After zipping from treetop to treetop in the rainforest of Costa Rica for an hour and a half, adrenaline pumping, we come upon our “sorpresa,” the Tarzan swing. Rather than zip across, you drop straight down before swinging out in true Tarzan, or in my case Jane, form. Climbing up onto the ledge, one guide holds onto your harness, tells you to bend your knees, and then gives you a nice, encouraging push to your death.
After watching a few go down, it is my turn. Hooked in, the guide tells me, as with the others, to bend my knees, which to me is an indication that he is ready for me to drop. Instinctively and almost to avoid the inevitable push, I step off the platform before I am supposed to go.
“No, no!” He screams, and braces himself against the railing holding me up by the back of my harness as I am helplessly dangling off the platform high above the ground. In shock, I spend a good five seconds suspended in air, arms flailing, legs wild kicking, and me screaming in true monkey fashion before finally being released.
Well, my Costa Rican chicas, I know how much you desperately wanted to see a wild monkey in the Costa Rican rainforests. Looks like you got what you asked for.
After watching a few go down, it is my turn. Hooked in, the guide tells me, as with the others, to bend my knees, which to me is an indication that he is ready for me to drop. Instinctively and almost to avoid the inevitable push, I step off the platform before I am supposed to go.
“No, no!” He screams, and braces himself against the railing holding me up by the back of my harness as I am helplessly dangling off the platform high above the ground. In shock, I spend a good five seconds suspended in air, arms flailing, legs wild kicking, and me screaming in true monkey fashion before finally being released.
Well, my Costa Rican chicas, I know how much you desperately wanted to see a wild monkey in the Costa Rican rainforests. Looks like you got what you asked for.
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