Friday I taught a class about photography. To a room full of people.
As if that weren’t enough to cause panic and emotional destruction attending the class required an 11 minute gondola ride.
Brittany thought “Gondola? BOAT!”
Brittany quickly learned that in Utah gondola means “bouncy suspended death cage!”
As did I.
I rode up alone.
Up. ZOMG with the up.
And then there was the service guy walking to the tower was about to pass over. No thank you. No.
Once I crested the top I figured I’d see a lodge and in my mind I was thinking “11 minutes? Pfft. Apparently SMT (standard Mormon time) applies to gondola rides as well.”
Only here’s the thing.
Once you crest the top?
YOU’RE SUSPENDED HUNDREDS OF FEET OVER CERTAIN DEATH.
Which results in this.
Once I made it to the top I warned the gondola worker that a little warning about flying over the grand canyon would have been nice. He said he’d be sure to let them know.
I think he was lying.
This conference was fun.
Suspended death cage included.