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Fly in a helicopter.

I think it safe to say most people dream of flying. Any means of getting me into the air and giving me a simplistic view of our complex world ranks especially high on my list. I love to fly and recently I had my first chance to do so in a helicopter.

Out of all the modes of flight available today, a helicopter was and still is the one I find least attractive. The reason being a helicopter has a 100% dependency on moving parts to stay in flight. Should the engine fail, maintaining flight is no longer and option.

However, weighing the statistics was enough to get me to climb into this unnatural flying contraption with my mother and sister.

The flight was surprisingly smooth. I had expected lots of bouncing and moving around, but we just floated along as if we were being caused to hover by some constant force below as opposed to the giant noisy fan above. We moved much slower than one would in a plane and the windows were much larger, giving us an almost 360 degree, very satisfying view of the Alaskan coast, towns, mountains, and glaciers below.

It’s an experience I’m glad I’ve had, and if I had to live my life over again, I’d make sure I did it. But I can’t say I’m in giant rush to get back in one of those things. I’m more a fan of things with wings.

Glissade a volcano.

Glis?sade (gl-s?d’) n. A controlled slide, in either a standing or sitting position, used in descending a steep icy or snowy incline.

It was the summer of 2002 and we had hiked all day to reach the summit of Mt St Helens; a volcano that had erupted a mere twenty years ago. She was supposedly dormant, although this summer 2005 she?s been rumbling again and is closed to hiking. The hike was difficult. Lots of hand over foot even before the tree line, then loose granular for hours and more hand over foot as we scaled boulders to the top. The view from the summit was beautiful. At my toes was a sheer drop into the mouth of a volcano. It was as if the earth had opened up and I was looking straight into hell. In the distance mountains spotted the state of Washington and behind me descended miles of steep, hard packed snow.

There was no way one could climb to the peak over this snow without special gear. Since we had no such gear, we had scaled the natural stream of boulders that led like a man made path to the summit. The guides talked about the possibility of glissading down while others whined that this was not a definite plan. They said some things about safety being a concern, but I was paying more attention to the climb, for it was my first time on a mountain.

The ascent had taken us a long time and honestly, after reaching the summit, I wasn?t looking forward to a five hour hike back to camp. After we finished eating and packed our stuff, the guides gave the word that we would indeed be glissading down the mountain. Ok, now I was interested. Any alternative to more hours of hiking was something I?d like to try.

When they told me what I was to do, I couldn?t believe it. How can this be safe? Are they serious? As my friends got into position and started down the mountain, I couldn?t believe my eyes. We were actually to sit on our butts, lift our feet in the air, lean back and give ourselves a push into uncontrolled velocity. Just like sledding, but with no sled! And this hill wasn?t like the one down the street. Mt St Helens is over 8000? above sea level and miles long. I was given a rickety climbing stick as my break. ?Do NOT let this thing go?, said the guide before disappearing in a whoosh of air and ice.

There were plenty of people ahead of me already flying along, so I stopped thinking, sat myself down and just pushed myself off. I picked up speed quickly and soon it didn?t matter what position I was in, butt, back, stomach?I?d just keep sliding along. Once in awhile a foot would catch and spray ice in my face, spinning me around. I got pretty good at using my climbing stick as a break and rudder. The more confidence I got, the faster I went. Eventually we were all knocking into each other as we raced down the face of Mt St Helens.

The feeling was so great. We?d spent hours and hours hiking up, and now we were descending the same distance in only minutes. The scene was not something a mother would like to see. Human bodies sliding helplessly down the side of a volcano at the mercy of her incline. Luckily the guides new what they were doing, because eventually the steepness faded, and like rolling marbles finding a dip in the floor, we all collected into a basin of snow at the tree line. I wanted to do it again, but the only way was to hike back up and unfortunately there was not enough daylight or strength in my legs to make it back to the top.

I wouldn?t recommend glissading without a guide who seriously knows the terrain. There were points I was going so fast that any impact with a stationary object would have been pretty tragic. This was a pure field of snow with nothing to hit, and I could see that, but I still wouldn?t have done it without a professional ahead of me. I guess most sensible people wouldn?t just sit on their ass and slide down the side of the volcano anyway. Then again, our idea of sensible isn?t always right, nor is it always the most fun.

Get pierced.

I was jogging my normal path down Ocean Road in Narragansett, breathing in the warm salty air that somehow lubricates my mind, making it easier to sort things out. Graduation had been a few weeks prior and I was reflecting on how much I had changed during college. I started out wearing enormous worn jeans and oversized band t-shirts. I had bleached hair and a face full of metal then. By graduation I dressed a bit more “normal”, as my dad would often call it. The clothes fit, my hair was back to brown and some of the metal had come out.

Still jogging, I thought about why I had decided to pierce my tongue, eyebrow , ears four times and both nipples. The simple reason I suppose, was I liked the look. Just as one might like like a green hat or a pair of red shoes. The people I hung around with had piercings, so that’s what I found attractive. However there was also an attraction to the attention metal in my face caused. Of course it was more often bad then good, but I think I still liked it. Even today, I find it interesting and entertaining to observe people’s reactions to a disturbance in normalcy.

As I ran forward and watched the ocean, I touched the metal and plastic pieces in my body. They had been attached for so long, that sometimes I needed reminding they weren’t a part of me. By that time I was down to a ring in each nipple and holes in my ears, which were wide enough to easily pass my pen through during a boring lecture.

I thought about how my appearance had moved in a more conservative direction. My interest in playing with prejudice minds was becoming less important than being prejudged. And now it was time to head out into the real world and be prejudged more than I?d ever been prejudged before. I knew if I took my piercings out and put them in a drawer, with a swing of mood I?d probably put them back in. I also knew that during a run was a time when I had the clearest thoughts. So still running, one by one, slowly and over-theatrically, I took out each piercing and tossed it to the side of the road.

From having piercings and from taking them out on my own accord, I learned a lot about playing along with societies stereotypes for personal gain. I don?t like the way superficial perceptions and traditionalism play a role in the way people are judged, but it?s a fact of this world. I learned to put everything on a scale. I never liked dressing up and I still don?t, but if what I may gain by wearing the costume is more important to me than the discomfort or distaste it may bring, I do it.

There are still times I do things, wear things, say things that aren?t commonly accepted. And who knows, if there comes a time I?m not concerned with being prejudged, I may end up getting pierced again. I still find the style attractive and interesting. Until then I?ll play the dress up game just like everyone else.

Quit a job.

This wasn’t easy to do, but it was definitely one of the all time greatest things I’ve ever done. My first full-time, salary job out of college was as an operations manager at a dot com call center. We expedited passports for people and my job was to make sure all the expediting was expedited. It was fun at first, but like most things new, the fun faded.

I’m sure there were jobs out there that would have stayed exciting to me, but the job wasn’t the problem. Before I’d taken this position, I’d had a sneaky suspicion that the role of employee was not one I was designed for. As the working weeks wore on, these suspicions knawed at my conscience.

Working for someone else gave me a very closed-in and uncomfortable feeling. It always had growing up, but now, being done with school, the visions of a subservient future depressed me heavily. I just couldn’t wrap my head around trading my freedom for anything. Having someone tell me when I could eat, who I could talk to, where I could go was absolutely horrible. It felt like 1000 tons of bricks were crushing every positive spirit inside of me. I was worried the crushing wouldn’t stop until I accepted that that’s just the way things were. I didn’t want to accept it. I wouldn’t accept it.

Two months into my first real job, I sat down in my first real bosses office, and I quit. It was hard to quit that job, not just because I was quitting, but because I was quiting forever.

During the following months, I took a couple other jobs, but I knew they were only temporary. I knew I was already done.

I knew I was free.

Skydive.

I was standing on a grass field, wondering where the runway was. I spotted a small plane, at the mercy of the wind, coming towards the ground. An instant of fear hit me before I realized that the field I was in was the runway.

It’d only been about 90 minutes since I stepped off the 747 I’d taken from Sydney to Christchurch, NZ. And now I was ascending back into the sky, with four uncmfortably calm tandem coaches and three other uncomfortably nervous backpackers. I was amused at how quick the coaches were to strap a complete stranger to their chest. However, the awkwardness disappeared as soon we hit altitude and the door opened. The wind was rushing so loud. Maybe it was the wind…maybe it was the fear, but I couldn’t hear anything. I had nonchalantly found my place last in line when boarding the plane. I didn’t think about the fact that it would work like a pez dispenser. Last one in is the first one out.

So my coach is yelling things at me, probably repeating the instructions he’d given on the ground. All I could think about was is this guy strapped to me tight enough. What if he missed a strap? Would that make all the others come apart? That went quickly though. As soon as I started to second guess what I was doing, I was flung into the sky.

The falling was like on a rollercoaster dive, but longer and harder. I couldn’t breath, nevermind scream. Then, after a few seconds, the air governed our speed and the sense of falling faded.

The wind was loud, but otherwise the sensation of falling had gone away all together. We were so high, that the ground did not even appear to be rushing towards me.

It was like the dreams I always have of flying. Seeing a 360 degree horizon, the curve of the earth, the start and finish of mountain ranges, entire lakes…the world was so expansive.

Eventually, the ground started approaching. We opened the chute and then everything slowed again. The flying had returned and was quiet this time.

I took my camera out of my pocket and shot from the hip, not wanting to waste a second of my first skydiving experience looking through a plastic viewfinder.

As things on the ground came into view, so did the reality of my height. I imagined the sensation of falling again. What if the straps snapped and I fell now? The ground would rush at me so fast. I wonder if I’d feel it. Probably not I thought, which somehow made the worry go away.

When my feet hit the grass, I couldn’t believe it was over. I wanted to go back up right away, but cash was getting thin. So I settled on reliving the experience as I laid my head each night of the days and weeks following. Still today, when I close my eyes, I can see everything in detail.

Overcoming fears and the intense falling sensation were pretty great. But mostly…the feeling of flying is what I’ll never forget.

See a UFO in Roswell, New Mexico

In case you don’t already know…Roswell, NM is where the proported alien spacecraft crash landed in 1947. The UFO Museum and Research Center provides surprisingly convincing evidence that something other worldy landed on American soil have a century ago. More importantly the town is a sight to see. The whole place thrives on tourism from alien enthusiasts and curious travelers on their way through New Mexico’s deserted landscape. The street lights all have alien eyes on them. The restaurants serve things like”alien eggs” and the “extra terrestrial sandwich”. It’s pretty funny.

The part that made the aura of the town more interesting for Mike and I during our two days there, was what we saw on our way into the city. We had been driving all day over mountains and through deserts. The night was pitch black, for there was no moon. But it was filled with billions and billions of stars. So it’s about 11pm and we’re still driving, hoping to see the city soon. As we get closer to Roswell we start conversation about the aliens and UFO’s. Do you think they exist? Do you think they’ve been here? Would our government cover it up…blah blah.

In the middle of this conversation, we come over a hill and the city of Roswell finally comes into view. I swear to you, the moment the city came into view, Mike and I looked towards the sky and saw the biggest flash of light we’ve ever seen in a night sky. It streaked at thousands of miles per hour across the horizon and then disappeared. I’ve seen shooting stars before and this was much, much closer. Granted, it was likely some large particle from space burning up in the atmosphere, but since I don’t know for sure, it remains and unidentified object that was flying like hell over Roswell, NM. So that’s my UFO.

Between my UFO experience and the evidence presented in the museum, I’m convinced there’s something out there.

Visit a Nuclear Missile Silo

I always talk about comprehending the massiveness of things. I can’t explain to you how massive a nuclear missile is. It’s truly overpowering. You know, it must not be only the physical size that gives me that overwhelming feeling. It’s probably the fact that this giant weapon, the size of a Manhattan high rise, exists entirely for the destruction of life.

Peering through the glass, down the barrel of humanity’s most powerful gun, I saw images of cities disintegrating in a flash of light. I thought about how much time and money is spent on developing ways to take life. I thought about the irony in how much time and money is also spent on developing ways to save life. We do everything in our power to stretch the human life expectancy as long as we can…while at the same time we strive and strive to create ways to kill more people, quicker, faster, cheaper, cleaner.

What exactly are we trying to accomplish?