My first time in a helicopter was not smooth at all. Nothing James Bond about the way I approached this. I saw it as a great chance to get some shots of Puerto Rico from a different vantage point, and see the city from up high. As I got into the helicopter the pilot handed me what looked like a little blue fanny pack, which he referred to as a safety device. I thought to myself, “This thing won’t do anything to prevent me from hitting the ground very hard after falling out of the helicopter. The only thing it may do is help my dead body float to the ground so that I can be carried away.” On top of that they then told me that there was no door on my side. This was done to allow me to shoot with no glass as a distraction. I appreciate it, but I’d rather have a door. I literally got out and decided that maybe me going up in this helicopter was not the move. Brandon decided he’d take my place but not having a strap for his camera, and not being able to fit my rendered him helpless and gave me time to grow a pair. I got back on the helicopter and decided to take advantage of this opportunity. 

The pilot was not reassuring. 5 seconds in the air and he’s talking about how bad the weather is for flying, and all of a sudden a gust of wind pushes the helicopter in an awkward direction. I’m holding on to the cross bar so tight that I think I left fingerprints indented in the bar. Every now and then I’d open my eyes and have the courage to squeeze the trigger on my camera to capture what was actually very beautiful and amazing. If only I wasn’t so scared, I’d be able to relish in the fact that I have a bird’s eye view of San Juan.

If I wasn’t a man with pride, I would have pissed on myself, I was that scared. Thank God it ended how it began.  I’m mad I did it.  I’m glad I did it