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SINGAPORE – Even now, over a week later, my palms still get wet every time I think of staggering in a 17-story high bungee tower, my toes poking over the edge of the platform, afraid to dive in a wide expanse of nowhere.
Bungee jumping has always been on my bucket list, one of those “one day I’ll do it” things that I never rated due to cost, fear, or both.
This year, locked in Singapore by the pandemic and without the excitement of going beyond my comfort zone, there seems to be no better time to try.
I am not alone in this line of thinking. Luke Johnson, general manager of AJ Hackett Sentosa, says the international bungee operator has seen a change in consumer mindset since the Covid-19 pandemic.
“People are living in the moment, because they don’t know what is around the corner. They don’t mind spending a little more to have an experience, tick off the bucket list, get outdoors and live life,” he says. .
The deep discounts have helped draw in crowds since the Sentosa site reopened in July.
A bungee jump now costs $ 69, compared to $ 159 before the pandemic. The company refuses to reveal the number of visitors, but says it performs “high” on the weekends.
On the weekday afternoon when he visited The Sunday Times, at least 10 brave souls have been released.
If a heartbreaking, soul-cleansing, screaming-down activity sounds too intense, the airlift is entertainment enough, such as a pre-bungee-jump sneak peek, where you can step into a glass cube or a vertigo-inducing partner. . through see-through floor panels to see the jumpers hanging from the ankles below.
This is where the dread begins.
I am not an adrenaline junkie and have a poor track record when it comes to jumping out of things. During swimming lessons as a child, I spent weeks gathering the courage to jump into the pool, cautiously pushing one foot over the edge, while my classmates happily jumped into the water.
And during a physical education class in elementary school, I was one of the slowest to perform a confidence drop in the arms of my peers.
So in the week leading up to my jump, I engage in all kinds of mental tricks to get me psyched.
All I have to do is take a leap forward, I tell myself. The hardest part will be over in a split second.
One afternoon alone at home, aware of how ridiculous I look, I imagine my ankles tied and I practice jumping off a stool. My attempt at grace is going nowhere.
But knowing the correct way is important. Diving head first allows for a smooth transition to the inverted position, and keeping my chin bent and arms outstretched will prevent me from filling up with water as I dive into the 3.5m pool below.
Jumpers can decide if they want to touch the water and the crew will adjust the bungee cord accordingly, although a decisive jump offers a much better chance of ending with a splash.
Jumping master Izuwan Hajis explains these tips to me as his colleague ties me around the ankles, making a knot that tightens when pressure is applied. He lets me choose a song and I choose Rust To Gold from the American rock band Council. Countless times, the lighthearted track on my workout playlist has led me to one more rep. Today, I hope it helps me make the leap.
I reluctantly crawl to the edge and Mr. Izuwan begins a countdown, but when he reaches one, my legs remain frozen.
I stumble to the side and ask for some time to regroup.
The 47m tower, small in the world of bungee jumping and only a fifth the height of the Macau Tower jump run by the same company, is too daunting when it becomes apparent that there is no barrier between me and the curving shoreline from Siloso beach.
I almost turned and ran, and I wouldn’t be the only one. About 1 percent of people walk away from the edge, Johnson says.
Unlike tandem skydiving or roller coaster riding, the excitement and terror come from being in full control of your experience.
“Fear is part of the process. Once you get over the hurdle, it’s an incredible feeling,” adds Johnson, who has more than 300 jumps under his belt.
After a few minutes of self-talk, I prepare for a second try, this time counting out loud with the crew.
Once again, it is a false start. My treacherous legs refuse to move. The track repeats once more. I’ve definitely been here more than five minutes, the average length it takes for most to jump. I’m starting to feel like I’ll never get out of this tower.
A crowd of bathers offers unexpected moral support.
“There are people downstairs cheering you on,” says Mr. Izuwan, still holding my hand encouragingly. Maybe this is the boost I need. Finally, on my third try, I dive.
The world is a confusion of teal, green, and sand. I hear people yelling and I try to detect them, but everything is backwards.
Then hit the recoil. I launch myself up and suddenly find myself falling once more, almost as exciting as the first time.
In fact, my fear has faded. The hard part is over and now I can finally enjoy the feeling of the heart in my mouth, more satisfying because I have earned it. The free fall lasts only about two or three seconds, but it feels like a glorious eternity.
Turns out I didn’t push myself enough during my jump and lost water by a few inches.
Never mind. The afternoon still ends at the top.
I play Rust To Gold again on the way home and think about how we relate the songs to the milestones and the seasons.
Now, irreversibly, it has become my hymn to embrace new experiences and let go of fear.
Reach speeds of up to 120 km / h on a giant swing
Here’s the thing about thrill rides – they never seem so scary until you’re actually on them.
As I wait for our turn for AJ Hackett Sentosa’s giant swing, I see the riders giggling as they are lifted off the ground about 15 stories high, then I hear their screams as they plunge forward in a massive arc.
But compared to bungee jumping, which I’m petrified of, the swing looks fun and non-threatening, like a bigger version of the Viking boat ride at amusement parks that hits 120km / h.
AJ Hackett Sentosa General Manager Luke Johnson likens it to the main course of a meal, a beginner’s choice before trying bungee.
Some entree is. Halfway up the climb, I start to think that these are all poor comparisons.
Hanging from a body harness as the ground recedes and the treetops come into view, one feels extremely small and vulnerable. Cyclists and beach goers seem to be part of a diorama.
To make matters worse, the fate of my partner and I, tied side by side, is in my hands. The swing begins only when I pull on a release rope that sends us down. If you can’t muster up the courage, we’ll be left hanging forever.
If you’ve ever staggered on top of a roller coaster, you know that the fall is inevitable, the agony is quickly over.
Returning control of the experience is part of the appeal of AJ Hackett Sentosa, the difference between taking a walk and doing an activity. It all sounds very enriching, but only for those with nerves of steel. I wonder if anyone has needed to be rescued at the top.
Today, we rid ourselves of that ignominy. After a brief hesitation, I pull hard and we’re off. This is more than a stomach-dropping plunge: I feel all of my weight sink and instinctively I reach out to stop the fall.
But there’s no fall, just a sharp jerk as we dart forward, high above Siloso Beach, screeching until the swing slows down.
If you’re going to do the next bungee jump, the giant swing will whet your appetite.
Otherwise it’s an adrenaline rush that you can savor for the rest of the afternoon. Definitely a shared memory that you can retrieve to laugh over and over again.
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