I've been out of Nutella for the past day and I'm going through withdrawl. Right now I'm pretty sure that my refrigerator is going to eat me.
There are very few things in this world that make me cry. Actually, the list is pretty short. Pepper Spray. When Arrested Development got cancelled. And, of course, Brian's Song (But in the third case, my tears essentially act a lubricant).
But bungy jumping nearly broke onto the list at #4.
Over spring break, we hit up Queenstown, the extreme sports capital of the world (or so it said on its "Welcome to" sign). No visit to Q-Town is complete without facing one of your fears. For our group, that meant bungy jumping off of the Nevis highwire, the tallest jump in the world (134 meters).
We had to take a gondola out to the platform. Once firmly there, I looked looked up at the mechanism. It was an intricate system of bungy cords and machinery, yet it still seemed somewhat flimsy to support people jumping off suspended only by a cable. It felt very scary knowing that my entire life was placed on the shoulders of an inanimate carbon rod.
I also have to admit that I probably wouldn't have even been at this point had I not already paid for it. Wasted money is always a great motivator. So the bungy pros called my name and sat me down in a sort of dentist/torture chair. They locked my feet onto the bungy cord and firmly attached my harness to my chest. All the while, I've got Hell's Bells going on the iPod. So now that I had suited up, it was time for the plunge.
I stood out onto the platform and all of my previous machismo sunk down 134 meters. I think that the DVD of the jump has to be edited for profanity at this point, because I started swearing like the Director's Cut of "Shaft." "What the f**k am I doing up here? Holy f**king Jesus. Hail f**king Mary." The bungy guy came up behind me and then began to count down from 3. But there was no way in hell that 3 seconds could prepare me. So I asked for a countdown starting at 5. But instead of nice, slow counting, he sped through those numbers. I'm not sure what happened at this point, but the fear of being called a wuss outweighed that of heights so I just jumped off.
And for the next nine seconds you could call me Tom Petty the way I was freefalling.
By the time they pulled me back up, I wasn't sure if I was laughing or crying or maybe a little of both. But I did keep saying "I wanna do it again." I likely I would of, if I weren't broke at that point.
-MGD
There are very few things in this world that make me cry. Actually, the list is pretty short. Pepper Spray. When Arrested Development got cancelled. And, of course, Brian's Song (But in the third case, my tears essentially act a lubricant).
But bungy jumping nearly broke onto the list at #4.
Over spring break, we hit up Queenstown, the extreme sports capital of the world (or so it said on its "Welcome to" sign). No visit to Q-Town is complete without facing one of your fears. For our group, that meant bungy jumping off of the Nevis highwire, the tallest jump in the world (134 meters).
We had to take a gondola out to the platform. Once firmly there, I looked looked up at the mechanism. It was an intricate system of bungy cords and machinery, yet it still seemed somewhat flimsy to support people jumping off suspended only by a cable. It felt very scary knowing that my entire life was placed on the shoulders of an inanimate carbon rod.
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I also have to admit that I probably wouldn't have even been at this point had I not already paid for it. Wasted money is always a great motivator. So the bungy pros called my name and sat me down in a sort of dentist/torture chair. They locked my feet onto the bungy cord and firmly attached my harness to my chest. All the while, I've got Hell's Bells going on the iPod. So now that I had suited up, it was time for the plunge.
I stood out onto the platform and all of my previous machismo sunk down 134 meters. I think that the DVD of the jump has to be edited for profanity at this point, because I started swearing like the Director's Cut of "Shaft." "What the f**k am I doing up here? Holy f**king Jesus. Hail f**king Mary." The bungy guy came up behind me and then began to count down from 3. But there was no way in hell that 3 seconds could prepare me. So I asked for a countdown starting at 5. But instead of nice, slow counting, he sped through those numbers. I'm not sure what happened at this point, but the fear of being called a wuss outweighed that of heights so I just jumped off.
And for the next nine seconds you could call me Tom Petty the way I was freefalling.
By the time they pulled me back up, I wasn't sure if I was laughing or crying or maybe a little of both. But I did keep saying "I wanna do it again." I likely I would of, if I weren't broke at that point.
-MGD
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