Prima Gems: Fear Factor 2026

Some people go to Tucson for gems.

We went for gems… and apparently obstacle courses.

One evening after the show, instead of reviewing inventory or politely networking, we found ourselves standing in a circle holding hands, staring at two hula hoops like they were part of a psychological experiment.

The rules were simple. Which means they were not simple.

Two hoops. One big. One small.
Pass them around the circle.
Do not break hands.
At some point, they must cross each other.

That last part is where it all fell apart.

There is something deeply humbling about trying to step through a hula hoop while maintaining eye contact with your coworkers. Add a second hoop moving in the opposite direction, and suddenly, everyone is a logistics expert, and no one has ever heard of mobility drills. Ever. 

“Wait. Wait. WAIT.”
“Lift your arm.”
“No, the other arm.”
“Why is this one smaller?”

The idea of adding a smaller hoop is where it became personal.

Somewhere in the circle were siblings who very clearly had not held hands since the womb. Have you ever heard the sound of a tray of gems falling? That’s how LOUD their disgust was. Audible sighs. Dramatic eye rolls. The kind of physical recoil that suggests they’ve spent their entire lifetime side-eyeing each other. Unfortunately for them, Ninja Survival Tucson does not make exceptions for family dynamics. Hands were held. Boundaries were tested. No Growth occurred. At all.

At one point, someone attempted what can only be described as interpretive gymnastics. The larger hoop glided around the group with mild cooperation. The smaller one required strategy, negotiation, and what felt like a trust exercise disguised as cardio. Eventually, they crossed. We did not break hands.

We may have broken dignity. But we did not break hands.

The next activity involved two long pieces of string. The objective? Untangle ourselves without letting go.

This was presented as a calm puzzle.

It was not calm.

There was stepping over arms, ducking under elbows, someone slowly rotating in place like a confused compass, and at least one person whispering, “This feels symbolic.”

By the end, we were somehow facing outward, untangled, and mildly impressed with ourselves.

Then we went back to our separate rooms. 

We discovered that Tucson team bonding includes ambient desert audio.

We never saw the coyotes.

But we heard them.

Very clearly.

Very close.

There is nothing that bonds a team faster than lying in separate bedrooms silently calculating whether coyotes can open doors.

We survived.

We sold stones.

We passed hoops.

We untangled strings.

We slept through the desert soundtrack.

And somehow, all of it felt very on brand.

Because if bonding teaches us anything, it’s this: Great sourcing requires flexibility. Physically AND emotionally.