It was the morning of my 29th birthday. The sun was shining. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. It was like the sky had been painted with one big paint stroke of royal blue paint. The phone rang: "Perfect day for skydiving, wouldn't you agree, McMullen?" my friend Mike asked.
"Damn straight, Mikers!" I answered gleefully.
"I'll be there in ten."
In those ten minutes before he arrived at my front door, I sweat profusely, I smiled uncontrollably, and I had nervous pee.
I hopped in his car, we picked up our other friend Numa, and headed to Abbotsford where, one hour later, we would eagerly toss ourselves out of an airplane at 11,500 ft.
The closer we came to Abbotsford, the more nervous I became.
My tongue was tingly; I had to pee; I was yawning uncontrollably. All the silly signs that my body emits when it fears something. It was like a big "danger danger!" warning. But I ignored it.
We walked into the "office" and were immediately given a waiver to sign. Nervously laughing at our stupidity, we signed our lives away, agreeing not to sue should the parachute "fail to open". Ah!
We walked over to the hangar and got geared up: I had a sassy black jumper with green stripes on the side, a leather helmet, and some yellow goggles. Very chic. We met our tandem jumpers. Mine was named Ky, a seriously hip and cool dude who was nearing his 1,000th jump. Incredible! Ky suited me up with my harness, checked things over, and gave Mike, Numa, and me a quick five minute lesson on how to skydive:
1. Get in the plane.
2. Get strapped on to your tandem jumper
3. Put your legs outside of the plane one at a time.
4. Cross your hands over your chest.
5. Jump!!!!
6. Extend your arms out like a bird.
7. Scream bloody murder!!!
Our plane was a single engine, propeller plane painted in brown camoflauge. It had no seats. So we sat on the floor.
The propeller started; I crossed my fingers and highfived my friends; and we took off along the runway (a field) and began to fly. Derrick, the skydiver whom I paid to video my jump was across from me and kept showing me his altitude gage. At 4,000 feet, Derrick, Ky, Mike, Numa, and the rest of the crew broke out into the best version of Happy Birthday EVER!
"A 4,000-foot brithday Kim," said Derrick. "What do you think?"
"Love love LOVE it!" I said, clapping, and smiling a smile that was bigger than my face!
Then, suddenly, we were 11,500ft up and Derrick opened the door and stepped outside of the plane. The video camera was on and I was the first jumper!
Ky yelled loudly over the force of the wind coming in the side of the plane (which, by the way, does NOT suck you out. I guess that only happens in the movies. It's just really loud and enormously frightening): "Ready?"
I nodded. But I was not ready. It was a lie. But there was no turning back now!
I put one leg out side of the plane. Took a breath. Then the other.
Ky counted down from three. And we LEAPT!! Then we FELL! (and fell, and fell some more!)
It was intensely frightening and overwhelming exhilirating!
Although we were, essentially, plummeting toward the earth, the force of the wind at that altitude makes you feel like you are soaring. The wind rushed up my nose not unlike water in a pool during a poorly executed dive. We fell for 35 seconds, then, at 5,000 ft, Ky pulled the parachute, and we floated like balloons in a gentle breeze back toward the earth.
The view from 11,500 ft is indescribable. We could see the peak of Mt. Rainer in Washington in the distance. The snow caps of the rockies. The green banks of the Fraser River. We could see the tiny homes in Abbotsford and the rows of vineyards in the valley. It took my breath away (or maybe the sheer terror did that, I'm not sure!)
Although I was afraid in the plane and before the jump and during the jump and during the parachute ride, the spectacular scenery and the sensational exhiliration of actually FLYING in the sky for just a moment was so very much worth the feelings of fear that preceded this crazy adventure.
As we floated downward, I thought: Holy Crap! I am flying. I am flying!!!
And I was.
For a split second, I was a bird in the sky.
It was one of the single most incredible experiences of my entire life!
As we descended and our landing target became clear, Ky prepared me for landing: "Put your feet up!" I did. But my legs are longer than Ky's, so my feet still hit before his, and we had a bit of a crash landing (it was soft though, so no new bruises to take pictures of!
We untangled from the parachute, laughed, and my videographer Derrick said: "How was that?"
I was breathing heavily, like I had just run a marathon. "Holy shit." I said.
"What do you have to say to the people at home?" he asked laughing, video camera in my face.
"Holy shit!" I repeated. "That was amazing. Just holy shit."
I was sure that i had left my heart and my brain in the plane after I jumped. I couldn't form sentences. My thought processes were hindered. I was on a skydiving high. Thinking to myself "What the heck just happened?"
Mike came in to land a few moments later, we hugged and high-fived. Numa came in third, a smile beaming on his face!
We took an "after" picture, all of our smiles too big for our faces.
And went out for a pint at a local pub, looked at each other, and asked: "Did we just do that?"
Then "Hey, when do you want to do it again?"
Happy birthday to me!
