QUEENSTOWN, New Zeal-and — I stepped to the edge of the launch platform and poked my head over the side. I could see the tops of trees around an opening a couple of hundred feet below, where the rock face of the mountainside sloped almost straight down. The view sent a slight shiver down my spine and set off a flutter at the bottom of my stomach.

"You don't need to see where you're going," the guy tending the bungee site called "The Ledge" advised calmly in his New Zealand accent. "Are you ready?"

I've heard that some first-timers stall at this point and think things over, but this was no time for thinking.

Well, I could stall a little.

I grabbed a section of the bungee line and inspected it, as if that would make a difference. Hundreds of little rubber bands, laced smartly together. The bungee guy picked up on my last-minute curiosity. "It's well-used," he said pleasantly.

Thanks.

He suggested I stand behind a red line painted across the platform, a few feet back from the edge, to give a little oomph to my launch, and count down "five, four, three, two, one."

There's a difference between fear and terror.

Terror is an adrenaline rush when your feet leave the platform and you begin free-fall.

Fear is something else. For me, it was the fear I felt of getting on the plane headed back home if I didn't jump and hearing that little voice saying "coulda, shoulda, woulda."

I'll take terror, thank you.

You can wear anything you want. Step on the scales so they can write your weight on your hand and answer some questions about your health. Sign a release, then step to the launch pad to be rigged up.

The rest? Well, it's easy as flying.