"If riding in an airplane is flying, then riding in a boat is swimming. If you want to experience the element, then get out of the vehicle."
Yesterday, for about 10 minutes, I felt the ultimate freedom. I can honestly say jumping out of a plane at 9,500 feet, falling at a speed of 124 mph, toward the beautiful world, was the best feeling ever. The build-up, the excitement, the fear, the panic - up until the moment we flung our bodies out of the “perfectly good plane” was worth every second. I will freely admit that I had 2nd thoughts. After waiting around a hangar full of half-crazy men for two hours, I doubted myself. I was blank. I was in shock. The skydivers have a different perspective on life – they live it to the fullest. I thought mine might be ending this day. I hadn’t eaten in over 9 hours. My stomach was empty, on purpose. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen up there. I was completely in the dark. As they prepared me for every step, including getting in the plane, how my exit was going to go, how to arch my body, what to do with my arms, to throw up down my shirt if I felt the need, I was wishing I had taken notes. As I entered the plane with Hoyt, I forgot it all. It was gone, completely. What if I screwed this up? The one piece of advice I remember, “Whatever happens to you, happens to me. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
The plane ride took forever. I talked a little as Hoyt wanted to have a screaming contest. Our cameraman, Dan, won. I couldn’t conjure up a squeak, hardly. I told Hoyt that I couldn’t remember how to get out of the plane, he laughed. “We fall out.” I don’t remember what to do with my body, again, he laughed, “You do what mine does.” I can’t remember what he told me about my nose, teeth, etc. There was something about that. “It’s called breathing, Wendy. You do it all the time.” He patted my leg in reassurance, adjusted my harness and had me prepare myself by the door. As I stood there in front of Dan, face to face with him, while Hoyt strapped my body tightly to his, a hard realization came to me. “I have to pee.” I yelled to Dan. He laughed. “Me, too.” And the door was open, we stood on a small platform about the size of a foot, all three of us. I looked at Dan, “I can’t remember anything.” I shook my head. I started spurting out a thousand questions, which I don’t remember. I remember Hoyt, whispering in my ear, "We're going to jump on the wind's back!"
The next minute, I was face down, feet above my head, barreling down at the world. I do remember my first thought, “I can’t believe this!” And then my mind went blank. They told me this would happen, so I had to focus. They explain that your mind goes on mental block – it’s a defense mechanism. “You’ll only remember snapshots.” I focused hard as I arched my body perfectly; I took deep breaths through my mouth and stared directly at Dan as he came close to me with a wild smile on his face. I was skydiving! Then we were gently, pulled up into the sky by the parachute. It was gentle, wild and crazy – all at once. “You didn’t even scream!” were the first words out of Hoyt’s mouth. I laughed, kicked my feet and took it all in. It was peaceful, serene and exhilarating. Hoyt laughed, “Do you remember all those questions you were asking when we dove off the platform?” I didn’t. I laughed. “You did great!”
As we gently floated back to Earth, I already wanted to go again. I lifted up my feet as Hoyt told me to do for the landing. Once we were back on solid ground, every muscle in my body went limp. I laid back on Hoyt and stared up at the sky. I now know why the birds sing.
