A little while after Andrew announced my birthday surprise, you know the one that had me hyperventilating and half screaming like I'd just spotted a caterpillar crawling into a rim, he threw down a challenge. Silly man. For a moment I thought he was kidding, because by now he should realize that I'd voyage into a piping hot volcano wearing sandals and a tube top if he Double Dog Dared me enough. It comes from a deep seated place of misguided confidence and juvenile naivete which produces routine entertainment for anyone within earshot. At my expense.
So Andrew says, "Who do you think will go first? Who's got the guts?"
And I can't believe that I'm about to admit this, because it will invite you all to confirm what you already suspect about me.
"What did you say? Wha-wha-WHAT did you say?!"
"You heard me. Who's tougher? You or me?"
After saying, "Whoa," sixteen or seventeen times I say, "Let's review. First, me. Skiied down a Black Diamond. Without ever having been on a slope. Came face to face with a jaguar in the wild. Swam with sharks. Jumped out of an airplane. Went rock climbing without a safety harness. Drove a motorcycle to Key West. I can keep going. You?"
"Well. You'd have a hard time being politically correct in half of the corporate meetings that I have to sit through. I'd give you fifteen minutes maximum, sweetheart."
"I fold. You've got me on that one."