Sky Diving

They strap me into the backpack and I can’t keep the manic smile from stretching across my face. Seriously, this is about as close to suicide a person can get to without actually “going off the edge,” but this is the ultimate edge. As edgy as it gets.

I feel slightly insane, really. I’m not nervous, I never am until I actually climb out of the plane and hang onto the pole. There’s always that moment’s hesitation where I go “Really? Self? It’s dangerous,” but then insanity kicks back in, stuffs a gag in sane-me’s mouth and off I go.

We’re climbing in altitude. I’m jittery with excitement, literally pining for the imminent adrenaline rush. The pilot says we’re almost there, so I stand up and walk over to the door. The assistant, Jack, opens the door and I see unrestricted how high we really are, it’s humbling. Jack smiles at me as he checks my bag, my straps, all seem in order so he points out the door and mouths, “have fun,” I can practically feel my smile pulling across my face and I know I really DO look insane. I figure that’s alright because I’m definitely not entirely sure I’m not.

I step towards the outside and carefully climb out onto the pole on the outside of the plane, I dangle. I think humorously about the movie scenes I’ve seen of people taking a running jump off the side of a plane. Ya right, do you know how fast the plane is going? A person’s momentum will barely take them past the door and they’ll stop short (or seriously slow down) and no doubt hit their head on some part of the plane. No, not even partially realistic. This is much safer. Ha, safer. As if I could seriously be thinking of my own safety as I jump out of a plane over two and a half miles above the ground. As if. My safety comes in the form of an extra parachute, a back-up, in case parachute #1 decides not to work. It won’t decide not to work. It always works.

Oh. The moment of doubt. Letting go is my way of making fun of the sane person screaming at the insane me. Basically sticking my tongue out at sane-me and going “nanny-nanny-boo-boo!” And I’m falling. I LOVE this feeling, this exhilarating free-fall, stomach-fluttering and wonderful. I feel great; there is no fear any more. It stayed on the plane with sane-me. I do a couple flips. I’ve only got about 50 seconds of free fall. But that is more than enough to make me happy. Plus, the more I go, the higher the plane will go up for me and the longer free fall that I have. Bliss. I pull the parachute. It really is beautiful up here, open land in the middle of nowhere and you’re watching it floating down. I especially love doing this at sunset. Gorgeous, like you are apart from it and part of it all at once.

Slowly, I float towards the ground. When my feet are right above it, I get ready to start running so I’m not caught in the parachute as it comes down. Lightly, my feet hit and I start to feel my weight settle back onto my legs as I move them across the earth, taking on the weight of my body slowly while not allowing the parachute to settle on top of me. I slow down to a walk to stop dragging my chute on the ground. As I wait for the jeep to come pick me up, I fold my parachute and stuff it into my backpack. I climb into the jeep as it arrives and settle back to a long ride back to the airport for one more go.