Forgive me for I am guilty of a serious omission. In a recent column about my trip to New Zealand, I listed various outdoor activities enjoyed there, but failed to mention New Zealand’s own pride and joy—bungee jumping.
For those of you who have enjoyed a sheltered life, bungee jumping is a relatively new sport whereby an individual comes to a high bridge and jumps off it. It used to be called suicide until somebody down under figured out how to make it a money maker.
The way it works is this---you jump off a bridge with your ankles tied together, and just as you are about to plunge headlong into the river, you hopefully bounce back up because of the rope's elasticity. You then dangle upside down like a carcass in a slaughterhouse until people come in a boat and mercifully cut you down.
Being the kind of person who only believes what he actually sees firsthand, I drove a few minutes outside of Queenstown to see if there really were people foolhardy enough to jump off a bridge for sport. Not only were people lined up waiting to jump, but they actually paid for the privilege. Isn’t that simply remarkable!
A friend of mine who served many years with distinction in the United States House of Representatives tells me he actually bungee jumped when he was in New Zealand. Who says our Congressmen lack courage.
As for me, not only will I not pay to plummet, I doubt there is enough gold in Fort Knox for me to contemplate such an act. I love lying in a hammock but refuse to do it if a strong breeze starts up.