I have a friend who was so utterly overwhelmed with the 5-year process of researching and writing her book, that when it was finally published, she couldn’t wait to escape to another country where she wasn’t tethered to computers, fax machines, phones, and utterly stressful jaunts to the airport Fed-Ex office during rush hour to be sure her manuscript would arrive at her publisher’s doorstep the next morning. As you may have surmised, this was before the internet and email (gasp) so everything that could possibly go wrong did, and the the cost of overnighting manuscripts every few days required remortgaging your house.

Anyway, she chose to escape to a country that was one of the furthest from her own city — New Zealand. And again, since this was before the internet there was no way for her to research her trip. No problem, she thought. She’ll just get one of their government published hospitality books that was essentially a rudimentary precursor to Airbnb. Along with listing hundreds of people’s homes by city, they would add little notes of what they had to offer along the lines of:

Little Johnny’s room who is now off to college. Available until he comes back for winter break. Breakfast with the rest of the family included. Sack lunches available. Just ask. And Squeaky the cat, who may even sleep with you if you leave the door open.

Well, the latter pretty much sealed the deal. So she immediately bought a highlighter and started marking ever single home that had a cat, and planned her trip accordingly — never mind whether it was a beautiful town. After all, it was really about the kitties of New Zealand.

The trip lasted six magical weeks, culminating the last day in a tandem skydive from a plane 10,000 feet up in the air. All would have been fantastic but for one little detail: the second they jumped out of the plane, she felt a searing pain in her hinter region. Turns out the harness between her legs pinched her vulva for the full 20 minutes that she was gracefully floating in the air.

Once they floated back to earth, the skydiving instructor who was harnessed to her back gleefully asked her whether she enjoyed it. With tears streaming down her cheeks, he assumed she was moved to tears from the experience. But with all the nerve she could muster up, she had to confess to him, a total male stranger, that if truth be told, the harness was pinching her vaginal lips the whole time.

At this point in the story, you may be thinking, ‘Well, why didn’t she just adjust it the second she first felt the pain?’ Good question. Here’s the thing—she was petrified that even moving a single arm would throw them off completely. And how do I know all of this?

Well, that friend in the story was actually me. And what did I learn from that experience? When in doubt, ALWAYS ask, even if you feel like you’re going to make a fool out of yourself. After all, humiliating experiences often make for the best stories moving forward.