When I promised my fiance' we'd go skydiving for his birthday, I didn't fully comprehend the leap of faith I'd be taking. Normally, I love the open freedom of a birds-eye view, but the thought of putting my life into the hands of a trained instructor and leaping from a perfectly good airplane made me dizzy...such an utter loss of control! Those who know me well are aware that I'm pretty brave-I'm not one to shy away from new adventures. However, this time was different. As the fateful skydiving day approached, l began to feel ill at ease. This was a displeasing emotion for me because, like many, I dislike fear; fear is so limiting. Fear keeps people tightly wrapped in their comfort zones, robbing them of exhilarating, rewarding experiences. My principal worry was, "What if I break my legs on the landing?" I'd have to hobble down the aisle on my wedding day, (or be carried or wheeled) which I'd never imagined and did not want.
The Saturday morning of June the 6th arrived quite quickly. Outside my bedroom window, birds, abundant with summertime energy, chirped a lively conversation. What a juxtaposition for how I really felt! 'This could be my last day alive,' I thought morbidly. Moments later, I greeted Pepper at the doorway, and with a false sense of confidence, I said, "Ok, let's go jump out of a plane!"
I'll skip the details of signing the lengthy waiver (you could potentially experience injury OR DEATH while skydiving) and the excruciating waiting game, where I witnessed professionals spiraling downwards at high speeds, guiding their vibrantly colored parachutes in swooping, fearless arcs. I watched their landings with hawk-like intensity. No broken bones occurred, so I began to think that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a stupid thing to do after all.
Pepper and I met our instructors, who initially teased us, asking "why are ya'll doing this!? Are you crazy?" I looked at them blankly, then forced a polite smile. I mean, didn't they do this for a living? THEY are the crazy ones, right? Then, we were told to clad ourselves in maroon-colored jumpsuits. So fashionable! Sorry we don't have a pic of this...I was nervous and didn't know where to put my things, so I left my phone in the trunk of our car. We met our instructors, who told us that they'd latch their harnesses to us and would be doing all the hard work, which included both flinging us (individually) out of the moving plane, deploying our parachute and steering it too.
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| Wile E. Coyote got it right. This is realistic. |
Finally, it was time. As we boarded the small plane, I felt the searing heat of its engine. My heart quickened, marveling at the fact that this plane had been dumping jumpers all morning. Pepper and I would be tandem skydiving, which meant two people (the beginner and the instructor) jump together, attached by trusty harnesses. Three other guys on our flight were pros, and as the plane crept to 11,00 feet, they slid the Plexiglas door up to admire an unblemished view. This action unleashed an icy gust of cold air into the plane's cabin. 'COLD?? I didn't realize the air would be cold up here. I'd forgotten that. Yikes.' One by one, I watched these men climb through the opening and disappear into an ocean of blue sky and cotton-like clouds. I wanted to say, "Wait, don't go! Don't do it!" but alas, they were gone. In fact, they'd been joyous about the whole occasion-laughing, in fact. Like it was a bachelor party. Not me. I felt queasy.
Suddenly, I was perched in the doorway of the plane, the thunderous roar of the hurling wind overpowering all other senses. My instructor coached me on how to fall, how to hold my arms, so I felt a slight sense of security. However, the rush of cold air seemed a hostile enemy. My heart accelerates as I write this, because the memory is so fresh. We were about 15,000 feet above the Georgia earth. One...two...three! Suddenly, I was mid-air. We must have done a back (or was it front?) flip out of the plane, because I wasn't initially falling face-forward. A second later, we were hurling at what felt like a slow-motion rate toward the rural countryside below. If you want to know what this feels like, imagine being in a log cabin during a winter storm and flinging the front door wide open. The blast of cold air isn't prejudice about who it hits-it greets everyone with surprising, extreme force.
Down, down, down, we went. The force of cold air kind of hurt...it was uncomfortable, yet exciting, like being on a roller coaster. My goggles allowed me to watch the fall, and without them, I think I would've lost my eyes. Seconds passed. As we rushed downward, I caught sight of a cloud below. 'We're about to go through that cloud' I thought. What will happen when...??' Suddenly, everything was white. I was surrounded by angelic whiteness, unable to see the distant earth. Just then, our pace changed. The parachute was deployed! We materialized out of the cloud-coverage, and it was then that I was able to enjoy the spectacular view. I gasped for breath, relieved that the free-fall was over, yet happy I'd survived without screaming. Aware that I was covered in cold sweat, I sheepishly chatted with the instructor, and he pointed out Stone Mountain, which appeared as a distant knot in the earthen quilt, and the Atlanta skyline, which was just visible through the thick summer atmosphere. I craned my neck around, searching for Pepper, and felt giddy when I saw his parachute just a few yards away. I waved, then watched as they glided further downward toward the airstrip.
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| Survivors. |
We glided to and fro, admiring the 360 degree view. Soon, it was time to get back to the ground where humans belong. I didn't botch the landing! I'd informed my instructor (more than once) how worried I was about the potential loss of legs, and he told me he'd be hitting the ground first. When we slid onto the ground, the first thing I wanted to do was run into Pepper's arms. I beamed and said, "Happy birthday! We made it!" Our skydiving adventure was a success. What a RUSH!
