“That’s not a New Year’s Resolution. That’s a death wish.”

“What do you mean? I’ve wanted to take it up since I watched a virtual reality video of a guy winding through a canyon in one of those wingsuits. It looked so cool,” Fred said.

“I’ve seen some of those videos. You’ve got to be nuts to try it. Crazy to even consider doing it.” Pam got out her phone and started typing.

“Hey now, I’m an adventurer, not crazy.”

“I just googled it, and it’s estimated that one in five-hundred jumps result in death and you have to have skydived hundreds of times to do it.”

“I don’t want to skydive – just fly like a falcon.”

“Well, it also says that you land with a parachute. You’re dropping vertically at like sixty-five miles-per-hour.”

“That can’t be right, they can zip around like a bird.”

“It says that only one guy has ever survived a wingsuit landing without using a parachute.” Pam giggled and added, “It looks like ninety-seven percent of the people that die doing it are guys. Must be one of those Darwin things. Helps to weed stupid out of the gene pool.”

“Come on Pam, now you’re calling me stupid. A lot of people enjoy wingsuit flying. I just have to find one of them that will let me try out their suit. It can’t be all that hard and nobody would check my qualifications if I took off from a remote cliff. Maybe I’d aim to land in a lake.”

“I doubt you could swim in one of those outfits.”

“Hmm, you might be right. So, I’d just have to borrow a parachute too.”

“Have you ever skydived?”

“No, but I’m sure that I could pull a ripcord to land if I need to.”

“Well good luck with all that. My resolution will EXTEND my life. I’m going to cut eating ultra-processed foods by fifty percent.” Pam said proudly.

“See, that is so unexciting. Life must be boring and a drag being a female.”