Controlled Scribbling


Jumping

The three of us stand restless staring at the summer sky. It is clear and blue, little to no wind. We are all happy with the weather today but our focus is on the planes. Small, single-engine Cesnas take off, climb circling to an altitude of three thousand feet, descend and then land back where they started. Before they start their descent, the door opens and all of the passengers are let out. Over an intercom, we hear our names. We are ordered to the staging area. We walk in silence to the inner room and put on jumpsuits. We select helmets and head to the front of the hangar. Waiting for further instruction, we start to chatter at one another. None of us really hear what we are saying, let alone what the others are saying. A few long moments pass before we are escorted to the rental gear. With the instructor's help we each strap on a parachute and get our final briefing. A plane that has recently landed taxis up and is ready to board. With heavy packs on our backs, we walk awkwardly to the plane and crawl in. I sit on the floor closest to the door, facing the rear of the plane. My palms sweat and my face pales as we move down the runway and into the sky. My mind is racing with thoughts so fast it seems blank. The plane climbs to a height three times that of the Sears Tower and the jumpmaster sitting close in front of me opens the door and smiles. All morning long we have been going over the three steps that are now needed. The steps are simple. The jumpmaster now screams these steps to me. "Put your feet out and stop!" On this command I reach out of the plane with my left hand and grab the strut under the wing while I hang my feet out the door and onto a thin step. The plane is flying eighty miles per hour into the wind. The noise from the wind coupled with the noise from the single engine muffle the screams of the jumpmaster. Struggling with the wind and unfathomable fear, I look back at the jumpmaster to see him mouth, "Get all the way out!" With this I pull myself all of the way out of the plane and hang from the strut with nothing under me for three thousand feet. I look back in the plane and get the thumbs up. Now all I have to do is look up at the bottom of the wing above me and let go. I just want to crawl back in the plane and go home; I am quite certain I cannot even remember how to breathe. I let go. A few seconds of panic that will last me for the rest of my life and the static line yanks my canopy out of its container. Now my canopy is open and free from the static line. I hang almost three thousand feet above the green earth. All alone I float gently. Nothing nearby, the plane is long gone and nothing is in the sky, nothing but wide open space. Following a slow descent, riding the wind I land gracefully like a bird. Still shaking a little from the rush of getting out of the plane, I knew I wanted to do it again.