I believe I can fly...

I have always and will always seek to live the adventure of life.  And one such adventure started whilst on a family holiday in Tunisia.

Tunisia it turns out, or the part we were in, was a completely non cultural resort of sorts but it provided a haven away from a rather horrific storm my family were going through.  Anyway, we sunbathed, ate lots, celebrated New Year, went to many markets and bartered away.  We went swimming in the sea and decided on one particular day to try para gliding.  This was rather adventurous for a mother with 3 children aged 14, 11 and 8…but that’s just the kind of family I’m from.

We had passed one set of men running the paragliding which put the notion in my mother’s head.  As we carried on walking we approached some more men and we stopped to enquire. 

Two guys on the beach would harness you into some safety contraption, we’ll call them Tom and Dick, then Tom would wave to a guy far out in the sea on a boat (we’ll call him Harry) and he would set off.  Tom meanwhile would tell the paraglider to start running and soon they would lift off and soar magnificently into the air.  They would be up in the air for about 10 minutes and then the boat would bring them back to the beach.  Tom or Dick would then whistle, the paraglider would pull a cord and then would descend gently onto the beach.  Got it? Simple.

Right, so first up, my brother, Richard, aged 11, the man of the house.  Harnessed in, he sets off and is back on dry land in 15 minutes all grins and wonder. 

Next, my mother.  I think it’s important to mention at this time that Tom and Dick, (I cannot comment on Harry, we never met) were the greatest sleaze balls Tunisia has ever had to offer.  Prolonged stares, whispers, with a gentle constant murmuring of ‘Will you marry me?’ playing in the background.  They loved our accents, my sister’s blonde hair, the fact that we were living apparently was even worthy of praise.  My mother sets off, is up in the air whilst her two daughters are being sold into marriage.  By the time my mother is heading back into shore I’ve had just about enough from these freaks and so refuse to look in their eyes and hold my sister close lest they sell her.

Mum has returned, loved it. “Way you go Ru…” she offers. 

So I did.  Took to the floor like a seasoned pro.  Tom is still whispering.   Refusing to look at either of them, I hear them drone through the ‘sexy’ safety procedures and I zone out and take in the beach. 

A vast beach; waves, people swimming, laughing, playing and in the distance a boat with froth coming out the back.  The thoughts begin…Froth happens when the engine starts…is that the boat that Harry is on? Scanning the sea I can see no other boat.  I think it’s the boat.  As I turn to tell my lovers that I think Harry may have got the wrong end of the stick, I am yanked forward by my stomach, like some extreme hiphop move. 

Harry has started the boat.  I am just about harnessed in.  Tom and Dick squeal.  Sexy.  

And I am hurtling across the sand at record speed on my backside with a parachute flailing behind me and an audience of about 300 across a beach.  I’m tearing through the sand like a crazy machine.  Harry will not be stopped. Then I hit a ravine, well you know what I mean, a pathway created by the sea leading to the sea, deep enough for my toes to dip into and flip me over…yes.  So now…I am hurtling at about 30 miles an hour across a beach with my face in the sand, my body completely flat.  This entire event lasts about 40 seconds and then silence.

I think I am dead.

Silence.

I lift my head, slowly.  Spit sand out of my face and turn around.

My family are on the floor crying with laughter.  Tom and Dick are apologetically whimpering.  And the beach is in awe.  That I survived, that such a thing could happen.  Bedraggled, and believe me I owned that word that day, I returned to the start position.  With only my dignity and entire ego bruised, I tried once more.  This time Harry co-operated and as I took off running and was lifted into the air I heard a faint cheer of support.

Para gliding, when I actually mastered the art of getting in the air, was not all I had hoped for.  When I approached land I pulled the toggle and landed…wait for it…in Tom’s arms!  Tom and I did not marry, although we did sell my sister.