You can laugh all you want at my hair in that picture; but it was 1989, and I thought I looked cool.
On a whim, truly that impulsive, I joined a bunch of friends for a two hour drive to go skydiving. The airport was tiny, and only flew propeller (prop planes). We arrived around 10 in the morning, and the planes were lined up getting fuel, and the professional sky divers were busy packing chutes for the day.
In one tent, there was a class going on for those people who were jumping free fall for the first time, either via a static line, or the accelerated free fall. We were bypassing those classes. We only needed minimal instruction; I was preparing to do a tandem skydive; the skydive that requires the barest, minimalist instruction. You can get your training, and jump — all in the same day! I would literally be going along for the ride with a master skydiver, (someone who has already been certified through thousands of jumps) as I would simply be harnessed to him throughout the entire jump. My master skydiver, Mike, would be responsible for packing the parachute. I had only one task: to pull the rip cord when he said “ready.”
The master jumper can help the novice jumper move through any fear or anxiety that just might creep up during the experience of falling at 120 mph from 13,000 feet.
Our friends, including my boyfriend, and I (now my husband) went through about 30 minutes of “ground prep training.” Parts of the parachute were explained, how to read the altimeter that would be strapped around my neck, and then to sign the “release papers.” I’ll admit; that got me for a second or too. If it was so safe… then, why bother with these release papers? Still, not one to be outdone by her peers, I signed and was ready to go.
I spent most of the rest of the afternoon waiting, and watching my friends, and other strangers float out of the sky. Later, I would often hear this question, “Why? What made you jump?” Looking back, this could have been the time I backed-out, but then, I knew, I would always be left wondering what it would have been like to fall 13,000 feet in the air. I would rather know, than wonder.
Dusk was falling when it was my turn to climb aboard the decrepit-looking propeller plane. My boyfriend and I were going up at the same time… wasn’t that sweet? I was introduced to my master jumper; a gray-bearded, blue-eyed fella named Mike who seemed more like 19 than 65. My stomach started to lurch. I was beginning to become aware that the safety of the earth would soon be leaving my own “force field,” and my hands began to sweat, and I began to take shorter breaths.
When the plane choked several times at take-off, I was starting to feel a bit of relief; maybe we wouldn’t make it up after-all. If the plane couldn’t make it up, I would be spared from what I now was beginning to consider the trauma, of skydiving. When the plane did lift off the ground, it continued its spitting and sputtering, and dipping as we continued out ascent to higher altitudes.
It’s bad enough to be just a tad bit afraid of your first skydiving experience; it’s quite another to add the possibility of engine failure to the ascent of your jump. I was quickly becoming a nervous wreck. A quiet nervous wreck. Still, the master jumpers, and the pilot in the plane were laughing about the old “Betsy’s problems” and were exchanging stories about the mechanic’s latest attempt to swap out pistons… I can’t remember anything else. I shut down and tried not to hear the discussion about the frailty of this plane’s engine’s woes.
I did manage to hear this, though: “At least we have our parachutes.” These men added a whole new dimension to my fear of flying. If anything would happen to the plane; they could always jump out and free-fall with their parachutes. “Safest way to land,” they would say. Interesting thought. Still, I remembered those scenes in my mind of all those master jumpers packing the parachutes. They were laughing; yet so focused on what they were doing. Did they do it right? What if they forgot something?
Miraculously, Betsy made it to 13,000 feet. Now it was time to get ready to go. My boyfriend said, “Here we go, Susie,” and he winked at me, grinning ear to ear. I didn’t need this distraction; the thought that I may never see the love of my life again. You know that feeling when you’re climbing to the top of the first hill on a roller coaster? When that happens to me, I want to get off that roller coaster right then. I really do. The pressure, the anxiety and the awareness of that pending drop is more than I can stand. That’s how I felt right then on the plane. I was paralyzed with fear, and the idea of standing up in this plane to become strapped to someone else was beyond my body’s physical and mental capability.
Despite my protest, I was lifted up by Mike, and he began his work of securing the parachute, and securing my body to his. That’s when I saw the hooks. Simple, metal clasp hooks — two of them attached to a nylon belt that wrapped around Mike’s back, across his waist, and then around my waist. That’s it. A simple hook that could break, give out, or accidentally become unfastened. And the parachute, of course, is on his back; not mine. I guess I had never really thought about this before, but I had assumed that we would be more securely attached. Maybe I had envisioned something sturdier — I couldn’t think of what — but I felt extremely vulnerable. When I heard the clasp click shut, I looked over and down to check them, and my stomach lurched. “Oh, God… what have I done?”
So I asked Mike, “If these clasps break, can I just wrap my legs around yours, pretzel-like, and still stay attached for the fall?” “No way, he laughed, “the force is too great.” Poor Mike. His comment elicited fear, and a knee jerk reaction. But first, the door of the plane opened, and my crazy boyfriend and his master jumper jumped out and disappeared. Our turn. Fear had already made my legs nothing less than concrete. Mike, as a master jumper, had evidently seen this reaction before. He was undaunted, as he moved me closer to the door, tightened our straps, and exited the plane; me attached. I kicked, in an attempt to wrap my legs around his, pretzel-style, just in case he was wrong about the force. I hurt Mike; I made his shin bleed… even through his fancy, sturdy parachute jumpsuit.
Mike was a nice, decent guy, just trying to help people out. I regret hurting Mike. And still, I don’t think I said I was sorry.
Now, I know what Mike knew: the only cure for my stomach’s anxiety, my wildly-beating heart, and my fear, was to get out of that plane and out into the fresh air. I do not use the word “fresh” here lightly. The air smells fresher up there. Still, as the air hit my face, and all I could see was the ground rushing up fast to meet me, I could … barely…. breathe. Thankfully, for Mike, I couldn’t move either; so he was safe from any future injury.
While the parachute was on Mike’s back; the rip cord was attached to me, and it was my job to read the altimeter and pull the cord at just the right moment. I must have taken the laissez-fare attitude, “you got me into this mess, you can get me out of it,” because Mike ended up fumbling around to read the altimeter and pulled the cord for us.
Once the cord was pulled, I think we went straight back up in the air higher briefly, before beginning to fall, slowly. By now, I was really enjoying the pristine, crisp cold air; the air smelled better than the freshest spring day you’ve ever known. And this feeling of buoyancy was nothing like I had ever felt before. In a word; breathtaking. The view, unhindered by tiny airplane windows and wing, is unlike anything you will ever experience when your feet are firmly planted on the ground.
Then, I think I had one of those epiphany moments; where I felt “one” with the universe, so grateful that I had experienced the earth from this vantage point. This “jumper’s high” is what keeps the skydiving sports so popular, as jumpers keep going back for more. I interviewed an astronaut once for a business client, and he confessed: “Astronauts do go through depression when they come back to earth; it’s hard to leave space, and once they knew the lightness of space. It’s very hard to live within the Earth’s pull of gravity, once you know the freedom of space.”
When I landed, light as a feather, I was never so happy to be back on earth.
I felt like I had been gone for months. When I called my Mom to tell her what I had done, she was mad at me, for not telling her before I left. She wanted the privilege of worrying about me all day. Logic only a mother can understand.
A few months later, Mike showed up in the newspaper. There was some accident, a fault with the parachute. Mike was the hero in the story. As the master jumper that he is, he maneuvered his body around during the tandem jump, so that the novice jumper fell on top of him, and Mike’s body took the full brunt of the fall. In the picture, he was sitting on the ground, after the fall, still smiling, miraculously suffering from only a broken leg from the incredible fall. Mike was a good man.
Sunday Scribbling’s prompt this week is fearless.
Susie, I totally felt like I was there with you. I could almost smell the fresh air, and I am certain that my hair is a little messier because of the blowing from the free fall.
that was a great story! And you guys look great in that picture! You haven’t changed a bit!!
So funny to read this – I just had the opportunity to try sky diving and after much agonizing I turned it down. Reading this was fun though. Thanks for letting me experience it through your eyes.
Now that post was flying high. Well done. For both words and deed.
WOW!! You ARE fearless! I loved hearing about this amazing experience. So great that you Did go ahead with it and have this memory instead of the regret of never having tried. As exciting as this sounds Suzie… I would Never in a million years attempt it.. fearful is my middle name. 🙂
You had me gripping myseat here Susie!
I’d never be able to do that but, silly me, I always think that if I did jump off the plane I’d be so paralysed I wouldn’t have the clear head to pull the parachute thingy. So I was relieved you didn’t have to do it. lol I think I’d pass out or something, but after reading this I feel slightly curious. lol
Yes, I do remember. Also I remember your Mother calling me to see if I knew about it and did not tell her.
No you did not warn me either. But, I don’t think I would have talked you out of it. I remember the time I went on a hot air balloon ride. It was quite scary, but once I did it, it was a great experience.
Just like you, after I had already done it I read in the paper about a balloon getting tangled in some power lines.
That shook me a little.
This is something I always wanted to try…like you..tandum. Last year I parasailed for the first time which gave me my first glimps..I LIKED it. ALOT. I want to try but wonder if I’m too old..too fat.. Should I just wait for my 50th?
Would you do it again?
One of my college roommates did that. She was a little on the crazy side.
Me? Never. I like to have a little something around me if I’m going to be that high up…like an airplane.
I was totally there with you through this extremely well-written story. The nearest I’ve come to this type of experience was to ride as passenger in the open-to-the-air cockpit of a glider, towed by prop plane to a a high altitude and released to circle down, catch updrafts and share them with hawks. One of the things I remember is the silence, so different from the inevitable noise of an airplane, and the freshness of air on my face.
I admire your courage in doing what you did. Even more, I admire your expert writing that takes us there with you.
Wow – a 120mph feather! Rather you than me, and your superb account has done nothing to tempt me! Great post.
What a post! I enjoyed it!
Wow. You have courage. I could never do it.
And if one of my kids ever does, I hope I find out when they are back safely on the ground. 🙂
Oh what a great post. I think I would have blacked out. Just the thought of it gives me goosebumps.
Oh YOU ARE BRAVE! Never in my life would I have done that or would do that! I am just too scared.
I felt the same way when I rode on a roller coaster for the 1st time (last year), as the line got shorter, I was hoping some malfunction would happen so that I would not need to go on it.
I was trying to prove something.
Excellent post, very well written, I’ve alwayswondered what it would be like to skydive but I get really bad vertigo so its probably not for me…
this was a fabulous read- totally honest, and reminded me of my first attempt at skiiing! arghhhh! you did better!
I have always wanted to do this – am I too old at 56?
I pretty much had a panic attack READING this, so I don’t think it’s ever going to be on my to-do list. Still, you wrote about it BEAUTIFULLY.
Wow, you really brought us on your jump. I felt your emotions and I would have kicked Mike too with the engine banter. He was a hero in the end but your story actually made me want to do it too. Well written!
oh, I have always wanted to sky dive!!! this was great!
Oh my! Skydiving! You ARE fearless! And dear me, I completely get your mother’s logic…. LOL!!
What a story! I never wanted to sky dive – although I did work as a regional carrier flight attendant for a short span of time and even the thought of jumping out of plane on the ground caused my stomach to trip! Great post!
I really enjoyed the part about your mom having the right to worry about you. I wonder if this is a generational thing or if I’ll be as ridiculous with my own children. Probably! Great post!
I have a terrible fear of flying/ skydiving but you make it sound so amazing. Maybe one day I will be brave enough to try it!
I’m short of breath just reading about this – I am so impressed that you went through with it! Great story, and very well written too.
Omigosh – it looks like your smile is so big in the last picture that it’s going to break your face!!!! I laughed the entire time I was reading your story but I think my hands started sweating too… GREAT writing, Susie!
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