Page 81 of Ex Marks the Spot

Listening to Big Mike and DeAngelo whine about not getting the “real Egyptian experience” because we didn’t ride a camel,

Listening to them tell everyone about going to McDonald’s in CairoandLuxor, and

Losing our lead because we were all on the same flight to Athens, Greece.

But in better news, my ankle is less purple today, and Hartley and I are getting an upgraded hotel room and a day off from racing...right after we throw ourselves out of a perfectly good airplane.

The Shortcut was waiting for us in the clue box tucked inside a rental car office in the Athens airport. As fate or luck or manifestation would have it, we snagged seats right behind first class on the flight from Luxor, putting us in prime position for getting off the plane and reaching the box first.

Our conversation went like this:

Take one of the six marked rental cars and drive to Skydive Athens. If your team completes a jump from 14,000 feet, you can proceed directly to the checkpoint. If you don’t jump, you must return to this box to receive your next clue.

“After New Zealand, this is probably the last thing you want to do,” I say, returning the Shortcut to the box.

“I mean, in theory it’s the same as bungee jumping and I was ready to do that again.”

Wait, is she serious?

“And this would guarantee a first-place finish, not to mention an upgraded hotel room,” she continues.

I nod in thought. “The crew did say this break will be eighteen hours instead of twelve.”

“Just think of all the sink laundry we could do in eighteen hours.”

“Four or five loads, at least.”

She matches my mischievous smirk with one of her own and grabs the Shortcut. “Who’s driving?”

So that’s how we ended up in a matchbox-sized airplane with a jovial pilot, two tandem instructors whose hands our lives are now in, and two cameramen from Skydive Athens standing by to capture it all.

Am I scared? A little, but adrenaline and thinking about all the “laundry” we’re going to do after the checkpoint are helping. Thankfully, Hartley’s in better spirits than the day she bungee jumped, and I’m hoping like hell it’s not because of the Adonis she’s strapped to.

Literally—her instructor’s name is Adonis, and he looks every bit the part of a Greek god. My instructor is a mortal named Philip, but he smells nice at least. When we reach fourteen thousand feet, he runs through the basics one more time: keep our heads back and grip the front straps of our harnesses when we exit, then assume the standard freefall skydive position when they tap our right shoulders.

Hartley’s cameraman wastes no time opening the door and positioning himself. She gives me one last thumbs up and lets out an excited squeal as she scootches toward the exit with Adonis. After ensuring her head is against his chest, he nods once to the cameraman and then they’re gone.

That’s it.

The whole thing happens in less than five seconds.

Just as quickly, we’re out the door and I’m face-to-face with the purest, bluest sky I’ve ever seen. I didn’t even know blue came in this shade. I certainly haven’t seen it during any of our flights, but maybe it only works when there’s no plexiglass in between.

Another surprising discovery? We’re plummeting to the earth at terminal velocity, yet it doesn’t feel like we’re falling at all. Resting on air would be a better description. Weird, right?

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