When I was planning our ziplining adventure through the trees high above Queenstown, Sarah and I naturally had very different ideas about what constituted an appropriate amount of ziplining.

Sarah wanted to do the option with one zipline.

I wanted to do the one with six.

So, like any healthy marriage, we compromised—and I booked the one with three.

Honestly, it turned out to be perfect. We zipped between platforms high in the trees, and with each one, the views seemed to get better. Lake Wakatipu stretched out below us, mountains surrounded Queenstown in every direction, and the platforms themselves gave us some incredible views. It was one of those experiences that was just as much about the scenery as it was about the adrenaline.

I loved every second of it.

And, more importantly, so did Sarah.

She was having a great time. No complaints. No death stares. No questioning my vacation-planning privileges.

I was feeling pretty good about my decision.

Then we finished our third zipline, landed safely on the platform, and our guide casually announced:

“Okay, now it’s time for the drop.”

Sarah slowly turned and looked at me.

If looks could kill, this travel blog would now be written entirely by Sarah.

“The WHAT?!”

I immediately went into defense mode.

“I didn’t remember there was a drop. I swear.”

She stared at me like I had just told her I accidentally forgot there was a skydiving portion.

“How could you not remember? You literally booked this YESTERDAY!”

Fair question.

But I genuinely had forgotten.

Apparently, somewhere between reading about the beautiful views, the ziplines through the forest, and clicking Book Now, my brain had completely deleted the part where we would eventually be required to voluntarily step off a platform high in the trees.

Sarah turned to the guide.

“Do I have to do it?”

He paused for a second and said, “I would advise that you do…but I can’t make you.”

Not exactly the reassuring answer she was hoping for.

We decided to let the other people in our group go first, which I’m sure Sarah believed would somehow improve the situation.

It did not.

Eventually, it was our turn.

The instructions were simple: walk to the edge of the platform, stand with the front of your feet hanging off, and then step forward.

Simple.

We stood side by side at the edge, both with the front of our feet hanging over. I had already decided I wasn’t going anywhere until Sarah did. If she was stepping off that platform, we were doing it together.

The only problem was getting Sarah to actually take that step.

She moved forward.

Then back.

Forward again.

Then back again.

What followed can only be described as a very nervous little dance: one step forward, two steps back, repeated approximately ten times while I stood beside her waiting for the moment when we were finally going to go.

Every time I thought, Okay, this is it, she backed up again.

At some point, I’m pretty sure the guide realized that without intervention, the two of us might still be standing on that platform when the park closed.

Eventually, he gave Sarah a gentle push.

And just like that, off we went together.

The drop itself was over quickly, but apparently that did absolutely nothing to change Sarah’s opinion of it.

We reached the bottom safely, and she made her feelings very clear:

“Never again.”

And that was the end of our ziplining adventure.

Three beautiful ziplines, incredible views over Queenstown, one completely forgotten drop, and yet another reminder that whenever I tell Sarah, “Don’t worry, I planned everything,” she should probably ask a few follow-up questions.