I was flying high, parasailing in Key West. Then the towline broke | Opinion

My obsession with parasailing began in the ‘90s. It should have stopped there.

The first time I got up in the air was in Mexico, with a parachute above and only a thin rope holding me beneath. In those days, you had to run off the beach and into the ocean as your boat accelerated and the wind filled your sails.

Ominously, I was undeterred by the fact that another foolish tourist like me had crashed into a building a few days before and fell to his death near Cancun’s famed hotel zone.

You accept the risks, sign a waiver and know it is completely unregulated. The problem is, it is in no way substantially better today.

Maybe it was my fear of heights that pushed me to this nonsense. In tall buildings, I felt a profound unease and paralysis that wouldn’t allow me to enjoy vistas and cityscapes.

But flying? For whatever reason, that wasn’t a problem. In fact, it was exhilarating, freeing.

Until I parasailed in Key West.

A bad memory

When I read the news this week that a mother had lost her life parasailing in the Keys, a harrowing memory from a decade ago resurfaced.

My wife had never gone up, and I convinced her it was safer than it had ever been. You got strapped into a snug harness on the boat and airlifted off the back. No running off the beach. No single thread of rope underneath. You floated in the air and enjoyed the wind bouncing you around, easing back down onto the deck when your time was up and another harnessed couple was awaiting their turn. I had done it many times over many bodies of water.

On that day in Key West, though, there would be only one ride. Ours.

In a boat piloted by two young men, we glided into cloudless skies and reached about 300 feet, looking out over 12 miles of paradise. If you put your finger and thumb together, that would represent the size of the boat we saw from above.

Then I heard a loud ping and bang that I’ll never forget. The taut cable that was keeping us stable and in the air snapped and then went flat, dropping casually toward the ocean. Immediately, it occurred to me that we had a major problem.

There was little time to communicate. I turned to Holly and simply said, “Brace yourself, we’re going to hit the water.”

Like a movie

The plunge was rapid and within seconds we were on top of the ocean and then deep under. It was a movie scene, where you wake up and there’s sea rumble in your ears and bubbles in front of you and you look up and see the surface high above.

After looking for Holly and not finding her, I came up as quickly as possible but got caught under the parachute now hugging the surface. It was drowning me, and I kicked and wiggled for what seemed like a long time before I was able to break free.

When I surfaced, Holly was 20 feet away, and the boat in the distance was crashing through waves as it raced to help us.

Somehow, in that moment, we just laughed, and because this was her first time, she had the grace and ease of someone who thought this was all part of the ride. The context — and delayed panic — would come later, on dry land.

When the boat reached us, the other customers were blanched — and done for the day. The kids captaining the boat were apologetic and explained how the towline had failed. They headed back to shore offering refunds and/or subsequent rides. Sadly, I took them up on their offer and we went the next day, illustrating that a) I’m stubborn and competitive; and b) statistically speaking I’d probably survive.

Even after that close call, we didn’t take it seriously enough and, sometimes, we still have to remind ourselves of how perilous that moment really was.

When I saw the news this week, I thought of the incredible fear that mom must have felt for herself and her family as they were dragged through the water toward an unforgiving old bridge. The fact that their line was severed by the boat captain underscores many of the challenges of parasailing, especially in dodgy weather conditions.

At least we were victims of an accident.

It has reminded me that commercial parasailing needs a much-tougher examination. The industry has had long-exposed flaws, but has surreptitiously escaped serious regulation. A few key changes would make the experience much safer for people who otherwise don’t trust it.

I’ve parasailed since Key West. But no more until we make it safer.

Mike Fannin is president and editor of The Kansas City Star. He has worked at The Star since 1997, serving as its top editor since 2008.

This story was originally published June 1, 2022 at 3:14 PM.