"I went Skyyyyyydiving"

I decided to include this entry I wrote on a private journal about my first time jumping out of a perfectly good airplane...I was just planning to include it for the experience, but it was fun finding some of the earliest trickles of the raging personal river I find myself on now.

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December 14, 2014

Today I went skydiving.

It was a long drive down to Thomaston, but music took me down the road well. In fact, with my Maui Jim shades on, Scythian on Pandora, and a date with the sky up ahead, it was one of the more restorative drives I’ve had in a while. 

I got to Skydive Atlanta about half an hour early and, after patiently waiting while a new registration girl learned the ropes, I was ushered into the hangar to wait. The building was buzzing with activity: a muscly dude repacked chutes with occasional grunts along a broad mat stretched across the floor; two jumpers lay on little trolleys discussing formation technique; there were even two or three dogs wandering around snuffling at palms and nudging at helmeted heads. The scattered staff appeared to carry the joie de vivre I'd expected, all adrenaline and “dude” and complicated handshakes.

I watched quietly as a young girl and guy get suited up and have an opening shot to the video of their impending jump. Then they and about half the hangar cleared out to the tarmac, where they filled the small but formidable-looking plane just beyond the open hangar doors. 

When the time came for my training, I expected it to be me and a bunch of others, but my tandem instructor, Noah, simply grabbed me into the preparation room and started giving me the basics one-on-one.

I should say that at no point in the process was I ever truly afraid or doubtful. I hope it doesn’t speak to some deep-seated death wish that I didn’t worry at all about the prospect of disaster. On the contrary, I felt like I spent the training trying with every expression to convince Noah I didn’t need him to reassure me. But still, I listened carefully and when Noah told me the few things I’d have to do (kneel at the airplane door, arch my back when we left, hold my hands up as we fell, and lift my knees as we landed), those responsibilities became the only things I actually felt some stress about. Not "would I die?" but "would I get it wrong?" Noah himself was a delightful skydiving elf, about a foot shorter than me with a surfer’s blonde hair and a great attitude. If I HAD been freaked out, I think he’d have dispelled it rather quickly.

Once geared up, I have to say I felt like quite the bad ass. Whether it’s the full-body jumpsuit or the tightened harnesses (no comment), it just feels like some badass shit is going down. Noah checked the chute and then, quick as you please, led me out to be the first to climb into the now returned and empty plane. The rest of our flight filled out behind me, all single jumpers. The ones near me were particularly kind and reassuring about my first trip and matched my enthusiasm when I told them how excited I was. 

Then, in a surprise thrill I hadn’t considered, we took off while facing backwards, only nominally belted to the plane. I watched as the airfield disappeared below and smiled back at Noah whenever he shouted forward facts and encouragement. 

The first of our fellow jumpers got off super early in an effort to qualify for a certain higher level of certification. Noah said he essentially had enough time to right himself and rip. That was a little terrifying to think about, and I was thankful when he soon afterward clipped himself to me and cinched us together. 

We climbed and climbed until, at last, the door opened again. At this moment, I got to be a part of something cool. Each of the jumpers in front of me turned to each other and started giving a quick handshake, a slip and pound, before turning to another person to do the same. And shortly after I realized what was happening, the four jumpers nearest me offered a hand to do the same. I’m sure it’s all commonplace for them, but it felt like a true bonding gesture, whether it’s meant to convey a shared sense of awesomeness or a tacit recognition that, in a rare, rare instance, we could be the last people someone sees. I don’t mean to be a worrier with the latter…I actually find that explanation more comforting. 

Of course, my pulse did climb as the others started dropping out and Noah pushed us closer to the open door. After everyone else had left, I knelt with him behind me, my knees at the lip of the opening, with only open air beneath us. Then, as he told me he would, Noah rocked me back, forward, back, and then out. I arched back as instructed, while my brain tried to take in the fact that we were flipping through the air at 14,000 feet and looking up at the plane we’d just left. 

The free fall once we righted was thrilling, but also a little intense. It's nothing that would deter me from doing it again, but I definitely felt the air ripping past my neck. All the more reason to shed some pounds perhaps. 

Soon, though, Noah pulled our chute and we came to a slow glide above the world. It was gorgeous beneath us, all green fields and water, blue sky and sun. It was a strange delight to be drifting so high above the world and to be having a conversation with another person.

Noah spun us a few times around, then circled us over the airstrip. My friend Amber had told me to prepare for some deep thinking, and sure enough, I thought, "If I'm not scared of jumping out of a plane, then why the hell should I be afraid of any of the other choices I want to make in life?" I will figure everything out in time. If anything, the drive today made me think about spending my sabbatical out on the road, traveling the highways for days at a time, staying with friends, just making my way through this country. I’m thrilled to try it. 

We came in for an exciting landing back at the airfield, drifting over the plane that had taken us up. As we were climbing, Noah and the others had discussed the fact that I could no longer say I landed in every airplane I ever took off in. That thought charmed me and I almost wanted to stick my tongue out at it as it taxied in…as though it hadn’t intended to release me out the side. 

A few clips and de-gearing later and Noah presented me with my jump certificate…even now I have no idea where it is. I didn’t get a video either. I just waved at him as I left the hangar and got in my car. The purpose of jumping today wasn’t to document it, to prove it to anyone, or to do something with friends. The point was for me to go out into my world and experience it myself. To show myself I could do something. If I learned anything today, it’s that I don’t have a lot of fear in my heart. And that is truly something interesting to find out.

Thanks to Noah Slagle and everyone at Skydive Atlanta!