Напишите 5 вопросов разных типов к тексту: Bungee-jumping is not new. Millions of people have jumped from high places
with elastic tied to their ankles but until recently not me. There are plenty of places to try a jump, some no great distance from my home. Unlike my friends, however, I was looking for a better view than that from a crane in a London suburb, so I chose one of the world's classic bungee locations; I jumped from the bridge which crosses the Victoria Falls in central Africa. And I learned something from the experience: I discovered that I am scared of heights. At the Falls one of the world's top bungee operators arranges for a steady stream of tourists to throw themselves off the bridge. Their queue, you might imagine, would be а good place to build up your confidence, as you watch at the brave people ahead of you successfully complete the challenge. In practice, it gives you time to lose your nerve. Not least because those in front, as far as you can see, jump off the bridge and are never seen again. I discovered later that they are pulled back up and undipped on the lower part of the bridge, out of sight of those waiting to jump. The jumper in front of me, a young girl, was obviously terrified. Two employees helped her towards the jump point but while her feet were edging forward, the rest of her body was saying 'no way'. In the end, shaking like a leaf, she chickened out and sat down to get her legs untied. Although her refusal had been recorded on video camera, she didn't appear ashamed — more relieved as far as I could see. My sympathy for her increased as my turn got closer. All loose possessions were removed from my pockets, and a harness was tightened around my body. «This is just for your security», I was told but I didn't feel greatly reassured. Then it was my turn to sit down. My ankles were tied together and the length of elastic was attached. The waiting, at least, was over, and for that I was grateful. Helpers on either side led me to the edge. Looking down, I suddenly felt а real fear. The waters of the River Zambezi were far below, one hundred meters below according to the brochure. Although I never once let go of the grab rails, my helpers encouraged me to gradually move my feet forward until I reached the edge of the metal step that stood between me and the drop. At this point, if I'd not had the courage, I might have backed out. There were only 30 people watching, none of whom I was likely to see again. I could live with the disappointment — and I knew the employees weren't allowed to push me. But my rational mind talked me round. Thousands of people had done this jump and survived to tell the tale. I took a deep breath, spread out my arms and toppled forward. I found myself dropping face forward into space. Then there was a tug on my legs, slowing me gently as I neared the river's surface. And then I was being pulled back up again — and then dropping again, and so it continued. Strangely, the fear hadn't gone when a man on a rope pulled me back towards the bridge, and what's more, it stayed with me. Not a moment too soon, I was pulled up onto the safety of solid ground. Luckily, I landed on the Zambian side of the river, where I was staying in a hotel. I was glad that I didn't have to walk across the bridge. Even though it was wide, with a high railing, I just didn't want to go anywhere near that one hundred metres drop ever again.