Traveling the World

After we stop at street level, we begin to climb 30 feet, 60 feet in the air. It is a clear night and we can see the surrounding areas of the city with great detail. We are asked to stop and take pictures (which they will then try to sell to us later). 200 or so odd workers worked night and day for 5 years to get this bridge open for public use. When they weren’t working, they were at the local pub at the base of the bridge.

On the Bridge

We reach the bridge’s highest part, which is 80m or 240ft from the ground. Looking down is not a pretty sight, but screaming at the passersby proves fun. From here we walk down to the middle of the bridge and across. As we do so, our guide tells us that in 5 years of construction, only 4 deaths occurred. One man fell into the water and drowned, another fell onto the land, a third was hit by a tram on his way home from work and is counted as an on the job death, and I forgot what happened to the last person.

As we begin our ascent back to the top so we can return home, I feel nostalgic. I am reminded of home (minus the river cutting through the city and the bridge on top) and my family, and how much I miss them. I am grateful for the chance to experience Australia, a country so far away from Florida. With a renewed sense of pride and happiness, I climb on. The guide mentions that the bridge committee originally planned to knock down an entire street and move it over so the bridge could be built, however at the end of the bridge was a pub that the locals loved. So much in fact that they convinced the architect to instead move the bridge over so the pub could remain intact. In the end, the pub renamed itself after the bridge.

Certificate

If you wish to do this, you can contact the Story Bridge Adventure Climb website. You pay $89 either by credit card or cash upon arrival. They are located in Brisbane city at 170 Main St. in the Kangaroo Point area.

As I arrive, I see a shirtless man screaming F*** at the top of his lungs, and I know I’m in the right place. Next up is a girl who screams and tries not to flash everyone. I then go in to the office and happily pull $99 out of my pocket. I am weighed to make sure the cable is of the appropriate strength, to find either I’ve been a pig or the scale is off. The guy marks me off at 65kg, the heaviest I’ve ever been. The last person in front of me is a Viet girl raised in Germany and living in HK. She is really nervous and doesn’t want to jump. When she does, she covers her mouth. As she comes wooshing down through the air, I mentally prepare myself by taking off my shirt and shoes.

It begins to rain as the box descends towards me. My heart beats faster. The rain turns into a storm as I feel the rain beating down on me. I climb into the box and it slowly ascends 12 stories into the sky. The man talks to me to help me deal with my nerves, and he tells me what to do. We arrive and the button turns green. He opens the door to hell and asks me quite politely if I would step to the edge. I comply and do the one thing you are told never to do: look straight down. I look back up and tell him I can’t do it. He says, “yes you can, dammit!” I tell him he’ll have to push me.

Falling. Weightlessness. Disorientation. I scream not in fear, but in shock. My body is plummeting towards the ground at a speed faster than I’ve ever experienced. Nothingness. Excitement. The line reaches it’s maximum length, and my body snaps back upward towards the heavens. Wet. Exhilarated. Pumped. The rain continues to soak me as the man on the ground tries to grab my arms and pull me down to the ground. I’m released from the shackles around my ankles and am left feeling only that I can’t wait to do it again.

(PS – I have no pictures or video of this because of the rain, and their machine that records DVDs of the event was broken).

I feel nervous as I enter the lane marked “Foreigners,” because this is the first time I’ve ever gone to gaol. I approach the guard and he badgers me with questions. “Where are you coming from? Why are you coming here? Why were you there and not China if you claim to be living there? What do you do there? Do you like it there?” I felt like I was going to be sick. I couldn’t tolerate those kinds of questions like I was back in China, because I definitely wasn’t there anymore. I answer the questions with confidence and he half-asses a smile as he collects my things and shows me in.

“Welcome to Australia, mate.” I’m moved to a large cell with all the other prisoners and made to wait. It seemed like forever when I was finally allowed to collect my new items from the conveyor belt. I cringed at the thought of how slow life is here. Something that would get done within minutes now seems to be done at a snails pace. After picking up my allotted items, I moved to another line and waited some more.

I quickly discover that gaol here is strict. If you are caught bringing in foreign items (like dried fish or plants) they can seize the item and throw a fine at you and extra time in gaol! Because of this, I removed my unopened chocolate bar and asked the quarantine checker if it was okay. He said to me, “It’s my not favourite brand mate, but it’s okay to bring in.”

Being a smart bloke, I formulated an escape plan while on the transport aircraft. About the time they led me through to the cell I was meant to spend the next month in, the other prisoners began a riot. Around 9:30am, I escaped from the clutches of the Australian government, slip past the guards at the entrance, and jumped into the moving truck. The driver asked where I was headed, and I said “Gold Coast, my good mate.” I didn’t know if I would make it, but I had hope. In Gold Coast I’d find safe passage and a warm meal. It’s best to move as fast as possible, so I’ll move on with haste to a safe house in Deception Bay. I only hope this message reaches you. Wish me luck.