Easily one of the most incredible experiences of my life. My friend Rob and I had discussed the vague idea of skydiving ever since we met freshman year. Then one Thursday, fall of sophomore year, we made committed – Sunday was the day. We joined 15 other crazy college kids driving up to Pepperell, Mass, but not before we divided our possessions among friends, told our loved ones we cared about them, and made an awesome playlist for our funeral.
Rob's rockin' the skydiving suit. What a natural.
First things first - we watched a 30-minute video listing the possible dangers of skydiving (as if my roommate hadn’t already engrained them in my head already) and fill out paperwork where you signed your life away, promising that your family wouldn’t sue Pepperell when you fell and died.
With nothing left to do but wait our turn, everything seemed like a typical Sunday afternoon. Rob and I spent a few minutes studying for our upcoming Chinese test (as if that’s what matters when you’re about to jump out of a plane) and the next hour or so just killing time.
We met our best friends for the next (or possibly last) 14 minutes of our lives – our instructors. They made a few cheesy jokes, then some scary ones, and finally took us up to the sky. That’s when I realized that my fear of heights was, in fact, still very much alive. It definitely didn’t help when we were almost 11,000 feet in the air, and they opened the plane door. I half-expected a giant yellow emergency exit slide to pop out and bring me back to the ground, but I saw nothing but little green specks that used to be several-acre farms.
I went first. Rob told me later that watching me drop out of the plane and disappear was what freaked him out the most. I started screaming way before I was pushed out the door (I’ve got a video I’m going to try to put up soon, it’s great).
Yup, that's me, screaming loud and proud. Hey look, there's Rob!
The first 3 seconds were freefall, and then I was just flying for a few minutes after that. Pretty indescribable; I’m no English major, so I won’t even try (is indescribable even a word?). I could see the ground getting closer, but I’d compare the feeling to lying facedown, starfish style, on top of a giant fan on its highest setting.
"I'm soaring, flying. There's not a star in heaven that I can't reach..." --HSM1
A few minutes of flying, and my instructor pulled the parachute… The suspense is killer, right? Well, I’m alive now, so something must have gone right. About ten minutes of easy sailing later, my instructor and I landed safely on a giant green field, where I watched in horror as Rob fell parachute-less to the ground. I’m kidding of course, I could never watch that happen. That’s just morbid.
So skydiving was pretty incredible. I was convinced for a while to become a professional skydiver. But then I found out that J.Crew was hiring. Oh well, maybe in another life.
*Except I “accidentally forgot” to tell my parents. I figured I’d save them a few worry wrinkles.
