I was standing next to a young American from Denver, waiting my turn to speak to a representative from a Queenstown tour company.

We had reached New Zealand’s adventure capital and wanted to review our options for getting an adrenaline rush. Jet boats. Quad bikes. Something called the “Canyon Swing.”

The man from Denver, however, knew exactly what he wanted.  He was looking for Queenstown’s least expensive bungy.  He’d been to three different companies already and was not satisfied with the prices he had been quoted.

“They want too much.  I know there’s a cheaper bungy in this town,” he told me.

When it was his turn to talk to an agent, I overheard parts of the conversation including his last words: “It’s a rip-off.”  He walked out, still searching for the elusive low-cost bungy.

Then it was my turn. I made my inquiries, picked up a few brochures, and left to go back to the hotel to talk through our options with Dani and the kids.

Walking back along the unimaginably beautiful Queenstown harbor, my thoughts turned to John Glenn.

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