So You Wanna Jump from a Plane
My wife, Jamie, was in a hurry by the time I got off the phone with Dad because she needed to go online to get info for the drive to Skydive Chicago and I had the phone tied up. We were on our way by 11 am and our close friends, Sandy and Dave, followed us.
I was pretty calm except when I tried to engage my brain about what was going to happen. I recognized this as a means of trying to force the fear out of the way later by attempting to go through it now. It is a bizzare illusion that if I can be scared now, I won't have to go through the feelings when I am more vulnerable.
Once we were finally there, I had a small stack of waivers to sign and initial which CLEARLY stated that I could not win if I tried to sue and would end up paying for everyone's lawyers if I was dumb enough to take them to court anyway. It also made it very understandable that I might die. In fact, the wording almost suggested that I was going to die. "Sign here and here, sir."
Our five year old caused some embarrassment by crushing candy in the lobby on the floor and a staff member politely told Jamie that our children needed to be with an adult the entire time.
A very long wait stretched on and on until I was taken downstairs to the training room with three other first-timers for a very brief overview on Skydiving 101. I got my flight number (#327) and headed outside to sit on the lawn and watch the people drift down. I violated my idea of going up on an empty stomach as it was nearly 4pm and I had eaten sparsely in the morning. The KFC turned out to not be a problem.
Over tinny speakers, I barely heard my number called. Wade introduced himself as my flight instructor with a genuine Australian accent. My first impression of Wade was tall, very friendly, and rugged. He helped me suit up in a navy blue jump suit and got the harness on tighter than I thought comfortably possible. I met Steve, the vid/photographer. He was common among the surfer dude genre of people. I forgot to mention the barefoot, pink-haired-in-pig-tails woman in the office that seemed to be in charge. We boarded the prop plane and faced backward on the floor for the takeoff; each person straddling the one in front.
I checked my altimeter a number of times for something to do and avoided looking out the window in an effort to avoid visual cues that would screw with my sense of balance and well being. I glanced down as I approached the exit and briefly regretted it. A wave of sensation took over -- a collage of demands, feelings, and instincts. DON'T DO THIS! Have faith and roll out. Just listen to Wade and GO! FEAR! FEAR! DO SOMETHING!
And like that, I was tumbling out of a noisy doorway.
I don't remember when I couldn't hear the drone of the props anymore. My ears in fact were instantly rammed with agonizing wind and pressure. Steve suddenly popped into view and Wade was giving me cues to remove my thumbs from the harness and move into the "lazy W" position. I was able to take cues from Steve to make poses for the camera and was too caught up in figuring out what to do to really absorb the reality that I was free falling at 120 mph. I remember getting tapped on the head by Wade but I did not understand that he was reminding me to pull the rip-cord. The chute opened and Steve rocketed below us.
The noise disappeared like a malfunctioning vacuum cleaner being unplugged and we were floating in near silence. My stomach revolted for a moment and settled down. I asked about which rivers we were looking at (the Fox and the Illinois) and before I knew it, the ground was closing in on us.
I yelled "WOO-HOO!" when I saw everyone on the grass. The landing was like coming off the swing set with my legs extended out and the grass skidding under my butt. The spectacular birthday gift from my wife ended with lots of questions and a really cool bumper sticker.
So You Wanna Jump from a Plane
My wife, Jamie, was in a hurry by the time I got off the phone with Dad because she needed to go online to get info for the drive to Skydive Chicago and I had the phone tied up. We were on our way by 11 am and our close friends, Sandy and Dave, followed us.
I was pretty calm except when I tried to engage my brain about what was going to happen. I recognized this as a means of trying to force the fear out of the way later by attempting to go through it now. It is a bizzare illusion that if I can be scared now, I won't have to go through the feelings when I am more vulnerable.
Once we were finally there, I had a small stack of waivers to sign and initial which CLEARLY stated that I could not win if I tried to sue and would end up paying for everyone's lawyers if I was dumb enough to take them to court anyway. It also made it very understandable that I might die. In fact, the wording almost suggested that I was going to die. "Sign here and here, sir."
Our five year old caused some embarrassment by crushing candy in the lobby on the floor and a staff member politely told Jamie that our children needed to be with an adult the entire time.
A very long wait stretched on and on until I was taken downstairs to the training room with three other first-timers for a very brief overview on Skydiving 101. I got my flight number (#327) and headed outside to sit on the lawn and watch the people drift down. I violated my idea of going up on an empty stomach as it was nearly 4pm and I had eaten sparsely in the morning. The KFC turned out to not be a problem.
Over tinny speakers, I barely heard my number called. Wade introduced himself as my flight instructor with a genuine Australian accent. My first impression of Wade was tall, very friendly, and rugged. He helped me suit up in a navy blue jump suit and got the harness on tighter than I thought comfortably possible. I met Steve, the vid/photographer. He was common among the surfer dude genre of people. I forgot to mention the barefoot, pink-haired-in-pig-tails woman in the office that seemed to be in charge. We boarded the prop plane and faced backward on the floor for the takeoff; each person straddling the one in front.
I checked my altimeter a number of times for something to do and avoided looking out the window in an effort to avoid visual cues that would screw with my sense of balance and well being. I glanced down as I approached the exit and briefly regretted it. A wave of sensation took over -- a collage of demands, feelings, and instincts. DON'T DO THIS! Have faith and roll out. Just listen to Wade and GO! FEAR! FEAR! DO SOMETHING!
And like that, I was tumbling out of a noisy doorway.
I don't remember when I couldn't hear the drone of the props anymore. My ears in fact were instantly rammed with agonizing wind and pressure. Steve suddenly popped into view and Wade was giving me cues to remove my thumbs from the harness and move into the "lazy W" position. I was able to take cues from Steve to make poses for the camera and was too caught up in figuring out what to do to really absorb the reality that I was free falling at 120 mph. I remember getting tapped on the head by Wade but I did not understand that he was reminding me to pull the rip-cord. The chute opened and Steve rocketed below us.
The noise disappeared like a malfunctioning vacuum cleaner being unplugged and we were floating in near silence. My stomach revolted for a moment and settled down. I asked about which rivers we were looking at (the Fox and the Illinois) and before I knew it, the ground was closing in on us.
I yelled "WOO-HOO!" when I saw everyone on the grass. The landing was like coming off the swing set with my legs extended out and the grass skidding under my butt. The spectacular birthday gift from my wife ended with lots of questions and a really cool bumper sticker.