Okay. I’m sitting on the tarmac of your favorite place and mine, Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport. And when I say our “favorite place,” I mean that I hate it more than anywhere else on Earth. After a 16 hour flight and 5 hour layover, I’ve been delayed—sweating in the stuffy airplane, at the gate, for at least an hour already. We tried to take off once, but quickly depowered due to some problem. We pulled away from the gate again after some repairs, but had to return due to another issue. I’m hesitant to say this plane is going to crash because I don’t want to jinx it. So…I’ll just say that I don’t think this plane won’t crash.
I just looked up, and the tattoos of the guy sitting in front of me are shining and sweaty (as is his shaved head) by his recent wardrobe shift to a wifebeater…and nothing else. Well, at least nothing else that I can see.
But seriously. I hope he’s wearing pants.
This situation reminds me of a certain day of kayaking in Idaho.
Mesa Falls is apparently a “novice waterfall drop” for kayakers. But my friends weren’t exactly begging my very ”novice” self to hit it with them.
On our way to Jackson Hole, Wyoming for some kayaking and climbing last summer, we stopped at Idaho’s Mesa Falls for a quick session. It is a double-stage drop, with something like a 15 or 20 foot drop to a 25 or 35 foot drop. To me, standing on the sketchiest and most precarious spot I’ve ever stood in my life (all for the sake of GTSing), Mesa Falls looked like freaking Niagara Falls. So when I watched Robin drop the first, land upside down, roll, drop the second, land upside down, and pull his skirt to swim beside his kayak, I was convinced it was, indeed, the coolest thing I’d ever seen. He and Dave each ended up hitting the drop twice, including a successful attempt from each in Dave’s creek boat with anti-blow-up-on-impact technology.
It was seriously the coolest thing to watch, ever. Maybe, one day, when I grow up, I’ll be able to hit Mesa Falls, too. Until then, I’ll take pictures and try not to fall 200 feet to my death.
I took the good pictures of the action on Robin’s camera. Where you at, Robin? I know you’re reading this, and I know you want to post some glorious shots.