I don’t like heights. At 6’1” tall, sometimes I stand up too quickly and that’s an issue. Ladders and ledges are not for me. Jumping out of a plane? Only IF IT CANNOT LAND. Then I’ll be the first guy out of the chute. I sort of knew this – but it was solidified that one time I was convinced to bungee jump of train trestle in Australia.
Standing at the edge with “Gary”, our safety expert and guide (how old WAS Gary? He looked to be about 16) my “Friends” howling around me with encouragement I began to sweat. My head felt like an over-filled balloon and I couldn’t feel my arms OR legs. Mumbling around my seemingly over-sized tongue I began the process of chickening out “You Know Guys, 4 , “I really don’t…”, 3 , “Think that…”, 2 , “I…IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”!
They never got to one and I plummeted like a stone Angel dropped from London Bridge. Shrieking and crying and swearing the whole way down.
Never again.
