There I was, standing at the beginning of a rope bridge. At the end was nothing but a tree, a wooden platform, a heavy duty metal cable, gravity and air. I looked behind me to see Elsa standing there, smiling as I walked out onto the shaky, swaying bridge. I got to the end, and was tethered to a cable and the person before was sent screaming off into space. Then another, then another. Finally, it was my turn,
I took a deep breath and the only thing that I could think of at that moment was:
I wonder if I should have taken my glasses off and left them in the car. And then I jumped.
I have never been zip-lining. I've jumped out of planes, and I've driven waaaay too fast than was probably a good idea but never attached to a cable and sent screaming through the trees. And today seemed like as good a day as any. But no screaming. Just giggling and grinning.
Yes, I giggled. It happens. Get over it.
There were a total of six (I believe, it all starts to run together after a while) lines to zip across, one of which being the length of three football fields. After the first one, my legs were shaking from the adrenalin and the fact that the harness was getting a little too comfortable with me (and not even a drink first... sheesh) but after the next two, I was an old pro. At the third, which was the longest one, my legs were getting tired and I decided to let the attendant, a really nice guy (who happened to be missing a few teeth, don't judge) "toss" me. Which basically means I sit on the line and he shoves me down it, which is still fun and a good way to ensure that you don't get stuck. After completing the zip line course, Elsa and I (who was one step behind me and never screamed in terror once. That's my girl: fearless) headed back to the city to join the battle against the zombie horde, aka Humans versus Zombies. I arrive, get my weapon and arrive onto the field of battle. Some of the friends that I made there seemed genuinely happy to see me, but I was too distracted but something else that I saw. I crested the hill to find a guy running around in a kilt with two huge pool noodle swords, chasing zombies.
Which for the record, isn't supposed to happen.
The was out there (yes, his name is The. Big deal, wanna fight about it?) in full Scottish attire, chasing and making the lives of zombies miserable. After a brief intermission, during which, The Scotsman and Black Ops (me) faced off in an epic battle of swordsmanship, athletic prowess and plain old stupidity and continued the game afterward. I ended up with some kind of vicious breakout across my shoulder where I combat rolled to avoid a swing, a lot more bruises, a beaten and sore body and more happy memories than I could even begin to mention.
Then, we returned to 4th Street to have a nice, COD family dinner and after "convincing" the security guards to let my two underage friends in so we could eat dinner (one only by a few months, the other by a LOT), we ate at the Pub, had a lovely night of conversation and at the end, eventually all retired to our homes, some sore, some sweaty but all happy. The only things that I would have done different? Had more people there. It was a blast and I look forward to the next time the Zombie horde attacks.
Because while my enemies stand, confounded, you'll find me with the family. Surrounded. And armed.