Monday, 27 August 2012

The simulation of imminent death is good for family bonding

I just spent the weekend with a girlfriend that I have not seen in like 12 years…
Crystal was my bridesmaid at my wedding 16 years ago.  We have since lived in separate provinces and have scarcely been in touch. She had her first child at the ripe old age of 20 and I the age of 23.
Any single mom who devotes as much as Crystal has to giving her gifted-needs first born child everything available on the planet to succeed in life is a rock star in my eyes.  Now, she has had 3 more babies. All of whom are now under the age of 8. As if raising 4 children wasn’t a ridiculous endeavor, she has managed to simultaneously amass a small fortune, and by small I mean the likes of a feudal system Lord-ess.  She’s a little bit bad-ass.
Crystal rolled into Whistler village in her new Escalade and her little army in tow for the Wonderlust yoga and music festival last week.  DDILF, my 16 year old Toad and our German Exchange student Max, (because I need exchange students just to keep this old dingy afloat) rolled into our camp site with a trailer down by the river. DDILF is utterly thrilled that we have our own weekend retreat for $11 a night. Let me tell you it’s worth every penny, every penny and not a penny more.  No white trash here boy, no Sir-ee.  What are you looking at?
Crystal text messaged me from her resort hotel “Let’s take the kids white-water rafting or something totally obnoxious.  My treat! My 6 and 8 year olds are totally hard core and I want them to have fun”
Say no more… this is my town!  I am Adrienne La Montagne, fearless mountain guide and adventure seeker. I got this.
Within a couple of hours me and my entourage were barreling up a logging road to Whistler Bungee for lessons in scared shit-less.  Just to clarify, the kids weren’t scared shit-less, I was.
One after another every member of both families hurled themselves off  the 160ft bridge. We were secured only by a springy rope to a belt and then tied to a bridge. Not by some camouflaged clad marine that might have instilled a sense of safety and inspired heroic bravery but  by Josh, a 20 something dread-lock-haired dude who sounded eerily like Spicoli and  his English side-kick Wigglesworth, and by English I mean drunk. Well, probably not drunk at that moment but I was concerned. Sorry for stereotyping. I love Brits. They make great drinking buddies.
The 6 and 8 year old went off that bridge like they were freaking spawns of Spiderman.
Aleksandar’s arms and legs swam frantically as he fell like he was in an imminent death spiral. I laughed my ass off. 6 year old Savo smiled gleefully as he was gently dangled and dropped clear off the 160 ft. platform.  Then it was my turn… I nearly cried. I stood on that platform toes pointed out into the abyss of a massive river canyon and my life flashed before my eyes. I turned around slowly, I couldn’t look out, or down, I looked Dreadlock Josh straight in his mirrored sunglasses
Me: Um… no thanks, I am going to get off now.
 Josh : smiling apathetically
Me:  Gulp… turning pale
Josh:  “You are totally gonna do this is, it’s gonna be totally awesome, and you’re going to do this on the first count of one.  Ready…”
(“Ready” was a statement and not a question, so to imply that I better be fucking ready cause I have clients who want to jump)
Josh:  “and 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…”

White terror… Photos of my jump revealed my body position stiff as a fucking board with legs and toes pointed straight down like a an Olympic diver going into a pike. This was not the posture of the notorious mountain thrill seeker I am so infamous for being, but I do highly recommended the experience. There’s nothing like a simulated death experience to bring family and friends together.
Coming up next more thrilling adventures, (all in the same day) lessons on how to raise extremely fucking cool kids like these, and then later... the beneficial effect excessive swearing has on children…

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