrow.
As you head into this week, think of one thing you can do that is out of your comfort zone. Perhaps a new exercise class or trying a new recipe with a vegetable you think you don’t like; Perhaps an adventure with your child(ren) that you have been putting off because you don’t know how it will go; Perhaps booking something that’s just for you to enjoy, all by yourself, something indulgent and selfish and completely unlike anything you would normally do for yourself.
Put on your big girl pants.
Get uncomfortable.
Remember your barf bag.
Comments
Powered by Facebook Comments
