My friends said they were taking me somewhere "fun." They strapped me into a machine on a mountain of steel. I understood. This was to be an honorable death. A boy in line ahead of me said: "Dude, this one's the scariest. People literally cry." So. Even warriors weep before this trial. I steadied my heart. The gatekeeper pulled a heavy bar down across my chest. "Lock it in tight — we don't want you flying out!" Even they feared I might not survive it. I gave a single nod. "Arms up! Big smile for the camera!" Yes. A warrior meets his end with his arms raised and no fear upon his face. I lifted my arms. I smiled. I was ready. The chain pulled us slowly toward the summit. Click. Click. Click. The long march to my fate. "HERE... WE... GOOOO!" The world fell away beneath me. I did not scream. I accepted everything. And then — I was still alive. The children around me were glowing, breathless, laughing, already reaching for my hand: "Let's go AGAIN!" They had faced death... for joy. In America, they build a mountain of steel to look death in the eye, scream with happiness, and then ask if you would like to do it one more time. I wanted to go again. I went six times. I have never felt so alive.