It was dismal out. A light rain had been laying siege to the town all day. The temperature hovered between cold and chilly. I was driving in my beater of the time when I heard the local radio station was sponsoring a day at one of the local places of amusement: hosting batting cages, a golfing range and go carts. But a crane had temporarily set up shop for a new craze that was sweeping across America: bungee jumping.
When i first learned of bungee jumping, I immediately added to my mental checklist of things I wanted to try. It lay there for quite awhile, sitting patiently next to to sky diving and to the left of mountain climbing. When it came to the area, I, in typical procrastinator fashion, was able to click off a series of excuses not to do it. The main thing was the apparently large sum of money I would have to pay for such a brief activity.
But when the radio station announced that it was at a reduced price, my excuses fell short and that little part of me that liked to wave my shortcomings in my face trumped the procrastinator and made up my mind for me. I went home and started to call friends and family with the news. It was cheap, I explained, and now would be the time to do it. Called one, received an excuse. Then another, another excuse. Then three, then four.
Slackers. All of them.
It became apparent that this was going to be a solo excursion, so I snagged a couple of twenties and my lucky coat and headed to the USA Sports.
Perhaps it was the weather. Perhaps it it was was a whole series of creative procrastinators able to drum up better excuses than mine. But the place was empty. When I entered the Bungee jumping area, it was me, a couple of workers, a large yellow air bag and a crane.
I paid my money, and made some sort of off-colored joke while I signed the waiver. I find that when you are doing anything that requires signing such a piece of paper, it's best to not dwell on it and the kaleidoscope of maladies that could ruin a perfectly good crappy day and get on with the insanity.
I stepped onto the crane where a guy started equipping me with the stuff needed for my plunge. He said I had two options in which to hook the bungee cord: by the waist or by the feet. May as well do it right, right? I chose by the feet. He started strapping on the only device that would keep me from a headlong collision with the (hopefully effective) air bag. Used persistently by stunt men, I'm sure the airbag is pretty reliable, but I could not help but wonder if hitting it head first would have its drawbacks.
We reached the top. The lift had taken to swaying a bit in the breeze. I noted that this didn't help things along and stuffed it in the back of my head. The worker opened the gate and I shuffled to the edge, staring down at the distance that seemed far greater than it did from a safer vantage point. The airbag looked suspiciously like a postage stamp.
"Alright, you need to jump headfirst, like a dive." he said.
"Right." I said.
"Okay. I'm going to say 'One...two...three...bungee.' Then you jump. Okay?"
"Right."
And while that all seemed like a fair deal on the outside, my inside was telling me that I lied when I agreed to his terms. Every bit of common sense was knocking at the inside of my skull, saying, "There's no way you're going to do this, Kwapich. You are intentionally jumping out into a distance that could very well kill you. Head first."
My hands were like vice grips on the railing.
"One," he said.
"You know you basically have a rubber band strapped to your feet? You know I'm not going to let you do this."
"Two."
And I jumped.
I couldn't tell you why I did. I can't remember making the conscious effort, let alone put my finger on some resolve that overcame my rational side. I don't even know why I didn't let the guy get to three.
I had, at one point in my imagining that moment, decided that I would yell out something when I jumped. A unfettered cry of "WAHOOOOoooo" perhaps. But my throat would have none of that. There was no air coming out of that blow hole until I was sure I was going to make it out on my feet.
The equipment held. The bungee bungeed. And my vision blurred because every pint of blood in me was in my face. My coat and shirt were at my shoulders, my bare belly was at the mercy of the chilled rain. I must have looked quite foolish-like I was reverse depantsed.
But what a rush! I had an adrenaline buzz all day. I felt the thrill of a head on dive to the ground and lived to rub it in the faces of all my acquaintances who opted out. On top of that, I was able to check off another thing on my "wouldn't it be cool" list.
Would I recommend everyone else do it? Meh. Different strokes, and all that. But if you are a fan of roller coasters, it would probably be a good bet you'd enjoy this.
Would I do it again? I believe I probably would. But then I think it necessary to whack common sense with the ol' insanity stick now and again-just to let it know that it doesn't have a monopoly.
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