You're strapped to a strangers back
inside a tin can 13,000 feet above the ground. The wind whips through your hair
as your stomach does flip flops into your throat. “No, no, no,” you mutter as
your instructor edges you to the open door.
“Go?” the instructor questions,
misinterpreting your “No’s.” It’s too late to correct him as you’ve just been
hurled out of the plane at 120 mph, straight towards the little green and brown
patches of land way below. Your brain takes about 1 second to realize you’re
falling before you manage your first exhilarating scream. You quickly realize,
it’s not a scream of fear, but one of wonder, amazement, and awe. You’re
plunging towards the ground at terminal velocity, what 5 seconds ago was a spec
is shaping into trees, roads, and cars. The ground is rapidly approaching, but
you don’t care because you’re falling in a wonderful bliss of uncertainy and
freedom. Suddenly you’re yanked upwards, a direct stop to your impeding doom,
replaced with a calm float to safety.
Yep, I went skydiving, not for the first time, but the second. My instructor tells me on the plane trip up, "the second time is worst than the first." "What, why?" I choke. I'm already having second thoughts and previously he was distracting my nervousness with mundane questions of where I'm from and what I do. Maybe it's a sick game to have you all calm and right before you leap, to mess with your head a bit; get the heart racing. "'Cause now you know what to expect," he smiles. Last time I jumped I pretty much hated the free falling. Yep, the reason most adrenaline junkies skydive in the first place is the part I despised the most.
People say that after you jump it's like floating because you're falling at terminal velocity. No, nope, nah uh. They're all mistaken. Falling is falling. At least it was the first time. I just remember jumping (all wrong I might add to the point where they asked if they could show my video to educate other jumpers on what NOT to do when you exit the plane) and my blood pressure skyrocketing because I had a consent stream of butterflies the whole 45 seconds down. My instructor was urging me to smile for the camera, but I was too busy trying not to hyperventilate. Thank God the parachute opened and then it was the most serene 10-minute float back to Earth.
Yep, I went skydiving, not for the first time, but the second. My instructor tells me on the plane trip up, "the second time is worst than the first." "What, why?" I choke. I'm already having second thoughts and previously he was distracting my nervousness with mundane questions of where I'm from and what I do. Maybe it's a sick game to have you all calm and right before you leap, to mess with your head a bit; get the heart racing. "'Cause now you know what to expect," he smiles. Last time I jumped I pretty much hated the free falling. Yep, the reason most adrenaline junkies skydive in the first place is the part I despised the most.
People say that after you jump it's like floating because you're falling at terminal velocity. No, nope, nah uh. They're all mistaken. Falling is falling. At least it was the first time. I just remember jumping (all wrong I might add to the point where they asked if they could show my video to educate other jumpers on what NOT to do when you exit the plane) and my blood pressure skyrocketing because I had a consent stream of butterflies the whole 45 seconds down. My instructor was urging me to smile for the camera, but I was too busy trying not to hyperventilate. Thank God the parachute opened and then it was the most serene 10-minute float back to Earth.
I determined then and there that I was
not a "faller" but a "floater". To be able to glide through
the air as effortless as a bird and take in the world below me was a wonderful
treat. It was what I wanted to do again. This time I was loaded onto the
plane with a few friends and my sister. She had always said she wanted to jump,
but never had the courage to do it. So when her friends invited her along and I
agreed to jump again, she had no excuse to back out.
We made her go first because we had all
jumped before and I'm pretty sure if she saw all us leaping into mid air before
her, she would have grabbed onto the plane and never let go. It's one thing to
say you'll jump, but to be 13,000 feet up and wait long enough for your brain,
and its negative thoughts, to catch up with your body, and it's ability to use
it's limbs, is not good. The door opens, you're pushed out, the end...At least
for her. For the rest of us in the plane, well, it was priceless to witness
your sister/friend's face scrunched up in terror, eyes to the ceiling, and then
hurled through the sky. Priceless.
I got to go last because I informed my
instructor that I'm not really a fan of falling and if I truly hated it again,
"could I just pull the parachute and float down?" He looked at me
like I was a little crazy, but agreed. Funny enough, after the initial shock
of, "f**k, I'm falling," I really didn't have the butterflies and
although it wasn't a total "float" feeling, it wasn't a horrible
falling feeling either. Just when I was accepting this strange new feeling of
skydiving, I was yanked upwards and my drastic descent ceased. I had enjoyed
myself. All my earlier anxiety flying up and looking over the edge of the plane
was in vain. It so wasn't as bad the second time as the first time. It was more
enjoyable and the parachute ride to the ground was still just as exhilarating
as I remembered.
So, although I love the floating aspect
of skydiving, I think I will enjoy the falling part just as much next time. Especially
because I want to do some somersaults or other tricks on my way down, and of
course, enjoy the looks of terror on other jumper’s faces.
“I’ve never let anyone ride the plane
down. ‘No,’ sounds a lot like, ‘Go,’ when you’re sitting at the edge of the
door.” – Instructor Sean Harrison.
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