A dose of Los Cojones

Mid-June, a sunny Saturday (with the usual probability of turning into a stormy afternoon, courtesy: perpetually stoned Dutch weather), us walking towards the Scheveningen beach in Den Haag, pretending to  care two hoots while my insides were on their very own multi-level uber queasy roller coaster ride. Yowza. Entered the premises, signed the "we-are-not-responsible-if-you-meet-your-horrible-end" form; such a great way to calm my already over-hyped nerves I must say. A foggy horizon view of the North Sea and oh, a horde of gleeful strangers staring at the bunch of us wondering if we had the cojones to take the plunge, their way of getting a major adrenalin rush for the day. Pansies.

Which brings me to: Did I have ze famed cojones?

The flight&fight stress response in me had gone completely haywire by now: my right leg wanting to make a dash for the nearest tram and never again seeing my date while my lefty TRIED taking a bold step forwards. Holy crap, is this that shitting-in-your-pants feeling? Maybe calming myself down would help. Next thing I know I'm humming Mariah Carey's "Emotion". Sure, by now people think I'm completely cuckoo including the hottie beside me but atleast I didn't scream "We're all going to DIE!" and flee. 

Chanting "ImOkayOwC'monI'veWantedThisForeverHolyCrapWhat AmIDoing HereToHellWithTheDateRunForYourLifeEeeyaaah" I strapped on the cords and stepped into the cage.

Oh.Hell.Yeah.

By now, just by the looks of the people looking at me I felt like a total rockstar. No superstar. Well, both. I was already super ecstatic by now, there was really no way of looking back unless I made a dash with the ropes tied around my feet and trip atleast 10 people on the way.

With Mariah Carey's Emotion playing on full blast in my head, I stepped in the cage, shot a winning smile at my date (tell me you bought it, J) and proceeded to be lifted 60 metres up in the sky, over the ocean.

I wasn't scared or anything at this point, really pepped up and excited- this is what I'd always wanted to do. Any second now, the instructor would tell me to place my feet over the end of the cage and just jump.

And then fate/destiny/universe/bad timing/bad luck decided to get my cage stuck mid-air. There I was, dangling 60m above sea level, staring at ant-sized people pointing at me and clicking photos. 

Cue to my head thinking *...blank..*. At this point, some fear and severe flight-reponse started creeping up. Trust me, stuck hanging on a swinging cage 3 floors above the sea is not something you'd look forward to. Anyway, after a few minutes, I was given the green signal. 

Of course, my guts/confidence/cojones had long left while I stared at my feet, heels over the cage plank and toes in mid-air. I really couldn't turn back- so I took a deep breath and.. started singing Emotions out loud.

"I don't know if you're for real~~

But I like the way I feel.. insaaaaIIIIAAAAAAAAAAWHOOOOAAAAAeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaa!!"

Bungee jump baby!  It was the most incredible feeling in the world, this wave-a surge of uncontrollable adrenalin shooting through my head, my entire body, I never knew I could get this heady.

By the first tug, I had taken the entire feel in a stride and was just enjoying the free fall. By the second tug, I tried doing some cool poses for the camera- sadly they all came out looking like the chicken quack dance. But the rush of adrenalin- holy guacamole. I knew I'd become an adrenalin junkie. 

One of the best moments of my life. I've loved speed and the adrenalin rush all my life. I always knew I wanted to do the bungee if only to test if I had the guts to voluntarily step off a plank into thin air. It wasn't just about the sport, it was about testing myself.

And hell, I was proud of myself.