300 Feet Up, Isn’t As Far As 300 Feet Down

I told some friends I was going to call this post “300 Feet Up, Isn’t As Far As 300 Feet Down” but the real name of this post is “When It’s Time To Go…Go!” Sorry for the confusion but I will now try to make everything a little more clear.

Mazatlan is a beautiful place. The mountains along the beautiful shore overlooking pristine blue waters and protected coves bring tourists from around the world. That’s how I got there. I was a tourist. I love being a tourist. One of my favorite things in the world is traveling. The only problem with traveling is, when you go some place beautiful, or exciting, or relaxing, sometimes you hate to leave. This is what got me into trouble, again, hating to leave.

We had a wonderful time in Mazatlan, shopping, exploring, looking at homes in the hills, strolling along the beach, going places where few get to go, thanks to our guide. But the time came to leave and we bid our guide “Adios” and headed down the beach to our awaiting ship.

That’s when it came into view, the brightly colored parachute reminiscent of all the colors and decorations on the streets of San Antonio during Fiesta. Instantly the child rose up inside of me and I stopped in my tracks and said, “I have got to ride that!”

My wife being the sane one of the two of us said, “I don’t know, Bille, these guys don’t look like professionals. If you want to parasail, why don’t we book it on the ship? It’s time to go.”

I’m not sure but I think I stomped my feet in the sand as I said “I want to ride this one!”

She shook her head as she asked me if I wanted her to hold my stuff – wallet, cell phone, Passport. I said, “Nah, he said we would take off from the beach and land back on the beach. I won’t get wet.”

As they strapped me into the harness and put the life jacket on me, the adrenaline was flowing through my body. Excitement was in the air. It was electric. I was pumped. Soon I would be, according to my new friends, floating happily 300-400 feet above all these terrestrial losers on the beach.

In my endorphin induced state of euphoria, the whole world stopped until I heard these faint words floating through the fog in my mind, “Bille, you have on a life jacket. Are you sure you don’t want me to hold your stuff?”

The giant smile faded from my face as I repeated, “Life jacket?”

Why would I need a life jacket? You take off from the beach. You land on the beach. What’s with the life jacket? Life jacket?

My wife is actually much more intelligent than I am. She also doesn’t read this blog so don’t tell her I wrote that.

I quickly handed her everything I was carrying and headed off into the clear blue skies, and to my eternal destiny. No, it wasn’t that bad, but it could have been.

Take off was uneventful. I was quickly floating as high as the rope would allow me to go. The view was beautiful with all the tiny little people on the beach below, the beautiful blue waters going off to the horizon, the majestic mountains behind the city. I felt the wind caressing my face as I floated carelessly out to sea. The boat pulling me, far below, looked so tiny and weak.

In fact, the boat didn’t even look like it was moving. It looks like the man in the boat is waving his arms. All the tiny people on the beach seem to be waving their arms. But why are they waving? Oh well, I waved back.

The wind stops caressing my face. I realize the boat isn’t moving and now I am headed down into the ocean, FAST. Concerning the parachute, all I can say is, when the boat isn’t pulling you, you go down a lot faster than you’re supposed to.

I had about 15 seconds to get right with GOD, ask that the parachute not cover me, and prepare for ditching. I’m not sure how long it was before a boat came all the way out to where I was and rescued me. I am pretty sure a shark or two had already given thanks for the bountiful blessing from above. But thankfully, I was rescued and only suffered a sore back for a few days,

When the boat returned me to shore, I literally fell out into the surf and was mobbed by Police, spectators, the boat crew, a whole crowd had gathered to see the man who fell to earth. There was my wife, calmly documenting the whole ordeal through video and pictures.

She walked up and asked two things. “Are you okay?” Are you ready to go, now?”

This brings me to a life lesson, When It’s Time To Go…Go.

Do you remember the guy who lived with the bears a few years ago? He made documentaries with the bears. He got pictures with the bears. He lived amongst the bears and survived. Then one year, he left the bears and was headed home but decided to return to live with the bears a little bit longer. He and his girlfriend were eaten by the bears. He should have known…

When It’s Time To Go…Go.

In investing or trading, it’s called pulling the trigger. When someone has a losing position and experiences significant loss, the hardest thing to do is “pulling the trigger” on the next trade. Experienced traders have all experienced this but know…

When It’s Time To Go…Go.

In marketing, there are things known as triggers. Marketing Gurus do surveys and research and spend all kinds of money to determine what the triggers are and what the triggers mean. They prepare to spend millions of dollars on marketing around these triggers. They know if a trigger is hit it means…

When It’s Time To Go…Go.

There are many more examples of this principle, you probably could give me a few of your own to add to the list, but I’ll leave you with this one. If you’re sailing around the world on a cruise ship and your spouse says, “It’s time to go.” Always remember…

When It’s Time To Go…Go.


Keep Believing…

Bille Baty