Jumping out of airplanes…

This week I’m going to subject you to a story about my first skydiving experience that happened several years ago. One of my customers had just had her first jump at Skydive Chicago and learned that if we got enough people to sign up, they would come to Durkin’s and do the training class. I thought this was a great idea, so I immediately created a sign-up sheet and chartered a bus for the ride out to Ottawa, Illinois.

As promised, they sent out one of their instructors on a Wednesday night, and about 20 of us learned all about jumping out of airplanes and living to tell about it (all the while drinking beer). There’s nothing wrong with this scenario, is there? The instructor also turned out to be a pretty good salesman as well, telling me about a 7-jump package that would allow me to jump solo on my last jump. Not lacking for confidence (and always looking for a new adventure), I said sign me up!

On what could have been the last day of our lives, we bused out to the airfield. Upon arrival, they sent us in to get geared up, walked us through the procedures one more time, and introduced us to our tandem partners (the instructors strapped to our backs, responsible for keeping us alive).

I was not a small man… 6’2″ and over 240 pounds. My tandem partner was the last to arrive, striding confidently up to me and introducing himself as Cowboy. Even wearing cowboy boots and his cowboy hat, he didn’t come to my shoulder and couldn’t have weighed more than 150. I must admit that somewhere in the back of my mind, I was wondering if there had been some kind of mix-up in partner assignments.

Cowboy was a cocky 20-something who had just moved north from Missouri. His first words to me were, “So, I hear you want to do a solo jump and are up for anything?” To my detriment, he won me over immediately. We spent the next hour building up my excitement, talking about the things we were going to do as we headed for the plane. He warned me not to tell anyone else what we were doing and made sure we were going to be the last jumper out of the door.

One member of our crew was a retired FBI agent and one of the toughest men I knew. He also turned out to be the most scared as well. On the flight up, the instructors were having a good time with fatal humor while checking all of our connections on the tandem harnesses. As a former FBI agent, he took things seriously. So, when his partner, who happened to be a 20-ish attractive, petite woman, said to another one of the instructors, “Do you think it’s a big deal that this tandem clip is broken?” he didn’t take it well. Luckily, we still had a few thousand feet to climb to settle him down, assuring him that all would be OK.

At 12,000 feet, it was time to say goodbye to our perfectly good aircraft. I watched as all my friends stepped out of the plane, into the unknown. Because Cowboy and I were going to be doing things that we weren’t supposed to do on a first jump, he arranged for us to go last. When our turn came, we turned around backwards, unlike all the others before us. On a count of three, we rolled out headfirst and I got to watch the plane fly away. I must say, that was really cool… and the last enjoyable part of the entire experience.

After checking our altimeter, Cowboy asked if I was “ready” and I responded with a thumbs up. At this point, he started spinning us in a flat circle. We were going so fast that the tips of my fingers started to hurt and I started seeing red. After what seemed like minutes, he brought us to a stop and immediately screamed, “Now the other direction!” By this time, I was done with the entire experience, just along for the ride, and wanting it to be over (and praying I stayed conscious and didn’t throw up).

The spinning eventually stopped and he shouted, “One more trick!” He pointed us straight toward the ground, headfirst. I’m positive we hit terminal velocity and probably left a trail of smoke behind us. Earlier I mentioned we were the last to jump. Well…we were the first to the ground by several minutes.

I managed to stand and greet all of our crew as they safely and successfully found their way back to solid ground. After the last one landed, I sprinted for the bathroom where I remained for an extended amount of time, with friend after friend coming to check on me. I finally extracted myself from my new porcelain companion and made it to the bus, with quite a bit of assistance, because I couldn’t open my eyes. You’ll be happy to hear that by the time we made it back to Chicago, I had regained some independent function, though it took until the next day before I was able to keep food down.

The last couple of years I’ve felt like I’ve been in an endless free fall and ALS has replaced Cowboy as my tandem partner. Having already been on this ride, the second time around is proving to be a lot easier. I’ve learned how to control Cowboy and live within my own boundaries and abilities. The best part is that I now plan to enjoy the view for many more years before I have to get ready for that landing.

Note: Despite the less-than-stellar first jump, I did go again about a year later. The second time around was laid back, and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, but it would be my last one. Also, to my knowledge, KP had nothing to do with my misadventure, but I do wonder if he somehow sent Cowboy just for the fun of it.

To wrap up this week, I’d like to say God’s speed to the King of Coolness, Chuck Norris. I’ve spent the last few days reading many of the memes written about him and can’t stop smiling. I’m sure many more are being created up in Heaven.

I hope when you meet your Cowboy, you find yourself safely back on solid ground, able to retell your story for many years to come.

Find joy wherever you can, then share it.

God bless.

Coach