Free fallin'

Not long ago, Scott and I had a conversation about how we'd like to celebrate our 30th birthdays. Without hesitation, I said I wanted to go skydiving...and I wanted him to go with me. He laughed it off, thinking with two more years to go, he'd have plenty of time to convince me to change my birthday wish. Last month, when I was having a particularly rough day at work, I got an email from Scott, telling me one of his co-workers was trying to get a group together to go skydiving, and did I want to go? Um, duh? So I diverted some funds away from the black hole of student loan repayment and coughed up the cash, eager for the chance to plummet from a plane at 13,000 feet. Scott didn't quite share my enthusiasm, but ever the sport, he agreed to accompany me. After weeks of anticipation, the day at last arrived. Today. We drove out to Molalla, aka Middle of Nowhere, Oregon. What better place for a jump? As soon as we handed over the balance of the fee, we were presented with a 10 page legal waiver, reminding us of the obvious fact that jumping out of an airplane is an inherently dangerous activity, and should we end up a greasy spot on the landing field, our next of kin can forget about suing the diving school. We signed our lives away and were presented with two tickets entitling us each to a tandem jump. We were led back into a small classroom for our jump training, which was literally five minutes long. An instructor told us not to flail in freefall, demonstrated how to lift our feet at landing, and told us not to walk into the plane's propeller because it would be really expensive to fix. I'm not sure I felt particularly encouraged by that little speech, and I definitely didn't feel instructed, but since it was a tandem jump, I figured my jump buddy would be doing the bulk of the work, so I would just focus on not flailing. We spent the next three hours watching the crowds thin, as groups of people went up in the sky, disappeared from view, reappeared as tiny specks spilling from the back of the plane, glided back down to earth, and dropped to the ground. After watching several people make not so smooth looking landings, I decided I didn't want to ruin the jeans I was wearing by making a butt landing. It just looked painful. The hours passed and any jitters we might have had ebbed as we waited. Soon, we were all just itching to get on with it. We took tons of pictures and goofed around to pass the time. At long last, we were the very last people left in the queue. They called us in to harness up and pair us with a tandem buddy. I was paired with our instructor. Very reassuring. I was sure to stay away from the propeller, per his instructions. Then...it was time. We loaded into the plane, and since I was the last to board, I was at the front of the line to jump. The plane took off and began ascending. At 3,000 feet, my jump buddy hooked his harness to mine and tried to make small talk over the extremely loud noises of the engine. I think he expected me to be much more nervous than I was. At 10,000 feet, he pointed out the window and drew my attention to the winding Willamette, and downtown Portland in the distance. Oh my. At 13,000 feet, a solo jumper opened the door to the plane and my tandem buddy started scooting me forward. He asked me if I was ready to jump. Well, if I wasn't, it was a little late for second thoughts. There was no way I was going to back out now. The solo jumper disappeared, followed quickly by a guy from our group sitting to my right. Before I knew it, I was standing at the open door of the plane and out we fell!!!! At first, I was completely disoriented. The horizon tilted and when I realized I was falling, I squeezed my eyes shut and started screaming my head off, but only for a second or two. I opened my eyes and took it all in. It was the most incredible thing I'd ever seen and the most unbelievable feeling in the world. Free fall lasted just over a minute, which wasn't nearly long enough. When my tandem buddy pulled the parachute, I remembered to start screaming again. He asked me if I get motion sickness, and if you know me at all, you know I get raging car sickness and have had that problem since childhood. But I wanted an adventure!! So of course I lied through my teeth and said I did not! He then proceeded to test my resolve, and demonstrate his ability to dip and twirl and spin the chute in the air. It was better than any roller coaster I'd ever been on. The ground started coming up on us fast, and I asked him if we could possibly avoid a butt landing. He said the wind was picking up, making the landing a little precarious, but he'd try. When he told me to pull up my feet, I did, and when he told me to run, I ran. And my butt never touched the ground. It was the perfect jump. I can't wait to do it again!!!! But now what am I going to do for the big 3-0? I'm open to suggestions!