A colorful parachute, a good view of Boracay’s white shoreline, to be up, up in the air. I mean, who would say no to this experience? So I said I’d take the chance. Hubby and his brother didn’t like the idea. And my sister, well, she was forced to come along because of me.
We left early morning, skipping breakfast (as per instruction). We had our guide taking us on a boat that was exclusively for my sister and me, and there was a staff of around six men to assist us. It felt safe.
But then I felt for backing out at the last minute, but it was too late, because the parachute whisked us away up into the skies. Now I know how it feels to be…a kite. We were rocking back and forth and sideways because it was windy that day. And by God I felt my stomach turning.
“I am going to throw up!” I warned my sister.
She gave me the angry Garfield look.
“You are aware that the wind blows much my way?” she said with an even tone.
If I threw up, she’d pretty much get a splatter of last night’s dinner on her somehow.
I tried to shout and signal them to let us down, but we were too far up to be understood. And the wind was somehow loud.
At that point I wished I had a plastic bag to throw up into.
I did my best to control the dizziness. I looked up, down, and to some focal point far away. I tried to think of good things, positive things, like how beautiful Boracay is…and it helped somehow.
We survived. But I will never again parasail.