Did you miss Part One?
Chapter One Continued…
The crew was urging us toward the edge of the bridge. We didn’t
have time to dillydally, as the show had been granted special access for
the shoot. Bungee jumping was not ordinarily allowed off the Golden
Gate Bridge due to boat traffic, but the producers had been able to
close down the shipping lanes for one hour. Everything is for sale in
San Francisco.
Car traffic, on the other hand, was still open on the bridge. Every‐
thing may be for sale, but even Hollywood has a budget. It was
nerve-wracking and noisy to have the cars whizzing by.
“If you’re nervous, maybe someone else can go first,” Ty offered.
Cheryl said, “Someone needs to go, for God’s sake. We need to get
the show on the road. Aaron, want to go?”
Aaron looked surprised and Ty seemed relieved.
“Uh, yeah, certainly. Love to,” Aaron said, although he looked
unsure.
Cheryl turned to me and shouted, “You, get over here and watch
him jump. We need the shot.”
I don’t know what I’d imagined when I thought about possibly
finding love on this show, but it certainly hadn’t included this
six-foot-tall blond woman yelling at me constantly. In fact, she’d never
even entered my mind and now she seemed never to leave.
Aaron took his place near the edge of the bridge and I stood next
to him. The crew maneuvered around us, although one camera
remained trained on my face, my every expression being recorded for
posterity.
I hoped I didn’t look nauseous. I certainly felt it.
Despite the tech people assuring me it was safe, jumping off the
bridge was the last thing I wanted to do.
Down below I could see the Coast Guard boat hovering, one of the
conditions the City of San Francisco had put on our use of the bridge.
Cheryl hadn’t cared about the condition. In fact, she’d used it in
negotiations for the show, requesting two cameramen be allowed to
board and film our jumps.
“Are you ready, Aaron?” I asked, remembering to smile for the
camera, but fearing it came off more as a grimace.
Aaron returned my smile, only his seemed genuine. “Oh, yeah. I’ve
been jumping before. It’s really a hoot. Feels like you’re flying.” He
grabbed my hand and said, “Georgia, will you jump with me?”
Before I could reply, he turned to the tech. “Is her line ready?”
I heard the tech say, “She’s—”
The din of traffic seemed to grow, a car honking at precisely that
moment.
Then someone touched the small of my back and Cheryl yelled,
“Action!”
Aaron let out a war cry and leapt, still squeezing my hand and
pulling me forward. Someone pushed sharply on my back. I was off
balance, trying to stay on the bridge.
Aaron didn’t release me and his momentum propelled me forward.
I slipped off the railing, falling with him, our hands finally disen‐
tangling.
The wind howled furiously at me. I howled back. My face tight,
completely stretched with the force of gravity, my own saliva
streaming across my checks as I screamed. Aaron was screaming, too,
only his yells were ones of sheer delight.
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His arms were flung out from his sides and he held them horizon‐
tally, imitating a plane.
We were soaring through the air like birds—only birds on a sharp
descent, toward water that looked like a sheet of solid glass.
Adrenaline surged through my system, everything registering in
slow motion: Aaron’s expression of pure joy, the sunlight reflecting
off the water and blinding me, the sound of the boat nearby.
The Coast Guard.
We were speeding, rushing closer and closer to the water. My
breath caught in my throat, gagging me. I fought the impulse to retch.
How close to the water were we supposed to get?
When would the cord tighten?
What had the tech said?
All my mind could process was the water seemingly racing
toward me.
And then, suddenly, my cord pulled taut and my descent stopped. I
bounced up, the water receding rapidly. The negative g-force playing
havoc with my stomach.
Out of nowhere a horrific crashing, splashing, screeching sound
pierced my ears.
Water shot upward.
I pressed both hands over my mouth and tried to keep the blood‐
curdling scream inside, but failed.
Aaron had hit the water.
His bungee cord finally tightened and snapped to position, but he
was already underwater.
I continued flying upward, the distance between Aaron and me an
eternity.
It felt as if I would crash right through the bottom of the bridge.
And then my descent began again, water rushing toward me.
Dear God, would I crash into the water, too?
I was paralyzed with fear as the cord tightened and then the water
raced away. Then I was falling again, zooming toward the water, now
my nemesis beckoning me, luring and tempting me to give up the
fight.
The cord tightened one last time and I came to an abrupt stop,
suspended above the bay—so close I could feel the salt spray on my
skin.
I filled my lungs with air and screamed. I kicked and thrashed
about, trying to break the harness that had just saved my life. Aaron
was so close to me, I needed to grab him and pull him out of the
water. I was vaguely aware of the Coast Guard boat nearby, the sound
of the engine revving, the fumes of the diesel gagging me.
I heard the crackle of the Coast Guard’s radio and then Cheryl’s
voice frantically shouting, “Hoist him up! Holy Christ! Hoist him up!”
I raised my head and was surprised to see the Coast Guard boat so
close. Without words the entire crew had sprung into action. But one
camera was still trained on me. The other camera zoomed in on
Aaron.
I felt a jolt and realized I was being raised back toward the bridge.
“No, no, stop! Let me go—I can reach him!” I yelled.
Then the hoist on Aaron’s harness began to crank and he was
lifted out of the water.
His dripping, lifeless form hung like a rag doll from the bungee.
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