Normally when I look down towards my feet, I see merely the apex of a burgeoning gut and underneath that, some concrete with gum stuck on it. This time, there were trees, trees I'm literally telling you; pine trees, belonging in high-up places - not under my shoes. The trees were already high up, and I was above them. And mountains were under there too. And worst of all...a flipping cloud was clinging to my ankle. I don't belong among clouds, I don't believe they're our business at all until they rain on us.

But there I was, naked of plane, just me in a sling, flying through the air. Whoosh, she went, as I flew past her, holding a selfie stick and pulling a grin meddled with unflatteringly by g-force. As am I, contorted; squidged by the force - my superior weight forcing speeds unheard of, and the sides of my cheeks almost wrapping around the back of my head (where the eyelids also desired to be).

It's the weirdest thing ever, flying. Here we were, in the state of Chihuahua, 450 meters in the air, suspended by what essentially was a canvas nappy. 3 minutes of this. Of a surreal jaunt from the eyeballs of a hawk, soaring over Mexico's Copper Canyon - it's Grand Canyon - in what felt like a virtual reality exercise. You're there, but you're not there. You don't belong, and yet here you are, striking up 84kph in someone else's sky.

And you still don't believe it's going to happen even when the gate at the top slides across, leaving a leg-dangling feeling of agonising limbo. Like that feeling waiting outside the headmaster's office. Then once away, the sound of the wind adds to the zipline's own torturous whine, making for a cacophony of sensually overloaded sky nonsense. This heightened state - of what the hell - draws to a close with a swift descent into what you think is going to be the arms of your saviour. But no - the men stand to one side and let you fly past them. It feels like treachery at first, but turns out to be a breaking system that pops your eyes back in forces an aggressive swallow. And then out of the sling, to the ground. Sweet, sweet ground. Lovely floor. Rocks made for men to be men upon.


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