Page 61 of The Suite Life
As Jeff and I shuffle toward the platform’s edge, the instructor leans in close.
‘Couples usually go for the hand-holding option,’ he tells us.
I shoot a glance at Jeff, and we exchange a look that screams: Are we really doing this? But from the look on his face, I can tell that he’s not only planning to do it, he’s excited.
I glance out ahead of me. It isn’t just one zip line, it’s two that run side by side, and it isn’t just one stretch. This line takes you to another platform, which takes you to another, and then another, getting a little lower each time. I couldn’t be higher from the ground right now unless I was in a helicopter, which I wouldn’t love, but it feels like a safer option than dangling from wires.
‘Ready? Here we go…’
The instructor’s words hang in the air, but when it comes time to take the plunge, I decide that I would much rather be a spectator than a participant.
And so Jeff sails off solo, leaving me on the platform, hanging on to the staff member for dear life.
‘Sorry,’ I tell the instructor, feeling a tinge of embarrassment as I peel myself off him, and slip out of my harness.
‘It happens more often than you would think,’ the instructor tells me. ‘Although it’s usually kids.’
Smooth, Gigi. So smooth.
I awkwardly trail back down the stairs – lacking the energy I found on the way up – my cheeks burning with a combination of the awareness that comes from seeing the judgemental looks from very, very brave men (women and children) on their way up, and, let’s face it, the most physical exercise I have done since school.
Finally back on solid ground, I resist the urge to plant a dramatic kiss on the earth beneath my feet. Instead, I hop into the waiting car, informing the driver that Jeff will be back shortly, and then I sink into my chair and think about what I’ve done. In years to come, when I’m an old woman, tucked up in bed, I will allow my mind to wander back to this day and I will run it through my head, again and again, thinking about what I should have done.
Jeff eventually returns to the car, triumphantly carrying two plates piled high with food.
‘I hope you’re hungry,’ he says with a smile.
There are saucy chicken wings, balls of rice, and then a small container full of shrimp.
‘I don’t like seafood,’ I blurt, getting it out of the way. ‘Or heights. Sorry about all that, up there.’
‘I know that now,’ he says with a chuckle. ‘But I didn’t even consider that, when I arranged it. That was silly of me and I’m sorry so… peace offering?’
He hands me a plate before lifting the container of shrimp off it, dumping it on his plate instead.
‘It’s okay,’ I reassure him, waving off the concern. ‘Did you enjoy it at least?’
‘I’ve done it before,’ he says, with a shrug. ‘Anyway, forget that, here we have Huli Huli chicken, which is super sweet and delicious – if you haven’t had it before. I thought we could eat in the car, maybe take a scenic ride around the island, watch the sunset. There’s a great route, along the Hana Highway, with some amazing views. Oh, and I know a great shave ice place, when you’re ready for dessert.’
I smile as I nod enthusiastically. Food, with a view, and my feet on firm ground. Now this is my idea of a dream date.
‘And maybe we could get to know one another a bit better,’ he suggests. ‘Just so I don’t put you face to face with any more of your fears.’
‘Good idea,’ I reply. ‘I’m terrified you’ve got a boot full of spiders.’
‘So, Gigi, let’s take it from the top: what was little you like?’ he asks curiously.
‘Barbie crazy,’ I confess. ‘I had a collection of dolls that could rival a toyshop, and I always loved to do their hair, which is ultimately what led to me wanting to train to be a hairdresser.’
‘Well, they sound like the ideal test subjects,’ he says with a laugh.
I know it sounds silly but I feel relieved when he doesn’t react negatively to the mention of my job.
‘What about you?’ I ask. ‘What was it like growing up in… Canada?’
‘Good ear,’ he points out, leaning back in his seat. ‘Well, I grew up in a small town where everyone knew everyone – and everyone else’s business. Hockey was practically a religion – I played on the local team, which I know sounds like a cliché, but I was a typical Canadian kid, dreaming of being the next Wayne Gretzky. But… I sucked.’
I smile at the mental image.
