Skydiving Adventures

My husband and I went skydiving in Buckeye, Arizona today.

I had been planning his surprise birthday present for about two weeks. Making the decision of whether or not I would dive with him, as kind of a joint birthday thing, was probably one of my most difficult decisions. I’d asked him if he wanted his present the day before his birthday (Sunday), or the next weekend after his birthday. Big surprise, he chose the day before. He has no strength holding out for the element of surprise.

July 7, I call and make the final preparations for our dive. We have three choices. The first is a static line jump - $110. This is where one jumps from the plane at about 5,500 feet and the parachute is immediately pulled. A person would only be free-falling for approximately 4-6 seconds. The second is a tandem jump - $140. This jump is when an instructor is actually attached to the person’s back. They jump from the airplane at about 10,500 feet and free-fall for approximately 45 seconds, then at 5,500 feet the parachute is pulled by the instructor, and the two land safely on the ground. This jump includes a half hour training course covering what will happen once one is in the plane preparing to jump. The last jump requires a seven hour training course, and one will essentially be prepared to jump from the plane alone.

After great difficulty, I choose the tandem jump. I couldn’t decide between that or the static jump. With the static jump, one is actually alone, which maybe more exciting, but I am really interested in the amount of free-fall. I want the most amount of time. Besides, with the tandem, one not only has a seasoned instructor jumping with them, but the free-fall time is 45 seconds. (whoooo) I also felt a little safer knowing that the instructor would probably have a little bias on whether or not we both survived.

I invite a co-worker, CynD, to join us. She declines, but suggests that I invite Connie, another co-worker. CynD is confident that Connie, not being of sound mind, would probably enjoy a near death experience. I ask Connie if she would like to join my husband and I. She excitedly accepts the offer, claiming that she has been ready to try it for a while, she just hasn’t had the opportunity.

Later that day, I taunt my husband mercilessly about having purchased his birthday present. He seemingly hates the self-control I have when it comes to keeping presents a surprise. However, I have a lot of anxiety about the jump, and I have to tell everyone else what I have planned to make myself feel better.

It seems everyone has a terrible jump story to share with (and discourage) me. One person, that knows a person, who knew someone, that had a friend, that became incapacitated from the waist down after the parachute failed to open. (Several stories like that) And an actual first hand experience of someone who had actually been at their skydiving school, for their first jump, when a woman failed to adhere to the “rules”. She died from hitting a tree and severing an artery under her arm. I’m brave - I still want to take my life into my own hands. We are going.

Sunday, July 13th -
Morning. I am very excited. I can’t believe that I have to wait until 5:00 p.m. to drive my husband to the Skydiving Center and finally reveal the surprise… We go out for lunch, and I suggest something light. I also establish that his birthday dinner would be better if consumed after I have delivered his present.

2:45 p.m. My self control is wavering. I am extremely nervous about my adventure into bravery. I feel like I am going to explode if I have to keep such an exciting, scary gift all to myself. I was hoping that I could just drive my husband out there, and say “Surprise”. But I can’t. I want him to be prepared for it. I want to see him squirm. I start giving him hints - no miss hints. Yes, it is larger then a bread box (that seems to be his standard measuring tool in the size and possibly even the quality of a present). “Yes, it is longer then it is wide. No, it is not a telescope. No, it is not a toolbox or an air-compressor.” Hint-my Dad wants one. (Perplexing look) Hint-it will make you feel like you lost weight. (More blank stares and shoulder shrugging) Hint-it will make you feel high. Now, he wants to know, physically or mentally? “Both!!” Ahhhhhh. Now we are on the right track. A barrage of answers come spewing from my love’s mouth. Skydiving, hang gliding, etc. Eureka!

“It’s skydiving,” I finally admit.

“No, you wouldn’t do that,” he responds. (this evasive babbling goes on for several minutes)

Finally, I am actually forced to show him my notes that include a short description of each dive and their respective prices. Now, he believes me. “No money back,” I tell him, “they have my credit card number.” He must go. The realization spreads slowly over his face. Besides, it is a joint birthday present, and he can’t ruin my fun (fun??)…

Now, I will have someone else to share in my excitement, and help calm my nerves - yippee!!

On the other hand… My sweetest, dearest-darling husband immediately picks up the phone and starts calling everyone to inform them of his birthday present… I, once again, am alone with my anxiety and nausea. My plan for being consoled and comforted by my Love has been squelchered. He is on the phone until 4:00 p.m. spreading the news, inviting friends, asking for pointers, begging for a glimpse of hope - telling his Mom?!?… (you’re not suppose to do that until after the jump-everybody knows that) No one wants to join us in our quest. Wimps.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, we are seemingly ready for our adventure. But, we must not forget to bring a change of clothing, including fresh undies. (just in case) It was recommended by a friend that we “go” before we go. Now, we are definitely ready. Off to the Desert Skydiving Center.

We leave our home in Scottsdale at about 4:00 p.m. The directions to the skydiving center are simple enough. Take I-10 west to Exit 109, and go south on Palo Verde Road. So, of course, I assume Exit 109 must be the equivalent of 109th Avenue - right? Wrong. Exit 109 would be the 109th mile east of the California border… Thank goodness we left early.

We finally arrive at 5:00 p.m. We are confident in ourselves. We have talked ourselves into it. We can do this, oh yes, we can do this.

I walk up to the front desk and announce our arrival. The young lady behind the desk appears to be about twelve years old. A seasoned skydiving pro, born and raised on adrenaline. Ha, I can do this if she can do this…

But, wait… It seems there are papers to fill out. No one had mentioned any papers prior to this. I talked to several people while making plans, and the mention of papers never surfaced… What papers?!

Oh, just a few forms, contracts and waivers. I can handle it, we can handle it. I thought. As I am glancing over the papers, death and the breakage of bone seem to be the prevalent topic. Sentences like we are not going to lie to you - people die doing this everyday seem to stick out at me. It also seems common occurrences include breaking of fingers, wrists, arms, shoulders, back, neck, legs - the dramatic change of your appearance and the great risk of becoming a paraplegic stick out amongst the sea of words. I must read each paragraph on the five pages (front and back) and initial each. Basically, each one is saying that I am going to die today, and no one can sue the company when I do. I am feeling very reassured and quite calm. It also seems that if they pack my parachute improperly (because they are only human) that I cannot sue them. If their plane crashes, I cannot sue. If they are driving me to or from the landing site, and their driver wrecks us, injuring me or my beloved, I cannot sue. They are really taking all of the fun out of this.

An instructor comes over to where my husband and I are filling out our forms, and advises us not to read them. It will only make us more nervous, and we have nothing to worry about. I wonder if he’s read them… Anyway, I finally get to the final pages, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, when a new factor jumps from the page and invades my senses. Tandem jumping is experimental. Excuse me. Although tandem jumping has been being practiced for about six years, the gear used in tandem jumping has not been approved by the FCC or the FDA, or FBI, or something of the sort. I can’t recall exactly. Now, I want to go home.

Connie arrives at about 5:30 p.m. my husband is surprised, he didn’t think she’d show. Saying you’ll jump out of an airplane, and doing are two different things… I walk out to greet her, thank her for showing some bravery, and inquire about the status of her nerves. She informs me that she is not nervous. (Wait until she reads the forms)

She reads the forms. Now, she is nervous.

It is training time. Our instructor walks us over to a makeshift plywood airplane. “A replica of the one we are flying in.” (again, I am feeling quite reassured) The cockpit is the same size as the one in the airplane that we will be jumping from. He has us get in, two at a time, and shows us how we will be sitting and how to exit the airplane once we are prepared to jump. (I believe I may have to be pushed…)

Next, we go to a big cable spool, tipped on it’s flat side, with a piece of worn carpet draped over it. He shows us an example of how to arch our backs, bend our knees, and keep our head up while we are falling. Then, he has us try it. Connie and I are pros. He corrects my husband, along with the two other men. Girls rule.

Well, our half hour training class has now topped five minutes, and we are now filled with enough knowledge to dive from an airplane at an altitude of 10,500 feet. We haven’t gone over the landing. It seems to be of no importance. We are ready.

The two other men in our class go first. It takes the airplane approximately 25 minutes to reach the altitude for jumping. (I guess they only feed the sparrows once a day, and it seems their strength is dwindling…) Anyway, the two land safely. Everything goes well. Even the landing.

Connie is next. They strap the gear on her and ask her if it feels tight enough. Apparently, she has “had tighter”. (every man in the place gets whiplash straining to glance at the one from who’s lips this has been uttered) I inquire again about her nerves. She says she is still not nervous. That’s okay. I am nervous enough for everyone involved. She climbs into the airplane and takes off. After 25 minutes have passed, we go outside and watch. I can’t even fathom what it must feel like to fall from that height. I see a tiny speck of hot pink falling through the air, and then her chute opens, and she and the instructor glide safely to the ground and land. Feet first.

My goodness. It is my husband and my turn already. How I loved just merely being next. I could be next forever. Well, we aren’t next anymore. It’s all us. They strap me into the tandem gear, and tighten me up. I, personally, have not had tighter. my husband is also “geared-up”. Then his tandem partner takes notice of my husband’s untied shoes. His trademark Vans. It is suggested that he tie them. (What? my husband tie his shoes?) He asks if there are any other options, and they give him some heavy duty rubber bands. He slips them over the top of his shoes, assesses that he looks like a dweeb, looks to me for approval - denied, and proceeds to tie them.

Now, we make our way out to the runway. The airplane is slowly creeping up to us. The small door swings open. I am the first one to enter it. As I climb into the plane, I realize how small it actually is. Then three large males come clambering in behind me. It is very small. We have to sit on the floor, crammed in like sardines. My feet are actually underneath my tandem partner’s bottom… Maybe I should have mentioned my motion sickness earlier…

We take off down the runway and slowly start to lift off the ground and gain altitude. my husband notices that he can see out of the plane through not only the windows, but also a rather large hole in the bottom of the airplane door. The loose wires and exposed controls also seem to be putting an edge on his nerves. Oh, and we can’t help notice the fact that my husband and I are the only ones without parachutes. Even the pilot has one. This is very disturbing to me. my husband inquires about his and my lack of a parachute. Tony, my tandem partner, tell us that if we crash, at least three of us are going to survive. I gather that my husband and I are not two of those three. “You know what lawn darts are, right,” Tony says, “you’ll be Desert Darts.” (oh, the humor)

It seems like we have been in the air forever. I am starting to feel sick. Tony tries to take my mind off of it by discussing my ring. He informs me he has a gorgeous little number of his own that has been passed down through the generations in his family. He asks how many karats mine is, and tells me I’m spoiled. Then, he asks my husband what he does for a living… This banter works for a little while, but I still feel ill. I glance back at my husband, who is sitting behind me and to the left. He is looking the way that I feel, a little yellow-green. I ask Tony if we are almost there. No, only about halfway. I glance down at the device on his wrist. It tells what altitude we are currently at, and it is moving up by the second. Still, it is taking forever. My feet are falling asleep. Then, Tony asks me what I do for a living. I tell him that I am a Graphic Artist, and that I also teach aerobics for fun. It seems he was also once and aerobics instructor. We have a nice conversation about what it was like for him to teach in the eighties. After a lengthy discussion on what each of us teach, and taught, I remind everyone that this is my husband’s birthday present. We all sing a rousing hymn of Happy Birthday. Still looking quite green, my husband does his best attempt at a smile. He isn't talking much. I think his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth.

A few minutes later, Tony tells me that we are ready. All Ready?!??!! We can’t possibly be. But, yes, it is time. my husband’s tandem partner tells him to undo his seatbelt, (floorbelt?) and starts giving him some last minute pointers. Now, my instructor tells me to do the same and goes over what my actions should be. “When we jump out, keep your head up, arch your back, and bend your knees up behind my behind.” I am really, really nervous. He asks me to put my goggles over my eyes, and then he proceeds to tighten them to a point that actually changes my nationality from Hispanic to Asian. He starts to hook my jumping gear up to his. He buckles the bottom two buckles and pulls on them dramatically to assure me that they are, in fact, fastened. Then he has me watch as he fastens my right shoulder, then my left. Next, he tightens up my jumping gear once more. At this point, I am sure that my husband's tightened gear has changed his voice at least two octaves, then again, he isn't talking, so I will never know... The way that Tony’s and my equipment is joined seems to reflect the bond that I am feeling with him at this very moment. It is almost like I am in love, or at least extremely attached. This man, strapped to my back, has complete and almost total control over my destiny. “I love you, man,” I am thinking.

Now my jumping equipment is so tight, I can hardly breathe. In class I remember him saying to take quick shallow breaths. I do so, and it helps. I tell him how nervous I feel, and he takes my heart rate. I am at about 110 bpm. Then he tells me that he’s had people at 145-150 bpm. (I don’t feel any better) Tony then tells me to wish my husband luck. I tell him good luck, and that I love him.

They open the door, and my husband puts his foot out. I see him and his instructor rock back and forth, and recall in my mind what is being said at this point - “Ready, Set, Arch” - and they are gone. The last thing I see of my husband exiting the airplane is his left foot covered in his beloved Vans shoe. He wore the blue ones… Tied.

“Move over to the door,” Tony shouts to me.

I look down... It is an extremely long way to the ground. (I am really freaking out) He tells me to put my right foot out the door, and point my left knee out the door. I feel scared, mad, happy, sad, aroused, every emotion one could possibly imagine. He asks me to cross my arms, I don’t want to go anymore, this is really friggin’ scary. Then, I contemplate in my mind, that I probably don’t have much of a choice, since the man strapped and buckled to my back outweighs and muscles me by about 100 pounds. “Ready, Set, Arch…” I close my eyes, and feel him pushing us out of the airplane. I am falling. It is really loud. The wind is rushing past my ears and body at about 800 miles per hour. (my closest estimation) Tony has us completely in control, and it feels fantastic. He turns me towards the west, to see the setting sun, and then to the east to see Phoenix city lights. It is beautiful.

I see my husband and his partner to my right, their chute is open - mine isn’t, my heart skips a beat. Suddenly, Tony puts his forearm across my forehead and pulls it back against his body very firmly. I hear the parachute being deployed and my body is jarred for a moment when the chute opens up. Then, nothing but peacefulness. We are gliding through the air. Tony tells me that he won’t spin the parachute because of my problem with motion sickness, but I inform him that I dearly love roller-coasters, and that we should try at least one. He pulls down on the chute with his right hand and I feel my tummy do butterflies and flip up into my throat. It is wonderful, I am laughing. He spins us to the left, and then back to the right again. I wave to my husband. I can hear him shouting and cheering. Tony asks me what I think, and all I can say is that it’s beautiful. Such a rush, 100% Pure Adrenaline.

We go over the landing in mid-air. He informs me that because there is not a headwind, we will have to land on our bottoms. We are nearing the landing field, and about 15 feet from the ground, he pulls up on the chute, and we are lowered to the ground and skidding across the desert on our butts. Then I hear my husband, whooping some more, and turn around to watch him land. They seem to have landed a bit harder than Tony and I.

My husband has sustained minor injuries. He has marred knuckles, a scuffed shin, and a bruised tail bone. Minor injuries, considering we just dove out of an airplane.

Connie comes out to the field, and we start excitedly discussing the feelings we are experiencing. We agree that it is undescribeable, one can only experience it.

My husband and I get up and go back to the Skydiving Center to fill out our instructors log book and each get a certificate that states the fact that we actually did dive out of a perfectly good airplane. I ask my husband if he liked his present, and am pleased with his exuberant answer. Connie and I decide it is way past time for a drink, and we all head out to the nearest bar.

Anyway, I loved it. my husband loved it. It is something that you can only experience first hand. One cannot describe the way it feels to be falling through the air at that height. It happens so quickly once you are doing it. Within ten minutes of landing, it feels almost surreal. Like you didn’t really do it.

Neither of us think that we would do it again. my husband actually admitted that when I told him what his present was, he was trying to think of a way to get out of it without looking like a big chicken… He couldn’t let his little wife show him up. He said he knew that I would do it. That I was “a nut case”.

I think that if enough pressure and coaxing were exerted, we’d do it all over again! The waiting is the hardest part.