SKYDIVING!!!

For my 30^th birthday last year, Jahkedda bought me a pass to go skydiving and since we were preparing to make the leap to live here in Santo Domingo, she also bought one for herself so that we could make that leap together. Unfortunately, Mother Nature was not on our side and we weren’t able to make the jump before leaving the U.S.

Taking advantage of the good weather during our last trip to the U.S., we rescheduled our jump during our time with my folks in Baltimore. Commandeering my father’s SUV, we made the nearly 3-hour trek out to the jump site in northern Virginia. Upon arriving at the airplane hangar, we were greeted by the matriarch of the family-run business, surrounded by her adult sons, her daughter, son-in-law, and their 2 small kids. Her husband had just landed in the neighboring field and was busy unlatching their previous customer and rolling up the chute.

After signing a stack of liability waivers and receiving a brief (very brief!) tutorial on the process, I found myself being strapped in. One brief glance at the very compact Cessna airplane made it very clear that Jahkedda and I would not be jumping together. Whereas Jahkedda had done this once before and sensed that I was the more nervous of the two of us, she suggested that I go first. Strike now before reason and nerves drained the remainder of courage left within me.

While the plane looked small from the outside, it wasn’t until I stepped inside that I realized just how small it really was. There were no more than 10 feet from the pilot’s dials to the rear of the plane. I couldn’t help trying to calculate whether the size of the plane made it more or less likely to plummet to my death. Interrupting my calculations, the door slammed shut, the noisy engine kicked in and we began to taxi to the runway. Everything was happening so quickly that I hadn’t had time to think about what I had gotten myself into, the imminent danger before me. However, once the plane took off, there were no more instructions or preparations to distract me from my own thoughts. All that existed were me, the pilot, the guide and roar of the engine beneath us. A wave of doubt and second thought rushed over me. Paying good money to jump out a perfectly functioning airplane seemed at that moment like the most ridiculous idea I had ever had. But by then, it was too late to turn back. My best bet was avoid looking out the window to try to forget what was about to happen. I looked for a distraction. I did my best to avoid eye contact with the guide and all that he represented. I focused on the innumerable dials and switches manipulated by the calm and seemingly experienced pilot. I found escape in guessing what each switch controlled, what each meter measured. I was surprisingly successful in my pursuit. It wasn’t until the guide, whose existence I desperately tried to forget, roused me from my state that I was abruptly reminded of the task at hand.

Strapped tandem to the guide and at the appropriate elevation, the door is swung open and I am faced with incredibly strong winds and clouds passing below me. The guide instructs me to lay my feet one in front of the other out the open door and onto the ledge below. What happens next is all a blur. The next thing I remember is falling. And fear. Fear that something would go horribly wrong. Fear that I hadn’t paid enough attention in pre-flight tutorial. Fear that my hands weren’t positioned correctly to allow for the optimal deployment of the parachute. Fear that I had tempted the fates and as in some Greek tragedy, the day’s events wouldn’t turn out well for the protagonist.

Then, as if by magic, all became serene. I was in my correct position. The sensation of falling had diminished in my mind. I slowly took in the view. My heartbeat slowed. It was as if I was no longer falling. I was gliding slowly and comfortably back home. All was again right with the world. The guide deployed the parachute with a slight jerk and we began to drift towards the ground. He handed me the reigns, one on either side of me. I was told to tug on one handle, which made us swirl in one direction and then pull on the other to make us spiral in the other. I had very little tolerance for such antics. I had somehow miraculously survived the worst of the fall, and now that the parachute was open and we were all but home free, he decided to tempt fate once again. I wanted no part of it. Sensing my lack of enthusiasm for this part of the process, the guide reclaimed the reigns and guided us smoothly and efficiently back to the landing field.

Once on the ground, my heart rate was much higher than I expected and the sensation of falling still remained within me. There was also an overwhelming feeling of relief that we had landed safely and the strong desire to never leave terra firma again. Jahkedda was there in the field to greet me. I was very happy to see her. Next was her turn, and I knew, as in most things, she would perform much better than I.