Today I did the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I flew.

Ok so I need to start out by saying that I am great flyer. I also need to say that I have flown in small, propeller planes before, and nailed it. I should also state I wasn’t flying this plane or anything spectacular like that. But today, I thought I was going to die.

Full admission: I am afraid of heights….very afraid. And this is my only defence for the slobbering mess that was me this morning as I boarded the 9:20 Sansa flight to Palmar Sur on the Pacific side of Costa Rica.

Put me in a 747 and I am 100% good to go. Small planes just don’t get high enough for me to overcome my fear of heights. I like looking out the window and seeing clouds, not trees and houses and mountains (things that would kill us upon impact when we fell from the sky in a fiery ball of steel).

But I digress…

It was an otherwise peaceful morning when we walked out onto the runway and climbed into the 8 seater. The propeller started up and shook our little plane like a maraca. We teetered and bounced and somehow made it off the ground. We shook and swooped and dropped and bumped – and not on purpose.

At one point my partner Geoff says to me, “My hand is numb. Can you squeeze the other hand for a while?” (He is a good man.)

I’ll admit it, I even cried a little.

My actual thoughts were: I’m going to die. I DON’T WANT TO DIE. Breathe. Breathe. In…and out. In…and out. Well since I’m going to die, I’m glad I’m going out on an adventure!

Turns out, I didn’t die. Turns out, I’m a little dramatic. Turns out, I’m not as tough as I once thought/pretend to be. But my hands are strong (sorry Geoff!) and all adventures (even ones you’re not brave about) make for great stories.

Here’s what it looked like from my seat. This is on the return flight; I was busy crying and trying not to throw up on the first one.