was exactly the thing I was not up for doing. I remember being sat in their office when they told me about the Bucket List idea and Stephen mentioned bungee jumping, and I said, ‘If that’s the sort of things you’ll be surprising me with, you’re wasting your time ’cos I’m not interested.’ If it’s over in seconds, what’s the point? I don’t like party poppers ’cos the amount of enjoyment versus the time it takes to clean them up is not worth it. Same with confetti.
Luke the director tried to reinforce what Stephen’s message had already said about it being safe and that the ‘dudes’ who would be taking me do it all the time and would help me beat my fears, which pissed me off even more as it’s not a fear that needs to be beaten. I’m happy that my brain doesn’t think it’s a good idea to jump off ledges that are high up. To me that means it’s doing its job, that’s the reaction it should have. I know my brain isn’t very interested in maths or politics, which annoys me at times, but that doesn’t put the rest of my body in any danger, so as far as I’m concerned it’s not a ‘fear’ that needs fighting. I’ve heard of koumpounophobia, which means your brain is scared of buttons. There was a woman on the news who had it so bad she couldn’t even sit and watch the kids’ TV programme Button Moon. It was like a horror movie to her, and she couldn’t turn the TV off, or over, because that would involve more buttons. Now, that’s a fear that needs beating.
I’m convinced the reason they don’t make James Bond movies anymore is because the stunts he used to do no longer impress us as people do that stuff on a wet Thursday afternoon in an office team building session. Even sweaty Pete from IT manages to get his fat arse into a jumpsuit so he can do a tandem jump with his head of department. I also blame medical advancement – would people still risk injuring themselves if they knew no doctor would be able to repair their broken arms and legs? If I worked at A&E I would put anyone who has an accident doing any of the above at the back of the queue and sort out people who have had a genuine accident first.
I was arguing with Luke about my reasons for not wanting to do it when a few car beeps stopped my flow. I looked outside where two young fellas in a camper van were shouting my name. I went out on to the balcony.
BLOKES: We got a call from your mates Ricky and Stephen, and they want us to look after you today, show you a few sights in the adventure capital of the world, Queenstown.
KARL: Yeah? Well, I’ve just been saying, I’m definitely not bungee jumping.
BLOKES: We know you’re not bungee jumping, but, hey, you’ll be alright, mate. Just head on out. Come on, we’ll show you around, mate. You’re in this beautiful place, so come on down, bro.
Their names were Sam and Kyle. They stood looking up at me from their graffiti-covered camper van. They seemed friendly enough, but if there’s one thing that doesn’t work with me, it’s people trying to force me to do something. The more they force, the more my brain fights against it. I’ve tried to teach my brain new things but then it just forgets them. Yet, I can remember postcodes of old addresses from years ago. My dad once bet me that by the time I got home I wouldn’t remember the number plate of a car in front of us. I can still remember it now. It was a maroon Ford Orion, registration D189 ONB. Why has my brain chosen to store that bit of information? What use is it? I can’t even remember my National Insurance number. My brain does what it wants.
SAM: I know you’re not that keen on bungee jumping, but we’ll tell you a little bit about it because it’s fantastic – you’ll love it!
KYLE: Safe as houses, mate. Nothing can go wrong.
SAM: Nothing can go wrong . . . most of the time.
KYLE: It’s an absolute rush, total adrenaline rush – you’ll love it.
KARL: I don’t like it. I don’t need it. Honestly, I’m not messing. I don’t need adrenaline rushes.
SAM: Why is that?
KARL: Because I have enough stress in me life.
KYLE: This will ease all the stress out.
SAM: And that is the whole point. To take that shit out of your life.
KARL: No, it won’t ease it, it’ll make it worse.
SAM: It won’t.
KARL: It will! You know nothing about me. You’ve just turned up here telling me what I like. You don’t know. I don’t like that kind of danger.
I came in from the balcony. Luke told me that Sam, the taller of the two, was a doctor, which surprised me, but then I suppose doctors and surgeons do have to have a bit of a mad streak in them to do the jobs they do. Normal people wouldn’t be able to remove lungs from someone’s chest and remain calm.
Luke the director asked me to go along for the ride with Sam and Kyle and witness them do a jump. As we drove we talked about my concerns. They tried to sell it to me by saying that it would all be over in eight seconds, but that isn’t a good enough reason to do it. Eight seconds of joy isn’t worth having. It’s the same reason I don’t understand why people eat oysters. They’re only in the mouth for a second. Sam said I could discover who I really am by doing a bungee. I hope by now, aged 38, I know who I am. If I’m actually someone else what a waste all these years have been.
SAM: There is a point of madness to it, and that’s it, just embrace the madness, and admit there’s something wrong with me here.
KYLE: Embrace the idiot inside.
SAM: Yeah.
KYLE: Let the idiot out.
KARL: Maybe that’s it though, maybe my idiot is always out – it doesn’t need to do bungee.
KYLE: What you thinking, man?
KARL: Okay, I’m happy to stand on the edge ’cos I want to give myself the chance to do it if my brain wants to.
I agreed to go out onto the ledge to see if my brain got the urge to leap, but first I had to be weighed so that they knew the right sort of bungee cord to use, and I had to sign a waiver form. We made our way over to the bungee platform in a type of cable car that was suspended 134 metres above the Nevis river. The minute we stepped off the cable car, back it went to pick up more people – the idea being that by the time it gets back to the platform I would have jumped off and be ready for my return. Loud rock music was playing out of speakers, which I presume was to get you pumped up ready for the jump. I stood in the middle of the platform like a trapped fly in a spider’s web.
I was introduced to Phil, a pony-tailed instructor, who was in charge of safety. He had me sat on a chair in no time, strapped my ankles together and hooked me on to the massive bungee cord. At this point I still didn’t know if I wanted to do it or not. I’d stopped saying ‘definitely not’ and was willing to see what happened.
Phil explained the process. ‘So, we’re gonna put you in a set of ankle cuffs, go out to the edge, and you’ve just got to
