The Bungy After The Night Before

Queenstown is the extreme adventure sports capital of New Zealand and most probably the world.

That's why just a few hours ago I found myself atop the Karawau Bridge, the place where bungy jumping got it's start, at a height of 43 metres above the river itself.

After the skydiving I should be a veteran at heights but there is much more personal choice to bungy than tandem skydiving.

Marcus has also volunteered to risk life and limb despite promising his mother that he wouldn't do a jump, anyway, the dvd will soon wing it's way back to Manchester.

They play music at the top of the jump to take your mind off things, Papa Was a Rolling Stone will now always relate to bungy for me, I guess.

So we went out last night. And things went well and then not so well and now I'm suitably unimpressed with myself. No, I didn't do anything that bad and probably wherever your imagination is going to take you will be far from what happened.

Let's just say instead of being cool as, I acted like an idiot and have probably spoilt something that was turning really sweet.

So is a bungy jump a fit punishment?

Maybe.

Trouble is, the girl standing on the viewing platform in the blue top across from my precarious ledge is not impressed by bravado. Whatever I do up here ain't going to rescue the situation.

"Water touch?"

A firm no thanks.

"You'll be right mate."

Great, you don't even get a choice anymore.

So I jumped, they dunked me and I cheated death one more time.

Hanging upside down and then retrieved by the raft in the river.

Adrenalin is the religion of New Zealand.

I just can't help feeling shitty today however.