My aunts and godmother were trying to pressure me to go parasailing, because according to them I should enjoy myself more often and not let my fears sabotage my life. Well, I didn’t agree with them. I told them that such activities don’t interest me—reading a nice book as I interred my feet in the sand, did, on the other hand. I was going parasailing with my cousin. They came up with the idea early in the morning, and until noon I stubbornly opposed it. In true honesty, I was just terrified and I just kept coming up with all kinds of excuses to avoid going parasailing. Despite that, a little part of me deep inside wanted to get on that thing and fly for a while.

As we walked down the cacophonous Tonsupa streets infested with flip flop-wearing sunburnt tourists, I dwelled on my frustration and my insecurity and my fears. Among the chaos of fried banana vendors, dusty streets and salsa music, I was able to find some sort of space for reflection. All I could think about was the fear that haunted me like a horde of mad fire ants on my flesh.

Upon arrival to our favorite restaurant, I ordered a portion of ceviche and soda. Everyone sat at the restaurant table and began to discuss the adventure that was about to take place, everyone but me. My soda tasted metallic. I truly wanted to go, but my fear was just overwhelming.

“So, have you finally agreed to go parasailing? this is supposed to be a fun experience, don’t spoil it for you with that stubbornness,” said my aunt.
“No, I’m not going. Look, I already said I’m not interested so I would appreciate if you all quit pressuring me,” I said as I stabbed a piece of shrimp with my fork. I put a piece of shrimp in my mouth and silently looked at her. The fire ants now were racing down my esophagus and into my stomach, burning and biting everything in their way. To look at her felt almost as if I were looking at my mother. As that piece of shrimp landed in my insides, I felt as if I had swallowed mercury. I could not stand this anymore. I could not stand being confronted for my fears and by my fears, so I left without the keys to the condo. All I knew was that I needed a break.

I didn’t really go anywhere; I just looked at the parasailing parachute gliding in the distance. Soon I saw my family lining up near the parasailing booth in the shore. The fire ants were now translucent soldiers in plate armor, ambushing, assaulting, and plaguing me. It was the moment—I had to draw my sword. I resolved that I was going to do it. In the middle of the beach I fought an invisible army. I was a soldier in an imaginary battlefield. The beach was a battlefield. One by one, fear by fear, they all succumbed to my sword. More ants were coming, so I fled. This time I was not avoiding them, but confronting them. It was the ultimate quest. I had to get to the booth, get on the parachute and fly.

Once strapped in place, the boat began to drag the parachute and we took off. We passed above the people on the beach, and the buildings on the shoreline kept getting smaller and smaller. I felt like never before. I was five again, when I rode an airplane for the first time. They were right. I never lived life because of my fears, but now that I had overcome one, I felt alive, truly alive. The fire ants had been left at the beach, and hopefully they’ll remain away there. I had won the victory over myself. I was free.