Unsurprisingly, everyone's talking about Felix Baumgartner and That Jump today. Like millions of people all over the world, we were glued to the screen from four o'clock yesterday afternoon. All sorts of records were broken and it was a privilege to watch the entire thing live. (If you missed it, you can watch it here.)
However, it made me feel extremely queasy. I mean - really. How does a man travel 24 miles up from earth in a small capsule attached to a balloon made out of material that looks no thicker than a carrier bag, emerge onto an oh-so-tiny step (that was the second worst part) and jump (that was my worst nightmare coming true)?
Writers are supposed to have good imaginations but mine refuses to even contemplate it. Every time it tries, my stomach does an assortment of backward flips.
So what did Mr. Baumgartner achieve (apart from ruining my dinner)? He jumped from 24.2 miles. He was in freefall for 36,529 metres/4 minutes 20 seconds. He broke the sound barrier by travelling at 833.9 miles per hour!
There was a time in the capsule when he thought he might have to abort the mission because his visor was fogging. Apparently, there's a rule that says if you can't see, you don't jump. Um, yes, that makes sense. Then, on jumping, he went into a violent spin. He could have utilised a parachute at that time to control it, but he knew he wouldn't be breaking any records if he did that. Hmm.
Here's the image (courtesy of Red Bull) that will haunt me for the rest of my days:
The guy's a hero, obviously. One very brave but totally insane kind of hero.
Congratulations, Felix! (And thanks in advance for the nightmares I shall undoubtedly have.)