Dear Daily Princetonian:

VICTORIA FALLS, ZAMBIA — I can't claim that the idea of flinging myself from the world's second highest bungee jump at Victoria Falls on the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe was my own.

Rather, the suggestion came from an unlikely source: my father, an acrophobic.

After I spent a summer in Botswana working with the BOTUSA Project, my parents and younger sister Katie, a Princeton freshman, decided to travel to Africa for a week-and-a-half-long visit. We organized the trip by email — Dad highlighted the places they would like to see, and I worked out the ground arrangements.

I remember scanning the list of destinations in between office tasks: Capetown, Chobe National Park, the Okavango Delta. Then there it was: bungee jumping at Victoria Falls. I chuckled to myself, knowing he was joking. But the idea stuck with me — after all, what better place to go bungee jumping for the first time than in Africa?

My sister wasn't quite as fond of the idea. "I'm training for a marathon, and you're going to injure me," she whined. But I knew that if I was persistent, she would eventually give in and join me. I was right.

The morning of our day trip to Victoria Falls was beautiful: the African sun shone through the mist of the Falls, creating rainbows. The Falls impressed me with its ability to emit an image of both peace and power. The surging waters of Devil's Cataract plummeted into the Falls' deep canyons forcefully, while the more dainty Rainbow Falls pitter-pattered onto the rocks below. From a distance, we saw the bungee bridge and a long cord hanging from it.

"What? That doesn't look very safe!" Katie exclaimed.

"Oh Katie, you don't need to do it. Your sister is just crazy," my mother assured her.

For me, bungee jumping wasn't crazy — it was a calculated risk. Here was the opportunity to test my sense of adventure and the very limits of life, flying through the air with one connection to reality: a bungee cord. Sure, it sounds dangerous, but the bungee company had a 100 percent safety record, which was enough to convince me.

Katie and I decided to jump tandem, or two at once, as she claimed she would "back out of it" if we didn't go together. As we made our way over the bungee bridge, I smiled and laughed, trying to emit confidence while Katie began to get nervous. She had told friends from home she was jumping and felt she would look like a coward if she backed out now.

My parents watched from the side as Katie and I were individually harnessed, then attached at the legs. My mom started to pray — she was convinced she was "going to lose two daughters at one time" — while my father chatted with the Zambian vendors who spent their days selling copper bracelets on the bridge. The vendors had watched hundreds of people throw themselves from this bungee jump, yet they continued to be fascinated. There was always a chance that something interesting might happen, that a jumper would dive to his or her doom.

We were given few directions: the bungee man told Katie and me to place one arm around each other's harnesses and thrust the other hand out — chest out, chin up — like an extended swan dive. Then it was time to jump.

Get the best of the ‘Prince’ delivered straight to your inbox. Subscribe now »

"OK, hop over there like a bunny rabbit," he motioned towards the edge of the bridge.

My optimism was quickly fading. 'What if I let go of Katie's harness?"

"Don't let go."

"Umm... I can't do this," Katie stammered.

"Yes you can Katie, look at the horizon." I meanwhile directed my gaze downwards. Maybe this was the wrong decision — the 128 meters to the valley floor was increasingly intimidating. But there was no time for second guesses.

"Five, four, three, two, one... bungee." I pushed off as instructed, in perfect form away from the platform. Katie later said she was pushed "slightly."

My fears instantly dissolved in the free fall, as I suddenly found that I was above the world, flying. It was similar to the thrilling sensation one experiences on a roller coaster, only without anything holding you back. I could feel my grin widen as Katie screamed wildly. This was our moment.

My mind prepared to hit the water, just as it has at many a swim meet while finishing off a platform dive. But the "whoosh" never came. Instead, we bounced back up, still attached by the bungee and then made our second descent towards the valley, Katie still screaming.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it was over. Reality, which had suspended itself for a full five seconds, returned. Katie and I were dangling from a bungee cord above a surging volume of water, and my head was beginning to hurt. Furthermore, they hadn't given us any directions about what to do after we jumped.

Within a few moments, another bungee man lowered himself to us, then attached himself to us and dragged us back up to the bridge.

Our parents gasped sighs of relief as the overly eager vendors prepared for another possible drop of doom. The experience was over — but I can easily say I'll never forget those five seconds of free fall.

It isn't every day that you take a flying leap towards the Zambezi River and survive.