When Mark called me last Thursday to tell me that he'd booked our skydiving adventure, my heart was pounding out of my chest and my stomach was in my throat. It was a feeling that I thought would only intensify as I neared the moment when I would throw myself out of a moving plane 18,500 feet in the air.
Leaving the house, I jokingly told Maddie that she could have my books and my shoes and that if something should happen, the three of them should take a trip to Spain in my honor.... The way up was long and it was surreal. Mark and I weren't really going to jump out of an airplane.... People didn't just do that. Did they? The colorful floating dots in the sky seemed to suggest otherwise. That's when it hit me and my palms began to sweat.
Over the next two and a half hours, Mark and I signed our lives away, forgot about our nerves as our excitement grew, watched bachelor parties, couples, old guys, and friends suit up and come back smiling from ear to ear. Each time an instructor called an eager soul, he would greet them with something hilarious like "Hey buddy, let's go throw you out of a plane." or "Hi. I'm Mike. I'm the most important man in your life now." One dude in a pink shirt, from New Zealand, was the funniest of all of them. Mark and I cracked up every time he came for someone else and both crossed our fingers hoping that he would be the one to "throw us out of the plane."
When the time came, I was the lucky one to go with Piddy and Mark went with Mike. I thought for sure the shaking hands and sweaty palms would start when I got in that airplane with the two little benches. It didn't. Piddy was just so pumped, it was hard not to be overflowing with excitement too. And on the way up, it wasn't the nerves that took my breath away, it was the view. The light hit the mountains perfectly and as we climbed to 6,000 feet and then 17,000, my only emotion was pure exhilaration. Piddy told me we would jump at about 18,500 feet and soon after he told me we'd reached 17,000, the little door opened up, Mark waddled over, and in two seconds, he vanished. I was probably the fifth one out of the plane and when it was our turn, we waddled to the door, I inched my toes over the edge and all of a sudden I was free falling at 130 miles an hour.
We were falling so fast, my stomach didn't even have time to reach my throat. And I couldn't scream either. But somehow, I could laugh and look around. What I saw was unlike anything I've ever imagined... The runways and airplanes looked so small, yet I was plummeting towards them at a frighteningly fast speed. After about a minute and at around 6,00o feet, Piddy pulled the chute and it was a jarring couple of seconds as the parachute snapped to life. The four minutes that followed were breath-taking, peaceful, crazy, fun, and wonderful. Piddy steered the parachute back and forth over the ponds and landing area and when it was time for landing, we glided right in for a perfect landing on our butts.
Skydiving was unlike anything I've ever done. It was fun, exciting, and unbelievably, not scary. I imagined shaking limbs, fighting tears, and a speeding heart rate. Instead I found myself laughing, agreeing that I was "a mother fucking bad ass," and wondering how jumping out of an airplane could happen with such nonchalance...
In one incredible afternoon, I strapped myself to a guy named Piddy, wearing a pink shirt, I flew up to 18,500 feet over the foothills, I jumped out of a double propellor plane, I free fell for 12,500 feet at 130 miles per hour, I floated softly to the ground, I became a certified badass, and for five whole minutes, I felt like a superhero.
It was "fucking awesome."
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