Because I agreed without paying attention, I ended up–along with my daughter and grandson–at Ober Gatlinburg, an alpine amusement park where almost everything includes lots of altitude, of which I am terrified. First there was the chairlift which goes to the top of the mountain (I survived by looking up). I also survived a slide down the mountain with minimum embarrassment, and then we went on a ride that involves a small innertube sliding sideways on a watered-down mesh.
Of course, first you have to get to the top to ride it down. And to do so you have to ride up a moving sidewalk at a steep angle. Others made it look easy so I tried to climb on and immediately fell. The 20-something person in charge ran over, positioned her legs over the moving sidewalk and grabbed both of my hands. I fell again but managed, with much embarrassment, to right myself. When I got to the top, I grabbed my tube and as I was preparing to go down the guy in charge yelled “Lady get up,” I was facing the wrong way. I repositioned myself, took off and got stuck half way down.
Everything I did was wrong that day and I was scared the majority of the time. Not once did I look polished or in the know. And the same thing tends to happen to many of us at work or in other areas outside amusement parks. We’re concerned we may look foolish in the process of mastering something we’re not good at, and that fear keeps us from taking chances, speaking up or stepping outside our comfort zones, and in the process missing numerous opportunities.
The amusement park was definitely not my cup of tea, however I got used to feeling clumsy and out of my element, and surprised myself by adapting to the height thing without panicking. I even had a little fun. You never know what you’ll experience when you let go of perfection and comfort and pride, but it’s definitely a risk you might consider taking.
