The Rapture of Adventure

                             

“I want to thank you all for coming to my twenty-second birthday soirée,” I said beaming at the eager faces looking up to me, “I’m sure it is an honor for you all to be in attendance.”

A busboy in his starched red shirt came to clear away the pizza trays.  I gave him my fiercest glare and he ran back to the kitchen, fearing for his job after crossing me during such an important occasion me. I made a mental note to speak with his manager after I finished my speech.

“As you all know,” I began, “adventure is in my blood.”

A twitter of excitement bubbled up around me.

“I climbed the highest peak in Kansas when I was only ten, took a solo canoe trip across the perilous Marion Lake Reservoir at twelve and spent the summer of my fourteenth year exploring the dangerous depths of Washington Park Arboretum.”

My words were met with the polite laughter of people who understood what struggles I had faced with each of these challenges.

“As such, it should come to no surprise that I pushed myself to new heights over the last three-hundred and sixty-five days!”

“Oh, Philip,” my mother said, beside herself with excitement, “do tell them what you did!”

I could always rely on her to hang on my every word.

“This year I traveled across the vastness of the Pacific to an exotic island that not so long ago was home to cannibalistic savages.”

The people leaned in closer.

“In this land of sun and palm trees, with danger lurking around every corner I ascertained the location of a sacred place named Le’ahi from a man who may have been a shaman, or possibly be a mad man. White men call it Diamond Head.”

Mother very nearly squealed with delight. 

“I followed his directions closely.  The trip took most of the day and I hiked high into the mountains of that humid and sweaty island.  I nearly succumb to the oppressive heat and the elevation several times.  I did, however, prevail in the end.”

I listened to the twitter of approval from my rapt audience.

“What lay before me I cannot adequately describe, but paradise comes close.  I was exhausted by my travels but knew that I couldn’t lay my head in this heaven on earth, so instead, I hiked out of the ancient mountain forest and returned to the mad man.  He honored me for my accomplishment with a beer that was reserved for only the bravest of warriors.  I have returned to civilization with gifts for you all.”

I pulled a bag of cheap trinkets from my pocket and tossed it on the table.  Silver babbles and beads fell from it.

“What will you do this year?” asked my young cousin.

“This year,” I said, “I will hunt ghosts in the ancient crescent city of Vieux Carre. Where the old streets hold tales of vampires and witches and black magic.”

“Oh, I do love New Orleans,” exclaimed mother.