K9 Search and Rescue at 30,000 Feet
“How come it’s easier for me to jump out of the side of a helicopter at 13,000 feet with my avalanche dog to look for a dead guy than it is to talk to my husband about our relationship?”
I’m over two gin and tonics into my flight when I confess those words to a middle-aged Latino man sitting next to me inside the dimly lit cabin of the 747. I didn’t know him from Adam. Three-quarters of the way across the ocean from Miami to the Dominican Republic, my subconscious starts to bubble out like froth from a shaken bottle of champagne.