08.23.10 - 11:03 pm

i jumped out of an airplane friday.

i sat on the edge of an open aluminum doorway, my legs dangling 13,000 feet above a quilt work of rural farmland.

and then i leaned forward. just slightly. enough so that my weight grabbed on to all the straps and buckles i was wearing and pulled me out. and down. at 160 miles per hour.

i was much more relaxed this time. i kept my arms crossed and let the fear pass as i knew it would. those three or four seconds of primal, instinctual panic were something to enjoy. it passes too quickly to enjoy in any way but fond retrospect. my stomach released its clenched fist and i spent the next 50 seconds admiring the entire willamette valley. downtown portland. the span of the cascade range. i put my arms out in front of me and let my tandem, doug, guide them aerodynamically. this shifted my position in space, allowing me to spin and turn. i kept a close eye on my altimeter. i should have screamed, would i have heard it? probably not. there is only white noise at 160 mph. there is no sensation of falling, only floating. flying. unlike any other physical sensation one can experience.

"do you feel comfortable pulling open the chute?"
"well, uh, you know, not really, i dont need to, you can do it..."
"no. youre going to pull the chute."

what a fool i had been to resist.

so never refuse an invitation, never resist the unfamiliar, never fail to be polite and never outstay the welcome. Just keep your mind open and suck in the experience. And if it hurts, you know what? It's probably worth it.

exactly. i need to stop saying no to new experiences. so i pulled open that goddamn parachute. at 5,000 feet, the needle on the altimeter was in a red zone between 4 and 6. i reached behind me, felt the bright orange golf ball with my fingers and pulled. nothing happened. so i pulled harder and instantly felt my harness tighten and strain under the force.

immediate breathtaking silence.

the fear creeps back in at this elevation. an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. a giant pair of scissors could cut a single thread and i would fall to my death. two yellow straps were hooked around my fingers. i carefully pulled my right strap down, ever so slightly. i barely shifted. doug took my hand and forced it down toward my waist. suddenly there was no horizon. i was facing straight down, my body dangling lifelessly. he released my right hand and pulled down my left hand, and my legs swung to the right as our whole flying contraption swung left. fear. be careful, we could start spinning. lose control. tangle cables and parachutes and fall thousands of feet. but doug was in control. his spins were executed with skilled precision. he pulled both straps swiftly downward and suddenly my legs kicked unconsciously as the sensation of falling stirred them to life again. we stopped in mid air for a brief moment and slowly resumed our descent.

my feet touched the ground several minutes later. i ate at a mcminamins and spent the rest of the day running time consuming errands. still in disbelief that i had jumped out of an airplane just a few hours before.

it still feels foreign to think about.

and there is a feeling building that this could be something i start doing frequently.