Bungee babe

March 2, 2008

Photo: Flickr/Melyviz

Standing 164 feet above ground the wind whipped around my body. I began to feel fragile and heavy. With a headache from the night before, a queasy stomach and my heart pounding in my ears I inched myself toward the edge. I didn’t recognize anyone except the crazy man yelling, “jump!” The unspoken “cool” rule is to do as many wild and idiotic things while abroad as possible. I just never imagined myself bungee jumping in Cairns, Australia with total strangers. Why couldn’t I have just settled with a tattoo or piercing?

To explain how I got to this point, I must go back to six months following college graduation. In a search to “find myself”, I packed my bags and moved to Sydney, Australia. Surely I would discover myself while eating shrimp on the barbie. What I found instead was a love for spontaneous travel and adventure.

On one particular excursion to see the Great Barrier Reef, my roommate and I set off to Cairns. After dropping off our bags and throwing on our swimsuits we ran outside to discover a cyclone in the middle of our precious reef. We pleaded with the excursion desk, “But it’s the Great Barrier Reef! What if we just looked over the boat railing?”

We spent our first day with a loony Canadian in the rainforest. With nothing else to do, we decided to rent a car and explore dry land with our new friend. Our get-to-know-you conversation went something like, “Nice to meet you Chris. Do you promise you’re not a crazy killer?” Chris was definitely not a killer. The man didn’t want me to hurt a leech sucking the blood from my leg. He was lying about the crazy part though. He made us look at every single rock, leaf and branch. At first I thought it was interesting, but after five hours of, “Quick, over here! It’s a pretty rock,” we were ready to drink.

And drink we did. That night we partook in the hostel’s “get-to-know-you” drinking games, followed by a bungee jumping presentation given by AJ Hackett’s, a local bungee jumping facility. Had I been the organizer I might have held the drinking games after the presentation, but where’s the sense in that?

I’m not sure how it got to this point, but by the end of the night I was handing my credit card over to two crazy bungee jumping Aussies! Maybe it was the techno music, cute boys signing up or the two-for-one special. Either way, I was signed up for bungee jumping the next morning while my roommate was on the early flight back to Sydney. The next morning I laid awake with a hangover and panic. All I could hear was the presenter yelling, “I’ve jumped a thousand times and look at me!!”

Two hours later, I was looking at that same erratic face saying the same thing. Except this time he was tying a bungee cord to my ankles and we were standing over a pool of water 164 feet away. That’s the equivalent of twenty-two Shaquille O’Neals.

The walk up to the platform was brutal. The group of Irishmen (not so cute now), got quieter as we made our way towards the top. The light drizzle began to feel more like hail. I didn’t take the time to make new friends. I figured they would just freak me out. I kept my eye on the horizon hoping I was gazing upon the Great Barrier Reef from very, very far away.

There was no structure to bungee jumping. I wouldn’t expect structure coming from two Aussies that spend their day 160 feet above ground tied to a harness. It was my responsibility to make myself jump and there was no way I was backing out. I was not the kind of girl to pay for something and not get her money’s worth. I once made five trips to the all-you-can-eat salad bar at Ruby Tuesday’s in one night.

The first person I saw jump was a large Irishman. He resembled the cowardly lion as he was pushed to the edge. With nothing but the air to grasp, the poor man shook his hands faster than the hand jive before he finally fell. I watched one jump after another. The horror in these warriors’ eyes intensified as they stepped to the ledge and finally looked down. I realized what I had to do.

With my adrenaline pumping, I instructed the “expert” tying my bungee cord how this was going down. I made that wacky instructor pick me up, place me on the ledge and push me over. Before I had time to think, I was sailing head-first into a pool of water. The fall was long and wide turning my stomach upside down. I soon reached ground level, my arms dipping in the pond before the bungee cord yanked me back toward the sky. By that time, I was smiling. After a few more jerks my experience was complete.

I didn’t use my second jump. One was plenty. The adrenaline was enough to keep me going for the rest of my trip. I quickly made new friends and celebrated.

When I think back to this moment, I am reminded of how liberating it felt to face my fear on my own and take the plunge. Granted, I had a shove, but every once and awhile we need one.

About the Author:Erin Jowett is an Account Executive for the Chicago Sun-Times, primarily because it continues to pay for elaborate travels. Before moving to Chicago, Erin lived in Sydney, Australia for six months and, since that adventure, has made it a mission to continue to travel. Read about Erin’s humorous experiences in Chicago and abroad at Erin Pot Pie