BCoF's Virtual 50 State Bucket List

Delaware

         Dewey, Dewey. Where have I heard that particular name before? Aha, the Dewey Decimal System. The method of cataloguing library books. Irrelevant here, but something I recall.

         Anywho, the entire gang is here at Dewey Beach, Delaware to experience parasailing. Sigh, once again I fixate upon a word, or in this case the prefix para. I think of this as meaning parallel or in conjunction. The good ol' dictionary considers para to mean beside, alongside, beyond, or abnormal. Yikes. My klutziness and general lack of athletic prowess already classifies me as abnormal.

         Is there ever a graceful manner in which to strap one's self into a wet harness attached to a rumbling motor boat? My feet already bawk as the boat sways with the undulating waves. I struggle to retain the brief lessons that seem to have slipped in one ear and slithered out the other. Do I simply hang on and permit my body to be whisked airborne? I do grasp that myself, Lyn's a Witchy Woman , and Sung'manitu are agreeing to be hoisted above a speeding marine vehicle as a trio. All for three and all that.

         Despite my slight trepidation, I take note of the raucous, circling sea gulls. Are they cheering, or jeering? Is this their daily comedy show? Watch the tourists attempt to fly.

         I do not recall hearing a warning. Something pounded in my ears. It could've been someone's accelerated heart beat/pulse, but most likely mine. One minute I was dangling and the next I was jerked into the vast azure yonder.

         After the initial few seconds of suspension, I forced open my eyes and gulped in a welcome breath. All that tension dissolved with the breeze tousling my hair and buffeting me about. Once again I felt weightless and free. A load had been lifted from my feet and they could swing idly. This broad was one with that glorious infinity of Atlantic Ocean and the entire skyscape. I had broadened my horizons.

         Apparently, I had many more whoops within me. How much adrenaline can one shoot through their veins?

         Normally, I would never consider yellow as my colour, but that vivid yellow parasail framed my jubilation perfectly. This will be a photo to treasure.

         By the way, I love the name of our parasail, Rusty Rudder. I'm thinking it could become some kind of mixed alcoholic drink. Of course, one ingredient would have to be a pinch of salt in commemoration of the salt air.