Celebrating Hernandez-style

We didn't light off any fireworks for the 4th of July this year. In fact, I don't think we've ever done fireworks as a couple. For holidays, we usually don't do things that are, well, traditional. Thanksgiving we went snowshoeing. Christmas we went snowboarding. Valentine's Day we skipped entirely. And it works for us. We have some really great memories of things we've done, rather than added calories from a big meal or an ugly matching sweater set. For us, holidays are all about the experience.

This past holiday weekend, we rode the pendulum between traditional and extreme. We headed to Denver for a family reunion. We hiked, burned stuff, played in the river, slept on rocks, had campfire stories, and ate good food. It was everything that a family reunion should be.

We also went bungee jumping. Neither Ruyman nor I had done it before, but when the opportunity came up at $10 a head, we couldn't resist. We donned harnesses and climbed the 90-foot tower, feeling nervous but determined. We'd already watched a teenage boy stand at the jump site and fret for 15 minutes, so I knew that for me, the key was to not over-think it. It was going to be an act of will.

When you jump, they give you a choice: forward, backward, or dive. I took the first option. The jump master hooked me up to the bungee via what looked like a water noodle on steroids and led me out to the edge. The people below were not quite ant-like, but resembled some of the massive beetles Colorado has in abundance. I leaned forward, imagining that Ruyman would catch me from behind but knowing he wouldn't. And I fell.

I'm not a screamer. In tense situations, I emit a grunt that sounds something like a death knell and a constipated groan of agony. This time, however, I let out a Home-Alone-aftershave-on-open-cut type scream. It was purely instinctive. My vocal chords were convinced I was plummeting to my death and acted on their own.

Then came the bounce. It was a lot gentler than I'd imagined. No whiplash. No stomach hurtling out your mouth. Just a jolt and a sudden reverse in direction. My body was confused. Not only was going to die, some all-powered sadist was going to make me live through live action replays before I hit the ground. About the third bounce, my body finally got with the program and stopped screaming. The jump master lowered the cord and I touched down on the big inflatable landing pad. Then the ride was done. Easy. No sweat.

It took 20 minutes for my legs to stop shaking.