We arrived in Wellington off the Picton ferry about 4.30pm, with a long, long drive ahead of us to Taupo, for our second visit of the trip. This time the visit had one clear focus – adrenalin.
Hereafter, the story will diverge, my version (in italics) and Schmo’s version!
Fiona
After much humming and hawing in Queenstown, I had reluctantly agreed to do a bungy jump with Schmo for his birthday. In return for my generosity, he agreed to do a sky dive with me. First thing on the morning of his birthday, we paid a visit to the local reasonably friendly tourist office to hand over the cash, so there could be no turning back.
After confirming the sky dive for the next day and the bungy to be completed at our leisure, I had plans for a relaxed morning in town. A nice cuppa in one of the many little cafes dotted around, maybe a spot of shopping, and somewhere, in the distant future a long drop and some elastic may have featured.
Schmo had other plans – he wanted his bungy, and he wanted it now. I agreed, on one condition – I was going first. If I saw him fly off the edge of a platform almost 50 metres up, there was no way I would follow.
So, we arrived, signed the usual forms – no, i won’t sue you if I cause myself serious injuries during this bungy, I might sue myself for the sheer stupidity of it though. I was getting more confident. All I had to do was stand up there and jump, don’t look down and it will be easy …. easier.
I went first, I walked into the preparation area, where my ankles were harnessed in. The guys engaged in the usual banter … “it’s his first day … ha ha” said one, nodding to the other. (I later found out it was actually genuinely only his second day). Still I was ok though – step up, look ahead and go.
Eventually, bungy cord attached, it was time to stand up. This was where it all went sour. For anyone who has not seen or done a bungy, the cord is necessarily quite long, and quite elasticy and so, quite heavy when its hanging over the edge of a 46m drop. My plan of a purposeful stride to the edge was hampered by this (mainly the fear the weight would pull me over before I was ready), and the fact that my feet were shackled together, reducing the purposeful stride to an undignified penguin shuffle. This also scuppered the “don’t look down” plan. It is hard to penguin shuffle to the edge of a platform with a heavy cord between your legs, without once or twice checking you are on track and not about to trip yourself. Huston, we have a problem. All my plans … ruined … I saw the river below, the cliffs to the side, and the 46metre drop I was supposed to be taking. No way – its just not going to happen.
The poor guy on the platform, he must have to deal with this umpteen times a day. To my benefit though, it meant he was pretty good at coaxing nervous jumpers. A few words of reassurance and he got me to the edge, persuaded me I could do it, that I would wonder why I was so afraid in 2 minutes time, then lifted my arms up and before I had a chance to change my mind, nudged me off the edge …. in the first few nano seconds the thoughts in my mind ranged from “he did not just do that, oh my god he did, I can’t believe he pushed me, this is so brilliant, why was I afraid” this was roughly about the point where in my bungy afflicted brain thought the appropriate thing to do was shout back up to my kind assistant “THAAAAAANNKK YOUUUUUU” swiftly followed by “YOUUU WEEERRREEE RRIIIIIIGGGHHHTT!” all cringingly picked up by the microphones and proudly displayed on my courtesy DVD.
Schmo
Here I am Patiently standing outside the Bungy Corral. My ridiculous idea of a birthday treat. Fiona has reluctantly agreed to jump off a ledge in exchange for me jumping from a moving aircraft, a fair trade one might think. As she is a little nervous she has decided that she is going to venture out first. I witness her being readied for her jump. Legs strapped in, ropes double checked. She walks or more accurately waddles to the edge. With the Bungy instructor standing behind her explaining the intricacies of a prize jump she freezes. She has no intention of going through with it. She backs off and point blank refuses to go. The instructor being well versed in these matters reassures her. After some negotiating and a gentle but firm push she is away. A blood curdling scream comes first quickly followed by a clear thanks to the man who has just pushed her over a 46 metre ledge. I peer over the edge to see a dangling Fiona being retrieved by the river boat.
Now it’s my turn. With some pleasantries out of the way and wanting my jump to dip me into the river its down to business. After keeping my cool for so long and thinking this was going to be an easy task, I’ve been rattled by Fiona’s reluctance. I’m strapped in and all the previous checks are repeated. I waddle to the edge and confess that I too am unable to do this. But before the sentence is fully out of my mouth my legs have taken over and jumped for me. I too scream but mine sounds more like a teenage boy whose voice is breaking.
Who would have thought that jumping off a platform would be the perfect substitute for blowing out 29 candles.
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