The View at 14,000 Feet

I flew home today on Air Canada from Chicago and the turbulence on the plane reminded me of a day that was one of my most defining moments.   

We all have those.   

If you find a long lost friend and try to sum up your last 10-20 years, you tend to step back and look down at yourself and think - what the heck has happened that is profound enough to make it into my recap to you?  What do I skip and what do I tell?   Do I only share the good stuff or do I show those dark days?   Do I show my weakest traits or portray life as a postcard?   How do we balance to be honest and show the highlights and lowlights and be real and genuine about our path we've travelled?   

This one is one of my highs.

I am close to 30 years old.   Just before or just after is questionable, but let's say around 30.   I agreed to jump out of a perfectly good airplane.  At 14,000 feet.  Twice it was cancelled due to high winds and both times I remember thinking it likely wasn't meant to be and I shouldn't get too worked up about it.   

And then it was on.

I woke up and I genuinely think I had thought so little about this nor done any research that I honestly had no clue what I was getting into.   I do remember that I didn't tell my Mother.   I'm fairly certain that she would have panicked for the whole day so I decided I would tell her after, once it was all over and I still was in one piece.

We got to Skydive Burnaby and I had to sign a bright yellow waiver that basically said "We are not responsible if you die".   In fact, that might have been the exact words on the fluorescent paper.   Only then did it start to sink in that this was a completely assinign adventure and I might not have life insurance.   

We were all ushered into a "training room" where they teach you "how to fall".   

Um, excuse me?   There is a skill to this?   

There were videos playing around the room with skydivers all over the place.   You can hear the screams as they fall out one by one out of the plane and into the great unknown.  I'm not sure this is a good sales pitch at this point for what is to follow after signing a death waiver.

I chose to do a "tandem dive" meaning that I was literally attached to another human being.   

I am not only jumping out of a perfectly good airplane, I am now attached to someone else and giving up complete control.   Control.   Like there is any possible chance you have any of that on a 14,000 feet drop from a puddle jumper.

The safety training begins but I am on such a state of disbelief at the time I'm fairly certain I heard nothing but white noise.   

Out comes Donavan.   Donavan, the Australian sky diver, who lives at Skydive Burnaby in a trailer.   Adrenaline junkie.   He has the strongest Australian accent you've ever heard, his hair is down to his shoulders and dyed bleach blonde and he has no shoes on.   

HE HAS NO SHOES ON.

He walks to up to me and says in his accent "Hello, are you Sarah?   I'm Donavan.  You're in good hands.   Today is my thousandth jump."

His thousandth jump?   Where are his shoes??

We walk over to the "perfectly good airplane" I was describing earlier and it is anything but.   It is a rickety puddle jumper and my Mother would've had a fit had she seen any part of this fiasco.   It has 12 seats.   We walk out into the middle of the airfield like we are part of Top Gun, sunglasses on, harnesses clinking away at our sides, the sound of the engine and fans in overdrive.   

Reality has just sunk in.   You have to be kidding me.   There are 12 people about to get onto this plane and I'm calculating in order in my head where I need to sit so I'm not the first person who is jumping. 

And along the way, a few of the other adrenaline junkie divers look over at me.   

"Oh, you got Donnie.   It's his thousandth jump today."

"Better watch out"

"Don't worry, he always lands on his feet".

Oh dear.

So, Donnie and I are now wonderful friends.   We get into this plane and I'm attached to this guy by a hook.   The engine is humming.   The nerves are taking over.   And I would say I'm starting to be somewhat concerned that this perhaps was not the best idea I've ever come up with.   

The Aussie says to me "How do you want to dismount the plane?"

Me: "Excuse me?"

Aussie: "How do you want to dismount the plane?"

Me: "You're going to have to speak English.   I'm not so sure I have any idea what you're talking about".

Aussie: "Well, do you want to somersault out, or dive, or go out backwards?"

Here is my answer.   

"If you get me to the ground in one piece and on my feet, I don't care how we dismount this plane".

Oh ... to change the clock back.

I'm standing at the door.  We are at 14,000 feet.   There is an open doorway and every intelligent thought in my head resists going anywhere near that door.   Who in their right mind jumps into nothing?  

All I can see is white.  We are above the clouds.  There is no ants, no people, no houses, no streets and highways.  NOTHING.  White space.

And we're off.  I dive out with him attached to me.

The wind is so cold.   I feel like my skin is separating from my face.   You know those air dryers in the bathrooms.   The dysons.   You run your hands under them in the mall bathrooms and the skin does funny tricks and looks like it's separate from your hands.   

THAT WAS MY FACE.   

The rush.   

It felt like 100 miles an hour.   

We dove free fall at 5,000 feet.   

The oxygen.   

My lungs.

It was taking my breath away. 

Fast.

Shot out like a cannon.

And then everything stopped.

I was floating.   

We were floating.

And we were rising.

I caught my breath and looked around.   

I could see the entire Toronto skyline and I was FLOATING.

I looked up for the parachute but it wasn't there.

We had done training on this and I didn't understand how there was no chute above me.

I was so confused.  

I think I finally found my voice and squeaked out "did you pop the chute?"

And he said "no, I will soon"

I said "um, we are floating??"

Beyond anything you could ever grasp was that moment.   

It was without question the most peaceful moment of my life.

Floating.  

In the air.   

Like a bird.

We could navigate left and right towards other divers and there was NO chute.

Bizarre.   

Still is bizarre to me this day.

The most breathtaking view of Toronto I have ever seen.   

My ears were ringing.  

The peace was indescribable.

And then the chute was pulled.

We dropped down for what felt like a minute and then popped right back up higher than where we were in the first place.

As we started to descend, I didn't want it to be over.  

I wanted to land and run back over to the plane and do it all over again.

And this crazy Aussie landed on two feet BAREFOOT.

1000th jump.

My first.

A day to remember for the archives.

My adrenaline was so cranked that when I went to get in the car, I slammed the car door on my hand.  My finger was bleeding and I should've got stitches.  I wrapped my hand up with paper towel and stopped at Tim Horton's for cold water and gauze.  

I jumped out of a rickety plane and landed on two feet but needed stitches trying to get into the car.   

And I called my Mom.

"So, do you want the good news or the bad news?"

I still have the scar on my left index finger to prove it and a memory for life.