Okay, I am the first to admit that I hate asking for help. I would rather walk down the Las Vegas Strip barefoot in the deadly summer heat than ask my friends or family to spot me a twenty. But unfortunately for my pride, this time around I need you to help me achieve one of my long fantasized and romanticized adventures: skydiving somewhere beautiful.
When I was seventeen I wrote out my first bucket list (naturally, in sparkly pink gel pen). Skydiving was one of the first things I scribbled down in my cramped unabomber handwriting. I remember confidently deciding this was the perfect experience for me because it combined by biggest fear (falling to my death) with my most coveted super-hero power (flying). Continue reading