The Kick in the Pants I Needed
Ok, so maybe I did needed to jump out of a plane to cure my pre-summer funk.
Skydiving was awesome. (I say this like there's any other option.) The worst thing about the whole experience, is the ascent. When you go diving, they squeeze as many jumpers into a tiny plane as possible, so you feel like a can of sardines. My tandem, Gila, and I, sat by the pilot, so you know what that means ... we were jumping last.
With each foot we climbed, I could feel the pit in my stomach growing. Grass and pavement turned into green and black splash marks, while houses and buildings became little white clusters. According to Gila, most jumpers' "Oh, sh*t!" moment, is the 10 seconds you stand at the door before taking the plunge. "So we're going to make that part as quick as possible," he said.
After he found out I'm an "experienced" jumper (one jump? hardly!), he asked if I was "feeling a little frisky" today. Absolutely, I said.
So during our free fall (about a minute total) we did some somersaults, floated on our backs and did some 360 spins on our stomachs. I saw the ground, the sky and stared the sun right in the face. It was cool (much cooler than on the ground), and the action was freeing.
Once we pulled the chute (I was offered the honors, but that was one responsibility I wasn't confident in taking on that day), we flew around for maybe 5 minutes. We swung by the other jumpers and had face-to-face chats in the air. And best of all, the landing was simple and smooth--two feet on the ground, no sudden jolts and all body parts in tact.