I had about thirty minutes to see Fremont Street.
So, naturally, I decided to fly over it.
At 10 p.m. Alone. In my mid-40s. In the superhero position, which I would like to point out was not the original plan.
I was in Las Vegas for work, attending the netTerrain User Summit with my colleagues at Graphical Networks. My days were filled with conference commitments, not vacation plans. But I had carved out a little time after the workday for something that was just mine.
A zipline had always been on my bucket list. The superhero-style version had not. I thought that was a useful distinction.
But on the ride from New York–New York to SlotZilla, I mentioned to my Lyft driver that I had just seen Wayne Newton. She thought it was awesome that I was doing something from my bucket list. And if I was going to do SlotZilla, she suggested, I might as well do the superhero version.
Apparently, my bucket list was accepting amendments.
A very specific way to make friends
The young people working at SlotZilla were amazing. I was there on my own, and their kindness is part of what I remember about the experience.
Then there were the people in line. Mostly younger than me, some older, all of us about to do the same slightly ridiculous thing.
We bonded over the obvious question: what the heck were we doing, getting ready to fly off a building?
Age differences become a little less interesting when that is the shared activity.
I had gone by myself. I still got to share the experience with people. A good driver, a wonderful crew, and a line full of strangers became part of my night.
Those encounters are part of why I love Las Vegas even though I don’t drink or gamble. I remember the people as clearly as the lights.
And then I was flying, superhero-style, across five blocks of Las Vegas on the Zoom Line.
The flight itself lasted roughly a minute; the whole experience took me about thirty minutes.
I did get to see Fremont Street. Just with a bird’s-eye view.
Efficient sightseeing, really.
Thirty minutes that counted
I keep coming back to the fact that I had wanted to do this.
Caregiving involves so much attention turned toward other people: what they need, what will work, what needs planning, what might need changing. Those are important questions. They can also take up an awful lot of the available space.
There should be room for another question: what would I like to do?
That night, my answer happened to involve a zipline.
With anxiety in the mix, I’m grateful for people who make an unfamiliar experience feel welcoming. The wonderful crew and those strangers in line were part of what made this work for me.
There was something lovely about being on the receiving end of that care. The staff were there to help with the experience. The strangers beside me were sharing it. I could be the person trying something she had wanted to try.
Nobody needs to fly over Las Vegas to prove they are taking care of themselves. Wanting a quiet afternoon is a perfectly good answer, too.
I want us to have room for joy that belongs to us.
Self-care so often gets explained to caregivers as a way to become better at caring for everyone else. I understand why. I also think our own enjoyment deserves a place in the conversation without having to submit a business case.
I love my family. I also have a bucket list.
A good family life can make room for both. The person doing the caregiving belongs in that good life, with interests, adventures, and stories of her own.
Mine now includes Wayne Newton, a very influential Lyft driver, and flying across five blocks at 10 p.m.
I only had about thirty minutes to see Fremont Street.
I made them count.
