Since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to join the Mile High Club. My parents are proud members, and I love watching people give them approving nods of praise when they mention their exclusive membership. My dad joined in 1999 on his first trip to Colorado where he met a lady on his flight who explained how to participate. He said she was so exciting and magnetic that he knew joining was the right thing to do. He met my mom in 2002; she was so amazed that he was already a part of the Mile High Club that she demanded they fly to Denver immediately so she could share this passion with my dad.
They told me about the club when I was 17. Granted, I already had some indication this was a big part of their lives considering the photos they had in their bedroom of mile-high escapades. They let me know that they would love to welcome me to the Mile High Club but they understood that it was my choice. Considering this is a really big deal, I decided to take a little bit of time to think. The initiation process is more difficult now than it was in previous years and it’s not like we have a private jet. After a few months, I realized that, in my heart, I needed to partake in family tradition and join the Mile High Club. I wanted to talk with others about their initiation processes and any regrets they had about their first time Mile High.
I booked my flight to Denver so I could join on my 18th birthday (to avoid any legal complications). By the time I landed, I was so excited to be a mile above sea level that I didn’t care about the altitude. My eyes lit up when I saw Blucifer and the Rocky Mountains looming before me. The Uber drove downtown, stopping at the steps on 14th and Colfax. As I walked into the office, I took a breath before the course of my life changed. Now, I can say that I’m a proud member of the “Denver: The Mile High City Fanatics Club”, affectionately known by members as the Mile High Club. Go Broncos!
—A. Garcia
