So I recently turned a whopping 3-0 and I had one intention on the big day: to not have just another birthday. I made a plan months ago to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. I won’t lie, up until I was 10,000 ft in the air, I was a heady combination of nervous, anxious, antsy, eager, exhilarated, and scared-out-of-my-mind. At 10,000 ft, I lost feeling in my body. But I’m the kind of person who has to go through with something I set my mind to, admittedly sometimes to my detriment. Previous incidents have involved swimming long distances, putting recently heated jars of honey in cold water, and visiting a tattoo shop. But I thought, if I was going to die in a skydiving accident, then people would always know I truly lived my life. And so I went.
It’s ironic how instinct kicks in at the strangest times. The instructor tells me that we’re going to get on our knees, step out onto a ledge on the side of the plane and jump. When he opened the door the size of an SUV window, I thought, “This is a terrible idea, I could fall!”
Those five seconds on the ledge were the scariest five seconds of my life. I stepped out to the roar of the propeller, the all-encompassing wind, and then two seconds later, the ground rushing up to me at 125 mph. I felt like a cartoon character that had run off a cliff. The first three seconds of the fall, I thought, “Yep, I’m going to die, this is exactly how you’re supposed to feel when you’re about to die.” And then I realized I had just jumped out of a plane and I was victim to the miraculous phenomenon that is gravity. And most of all, I did what I said I was going to do.
50 seconds later I finally stopped screaming and then it was an “Oh My God!”-filled cruise down to the earth.
I don’t know if I want to give up all my possessions and run off to the skydiving circus just yet, but I will definitely, definitely, definitely, be doing that again.
Enjoy the video…
and Happy Flying!
P.S. Thanks to the crew at Long Island Skydiving for a great birthday, and to Geoff, for the wild ride!