OK, confession – I have always wanted to jump out of a plane. I remember being a student at UF and looking longingly at the flyers for the “Falling Gators” skydiving club. I’m not sure why I didn’t do it. Money? Fear? Whatever the case, it never happened much to my regret.
So, as I arrived in Auckland and sought activities with which to occupy my time a brochure for Skydive Auckland caught my eye. And I thought about it. And I checked out the website. I had no real intention of actually sky diving. Until I called the number and booked an appointment for this morning. I was told to meet my driver at the base of the SkyTower to await my delivery to the airstrip.
I arrived and was greeted by Stacy the driver from Wales and Allison and Liam from Australia, my skydiving companions for the day. Stacy related that he came to Auckland 13 years ago on his way to Australia, jumped out of a plane, was hooked and never left. He’s been working for Skydive Auckland ever since. Allison and Liam were teachers from Oz on a two week break. They had been out the day before, but it was too windy and had to re-schedule for this morning.
There was surprisingly little paperwork when I arrived. I wrote down my parents’ number (just in case the chute didn’t open) and signed that I realized there were serious risks involved like death or being flattened by the rapidly approaching ground should something go wrong. I signed happily. I also bought the DVD and picture package. How many times do you sky dive for the first time? Once…I needed proof.
Within 20 minutes we were on the plane. There were two benches in the back parallel to each other, no seatbelts. We all squeezed in. There was also a handle above the windows to hang on to. I wasn’t strapped to Sam from Brighton yet (the guy that I trusted my life to; I wouldn’t jump out of a plane with just anyone…I have my standards) and we continued to climb. After 7 or so minutes he announced that we had reached 9,500 feet. You know 9,500 feet doesn’t really seem like a big deal on a commercial flight. It’s a lot higher when you know you will be exiting through the roll back door on the side of the plane. At this point, as Sam strapped on my oxygen mask, I thought about my breathing. Meditation, I decided might be good in a situation such as this. I thought about the irrationality of what I was doing. It was comforting that if I decided not to jump, I still had to pay the full price. It was good incentive not to chicken out.
Quickly we reached our altitude. Liam and his dive guy went first. Then it was my turn. I thought as I slid off the bench and onto the edge of the plane that it was much less scary than a lot of things I have done. Easier, say than jumping off the high diving board. Perhaps knowing that I didn’t really have to do anything made it easier. I knew Sam was going to do all of the work. It was a rush sitting there on the edge of the plane with my feet dangling three miles above the ground. And, before I knew it we were falling.
You only get about 6 seconds of free-fall feeling when you skydive. Once you hit terminal velocity, that falling sensation goes away. Then you are just flying. For 75 seconds. And words fail to describe what that feels like. The feeling is simply impossible to label unless you have experienced it, which I highly recommend, by the way. And, as we sailed through a cloud at 5,000 feet, Sam pulled the rip cord and we soared back to the airstrip.
Suffice to say I am in one piece after the experience. Apparently it’s safer than a host of things, probably safer than getting in a car or using a toaster. But, you definitely don’t get that kind of a rush from making toast. At least not in my experience; maybe if you make toast while taking a bath and accidentally drop the toaster into the water, but that I am not willing to try. Skydiving…I’d do that again in a minute.
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