The morning of October 24th of 2015 was bitterly cold and blustery in spite of my heavy sweatshirt and fleece lined beanie. We drove with the windows open to prepare me for the more extreme cold of the higher altitude and arrived with a runny nose and the shivers. But I was determined that day to finally taste flight for myself. I had been working a part time job saving up money for the sole purpose of skydiving, where most people my age were saving up for the latest phone or their first cars. I, however, was the adventurous sort from a young age.
We arrived at the air field and spotted a small shack, a metal canopy, and a runway with a handful of small planes. After registering and paying the fee, I was directed toward the metal overhanging canopy where several skydiving suits hung from a metal rod. The first suit I tried on was ridiculously big on me, and it appeared as though none of the suits were going to fit me. But then I spotted the bright turquoise blue jumpsuit hidden between two large ones in the mix. It was caked with dirt and grass stains, but appeared as though it would fit. The suit was snug as I zipped it up, but it fit and didn't seem to hinder my movements or breathing.
Satisfied with the suit I had chosen I was then met by my jump partner, a white haired balding gentleman with quick bouncing movements and an energetic voice. With a clap of his hands his directed me to a pile of harnesses beside the jumpsuits composed of straps, clasps, and buckles. This was the harness that was going to attach me to him in the air, since he was the one carrying the parachute. I chose carefully which harness fit me best, realizing my life truly depended on being properly fastened to my instructor. He then walked me through step by step exactly what to expect when our plane left the ground. He explained the plane's rout, the altitude we would be jumping at, and even demonstrated the technique we would be using to jump out of the plane by sitting bowlegged on a bench with me in front of him and teaching me to lean forward in a trust fall.
I fought against the nervousness welling inside of me as our pilot announced it was time to board the plane. The dwarfed aircraft carried sixteen passengers and a pilot; among the passengers was a personal photographer I had hired to jump with me to document the experience. The inside of the plane had been gutted of all chairs or interior. The shiny tin of the walls was unadorned and the passengers sat cross-legged on the floor, rolling around and tipping with the turbulence. Rolling a short video, the photographer asked me,
"Who is the most important person in the world to you?"
Without hesitating I answered, "Probably my dad." He nodded thoughtfully and then asked, "Who is the most important person in the world to you right now?" And without missing a beat I pointed a sharp finger toward my instructor who was toting our parachute and said, "This guy right here," earning a chuckle from the two of them.
When we had reached our proper altitude, the side door of the airplane was manually slid open by some of the other skydivers, seemingly far more experienced. The rush of air sounded like a tornado raging around us, loose trash or papers flew out the open door, and instantly I could no longer hear the nervous chatter inside of the barren cabin. I then watched as one by one the other skydivers scooted to the edge of the doorway, leaned forward, and tumbled head first out of the plane. When it was our turn I felt my instructor nudging me forward, since by this time our harness were clasped together and he couldn't move until I did. Urged on by my rushing adrenaline, I scooted to the edge and gazed out across the open horizon. The farmlands seemed like the grass of a golf field, raging rivers looked like rain drop soldiers, houses looked like tiny specks, and I could even see cars driving around looking like ants marching toward their hill. As I took in this amazing view, I began to feel myself lean forward with presser from behind. Then, all at once, I was leaned so far forward that the weight of my body dragged me downward out of the plane and I was suddenly tumbling in a free-fall toward the earth. The wind resisted my body's descent and I felt my eye mask press firmly into the supple skin around my cheeks. Then, my instructor pulled the cord and the parachute opened. I felt as though I had been grabbed by the back of my jumpsuit and lifted into the air by some unseen giant. My breath caught in my lungs and the jolt was so strong that I panicked for a moment as though I had hit something. We seemed to hover in mid air for a while, suspended in time and space. Then the wind struck us and sent our parachute in a spiral, spinning us in circles that would have been nauseating if I weren't so overwhelmed.
The view was indescribable. To have openness in every direction, a vast horizon kissed by an early morning sun. I will not take away from the awe of that feeling by attempting to describe it. Instead I encourage you to experience it for yourself. If you ever get the change to, go skydiving. It will leave you with sensations that you will never forget.
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