I have never really been interested in anything dangerous, scary or even thrilling. I don’t like rollercoasters, I get car sick and I’m usually the guy who watches everyone’s stuff while they are out having fun. Still, this isn’t a problem for me. I have fun in feeling safe: not feeling like my stomach is going to pop out of my mouth while I slowly die.

Nevertheless, when I was in Hawaii, I felt like I needed to seize the opportunity around me. My parents were looking into what to do the next day, but, as usual, I felt like a roadblock in the family’s fun.

“There’s a helicopter ride,” my dad remarked as my brother smirked, both knowing my response.

“Nope,” I replied for the fifth time in a row.

My parents continued looking as guilt washed over me. Was I ruining these rare life moments? Would my brother resent me in the future for taking away any chance of fun in his life?

I decided to branch out for once. I would show my family that I was willing to change for the good of the family. I would not reject my dad’s next suggestion. I could not.

“I found this boat ride,” my dad mumbled tiredly.

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Yeah, that sounds cool!”

My family, shocked, did not believe their ears, but they did not ask any questions and went to bed.

A boat ride would not be horrible, I thought. Sure, I get sea sick, and sure, the ocean is scary. Still, it could be worse.

When I woke up in the morning, I was nervous, but I tried not to show it. I had made it this far, and I could not disappoint my family. So with barely another thought, I was rushed out of the hotel room.

We got to the boat as my fear reached an all-time high. Little did I know, it was about to reach even higher.

“By the way,” my dad told me. “We’re going parasailing.”

I was shocked. I felt betrayed. At the same time, I had something to prove, and I could not back out.

The boat moved further away from the shore, and I watched as people flew up into the air while the boat sped around. Eventually, it was time.

My brother and I sat down, and we were told we did not weigh enough combined. I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling saved by divine intervention – until an old, heavyset man with a large gray mustache plopped in between me and my brother. The boat sped off, and we started to rise along with my heart rate.

My fear quickly became replaced with awe. I could see the deep blue ocean, the beach, the fish. It also was quickly replaced with the spanish cries of fear by the man sitting next to me. He giggled, screamed and yelled to us in Spanish. I tried to focus on the water, but he soon began grasping our knees for safety. Eventually, as we landed he released his tight grip.

This experience, though interrupted by a strange, Spanish-speaking man, taught me a lesson I used from then on. I learned to try new things, to seize the moment, and to weigh enough so that a weird guy does not try to grab your knees.