Just for Fun: Vegas Edition
This platform leads nowhere - only to the ambience of the abyss, the sounds of city, desert, and night. It peers down from its placement near the top of the Stratosphere Tower: hotel, casino, and tallest structure in Las Vegas. A private party of decadent strangers waits inside the lounge for me to jump, as they’ve been watching a modest but steady number of paying, ballsy volunteers do all night long. I wait for the friendly faculty to attach a thick cable to the harness on my back. The Strip waits below.
I Ferris Buellered my boyfriend into this. He’s my best friend, and a very good sport with some of my suggestions, but I knew this particular idea might be a bit much for most. I somehow persuaded him to join my quest for the marvelous sensation of free fall, to hurl ourselves from a precipice some 800 feet above the neon lights. The drop is controlled and eventually slowed by the zip-line mechanisms that ease momentum, allowing feet to meet ground again comfortably, without breaking any legs. The problem, unfortunately, is that pictures and video can’t quite capture the exact expanse of nothing under your feet, to prepare you for the actual sensation of standing on the edge and looking down. The plan had been for my reluctant companion to go first; anxiety took hold of him instead, and he backed out entirely. (I don’t blame him, found it admirable that he even tried and learned, in the process, that he does in fact have a fear of falling.) While he received moral support back in the lounge, thanks to an amiable older couple from Montréal, I stood on the platform and stared out into the Vegas lights and questioned why I’m fine doing the things that I do.
With his turn forfeited, I jumped twice. The first time, I sort of walked off into space, just let myself fall, unsure of what to expect. The second time, I made more of an effort to push off the platform (as one does off a wall, when swimming laps), and executed an arguably graceful leap wherein I seemed to gain a little more distance between myself and the tower.
The sensation is one of weightless floating, stomach-in-your-throat, a clean and sudden drop for those first few seconds - until the cables guiding you begin to resist, slowing the descent appreciably. It works, given that pure free fall would end too soon (in every interpretation of the phrase). There’s time to enjoy the horizon rising up to meet you, the unreal roll and turn of the earth in relation to your unusual vantage point, the wind ripping through your hair. All of it will, of course, be over quickly - but it’s a thrill worth having if you’re a fan of heights (and have extra cash you’d prefer to throw at something novel, other than the tables or slot machines).
If you’ve been jumping out of planes or have a penchant for extreme downhill skiing, something like this might be too entry-level for your taste. I’d otherwise recommend it to anyone who enjoys the Strip for its oddities and adult amusement park appeal, as I had quite a bit of fun. Plus, now I have two “I jumped and didn’t die!” souvenir certificates, one for each of my ladyballs.