The bucket list, that magical exercise in which even the most jaded of humankind loves to engage. Normally, it is about visiting exotic locales far from home, work and problems. Reykjavik and Bora Bora must be on many lists. When I first heard about this bucket list I scoffed, since I thought it was patently silly. But after time went by, I secretly started to put my list together.
Like many others, it was full of geographic locales: some places not yet visited and many re-visits, as I called them. You see, when I got into it, I had categories! Places never visited, re-visits, five-star hotels and restaurants, and then buried deep in the list, the oddities.
No, not jumping out of a plane or scaling Mount Kilimanjaro, but things much more attainable and possible. Climbing on the world’s fastest roller coaster was out; so was one of those vertical drop elevator-like rides. Even the venerable Space Mountain was out!
My last bucket list item turned a lot of eyebrows northward: It was to visit San Quentin prison. Through a contact at the prison, I made it. I was an inmate for 3.5 hours. Ka-check!
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