Add yours!  E-mail me at:  SkyRookie@aol.com

By Gordon B. Evans:

I have wanted to jump all my life.  I arranged jumps many years ago (1974, I think) for my cousin and myself.  Couldn't get my parents to sign.  Later that year, staying at his place, tried to get his parents to sign – no luck.  I tried hang gliding in 1977.  Absolutely loved it, but no facilities close by, and too expensive at the time.  I was talking to a 22 year old guy at work a few months ago and mentioned to him I had skydiving on my "to do" list.  He looked me up and down and said, "you better get that one off your list before you get too old to do it!".  I'm 41 years old.  However, I took the comment to heart, and last October, made my first jump.  I went to school for the required 4 hours.  The jumpmaster was going through the procedures like, no problem, this stuff is all pretty no brainier.  My jumpmaster has an incredible almost 20,000 jumps logged. Anyway, I got in the hanging harness, went through the procedures again. Counted through the pull - open sequence many times.  Finally got on board a Cessna 182 for my first jump.  I jumped static line, a whopping big Man-O-War (320 sq ft).  As we were cruising to altitude, one of the experienced jumpers (11 jumps) said, "hey man, you know the difference between a golfer and a skydiver?"  I'm sure many of you have heard this before, but I hadn't at the time.  "The golfer goes "WHACK, Oh shit!", and the skydiver goes "OH SHIT, WHACK".  Comforting words to hear as I was preparing for the step out the door!  I stepped out all the way, gripping the strut with a Vulcan death grip (probably creased the metal).  I stared at the red dot on the bottom of the wing while running through the sequence one more time.  Ready?  (head nod).  Jumpmaster gives the release signal. I grit my teeth and close my eyes.  Now or never.  I released the strut, and promptly forgot to arch thousand, 2 thousand... etc.  In a couple of seconds, I was under canopy.  It was a fantastic rush.  I decided then and there, I would have to get my license.  Great ride to the ground, and landed right on target.  Didn't flare worth a crap.  Landed on my tailbone and broke it.  I was too psyched to care.  It was great, great, great!  I'm now on jump 17.

By Kevin L. Lafollette:

First Jump DZ:  Chicago land Skydiving

On October 10, 1997 I woke up, looked out the bedroom window, decided to take the day off of work, and go jump out of a perfectly good airplane. It was one wild e-ticket ride as you will soon see. My "Adventure in Skydiving" started about a week before the actual event when I sent e-mail to the whole office at work to see if anybody else was as crazy as myself and wanted to go skydiving. Surprisingly, I found about 7 other people wanting to give it a try. After getting the details, all but two of the group decided to do a tandem jump, where you are strapped to the front of the instructor (doggie style) and he wears a parachute built for two. The advantage to the tandem is it's cheaper and only takes a half-hour of training. The downside is trusting your life to someone you barely know. Jeff & I, being the maniacs of the group, wanted to do the AFF (Accelerated Free Fall) course. AFF takes 6 hours of training and then you get to jump on your own. Friday was looking like the perfect day and no one else could get away from the office, so Jeff and I decided to go for it. We went to Chicago land Skydiving http://www.jump-chicago.com in Hinckley Illinois, which is about 50 miles west of Chicago. We spent the day learning about how parachutes work, how to exit the airplane, free fall body positions, ripcord pulls, malfunction procedures, and landings. After signing a half-dozen release forms and listing our next-of-kin, it was time to do the real thing. Jeff & I flipped a coin and I won first jump. I suited up, strapped on the parachute, helmet, and goggles, and climbed in the deHavilland Otter twin turbine jump-plane with a dozen other nut-cases. We quickly rocketed up to our jump altitude of 14,000 feet. It was sunny & 75, the sky was blue, and the winds were light. A day don't get no better than this. I was fairly calm on the way up, chatting with my comrades, doing some deep breathing, and visualizing the jump sequence in my mind. Before I knew it the 2 minute alert went out and everyone started to get ready. The side door opens and the cold blast of air comes ripping into the cabin. Everyone starts whooping & hollering. The green jump light comes on, I hear the jumpmaster yell "GO GO GO!!!", and an odd site plays out before my eyes. One by one the first group dives out the door head first, leaving an empty cabin before me. Before now, it was just an exercise, now it's the real thing. I feel my stomach wrench into knots, my mouth goes dry, and it hits me like a ton of bricks. "What the hell am I doing here?? Am I insane? I'm going to jump out of a fucking airplane!!! I'm too young to die!! AAAAGGGHHH!!!!" My survival instinct kicks in and some part of my brain tries to tell me that voluntarily leaping out of a perfectly good airplane isn't a smart thing to do. I kept telling myself this is something I WANT to do! I take a few deep breaths and shake it off. All the other experienced jumpers have left and now it's my turn. Bo, one of my instructors (doesn't that sound like a skydiving instructor's name?) slaps me on the back and yells "Are you ready to skydive??" I scream "Let's do it!!" I take the long walk towards the back of the cabin and inch towards the door with the wind screaming by. I swear I heard someone call out "Dead Man Walkin". Carolyn (my other instructor) climbs out the door first, hanging on to the edge with one hand and me with the other. Bo flanks me on the other side and I find myself crouching sideways in the doorway a mere fraction of an inch from the precipice of a 3 mile high cliff. I take another deep breath (maybe my last) and look over the edge. It's my last chance to back out. The only thought I have is "No way I'm quitting now. This is costing me $275 and it's non-refundable!" I'm in position. It's time to do the Hotel Check. "Check-in" with my jump-master/instructor in the plane, then "check-out" with my second instructor hanging outside the door. They both give me the nod and I start the final count. Look forward at the propeller of the plane, a little bob up, a little crouch down, OUT and AARRRCH!!! The instant when my fingers loose their grip on the cold metal of the plane's doorway, there is no turning back. I feel the most intense emotional rush imaginable. Fear, joy, life, death, love, hate, insanity, and bravery; all in one split second. The exhilaration is overwhelming. I jump out and hit that 90 mph wind and feel like someone just whacked me in the head with a 2x4. For a couple seconds I'm looking up and back at the underside of the airplane. "I'm falling!! I'm falling!! Oh my god, that's the plane above me!! Oh Shit, I'm upside down!!" As I fall, I force myself with every fiber of consciousness I have left to maintain my spread eagle arch. I have an overwhelming desire to curl into the fetal position and start sucking my thumb. At this point I have no idea what is going on. I go into sensory overload and have to strain to snap out of my temporary coma and focus on the stuff I need to do; find the horizon, check altitude, practice grab the rip-cord handle, find my body position, and learn to fly through the air. The chaos is beginning to settle down. Now I begin to relax, "this is just too cool!! I'm floating! I'm flying through the air!" (well, really falling like a rock at 130 mph, but I don't want to think about that right now.) My instructors are on each side of me but I can't see them and nearly forget they are there. They flash the occasional hand-signal for me to re-position  my body and get a more stable freefall attitude. The wind is screaming through my helmet, I feel my cheeks rippling in the slipstream. I've fallen from 14,000 to 5,000 feet in about 50 seconds. All too soon, it's over. Time wave off, pop the chute and pray the person who packed it knew what the hell he was doing. I fumble for the rip-cord handle at my right hip and pull with  all my might. After pulling the cord, there's the eerie feeling for a couple seconds when nothing seems to be happening. I flash through my emergency procedures and reach down for my cut-away and reserve handle just in case. All of a sudden I'm not flat on my belly looking at the ground anymore. I feel this sudden pressure in my "crotch area" as the harness digs in and I hope everything is neatly tucked away (if you know what I mean). The sky is a blur and the air
is squeezed out of my lungs. All I can muster is a wheezing grunt. That 2x4 I got whacked with earlier just turned into a cast iron frying pan. I decelerate from 130 mph to 25 mph in 4 seconds. I'm disoriented as the violent screaming free-fall turns to absolute calm. It takes a couple seconds to register what's happening and get my eyes back into focus. All the while I'm trying to hold onto the ripcord in my hand (it'll cost me 15 bucks if I drop it.) After I regain my wits, I look up and see the most beautiful site. A big pillowy rainbow colored canopy rustling in the breeze over my head. I quickly stick the ripcord into my jumpsuit and reach up to grab the steering toggles. "Whew!!, what a relief, everything seems to look good up above, now where the hell am I??" I look down and can see the instructors and others dropping below me. Just as they vanish from sight, all these brightly colored squares pop open and twirl their way around. "Okay, there's the road, there's the railroad tracks, there's the jump-plane on final approach to land, there's the postage stamp piece of grass I'm supposed to hit." I watch all the others land first and get out of the way for the maniac student about to come screaming in. I look down at my dangling legs and suddenly realize I'm hanging one mile above the corn fields by nothing more than a fancy kite, a bunch of string, and this nylon thong that's now giving me a major wedges. I see the freefall had unraveled the bow-tie knot on my left sneaker and am just hope my shoe doesn't fall off. (It would be a bit tough explaining to the insurance company how a shoe fell from the sky and smashed through the window of the Mercedes in the parking lot). I float around for about 5 minutes taking time to enjoy the view. I begin practicing turns and flares, getting a feel for how to fly one of these oversized kites. Finally I'm low enough to start thinking about the landing. I have a radio strapped to my chest so my instructor can talk me down. Unfortunately he sounds like that teacher in the Peanuts cartoons and I can't understand a thing. So I guess it's up to me to get safely back down to ol' mother earth. "Okay, where's that windsock? Good, I'm moving into the wind, check my altitude, a couple of S-turns to burn off altitude, and head for the landing zone." After hanging in the air for 5 minutes and feeling like I'm never going to get down, these last few hundred feet seem to be rushing up way too fast. The landing area is surrounded by cornfields and I find myself a little too low. "No problem, I'll just rev up the engine and go around for another try. Oh yeah, this isn't a Cessna 172. I only get one shot at this!" Just as I think I'm going to be pulling corncobs out of my ass, the wind lets up a little bit. My feet touch the tops of the first couple rows of corn, I yank the steering toggles down as far as I can, and brace for impact. The canopy starts to flare and I skim over the last row of corn and into the landing field grass. I land on my feet, take a couple steps, slip a little, and fall on my butt. A perfect "three point" landing! Yeeee Haaw!!! Woo-Hooo!!! All-Right!!!! I'm alive!! I'm alive!!!

By Wayne Bonnett:

First Jump DZ:  Greene County Sport Parachute Center

Well, I finally did it... All I can say is WOOOHOOO I wanna do it again....Do you wanna come???? On Saturday, June 20, 1998, I jumped out of a perfectly good airplane at 11,500 feet. Do the math my friends, that is 2.178 miles ABOVE the wonderfully stable earth. People keep asking me "ARE YOU CRAZY?!?!?!?" Well, if that's what you call it, then yeah, I guess so. I have found a new hobby....... Anyway here are the details of the jump: There was a total of 7 people to jump with our team, and we were all from UPS. We arrived at the Greene County Sport Parachute Center in Bardstown KY at around 9:30 am, about a 45 min drive from Louisville. When we got there the sky was just too cloudy to do our jump.... We thought that we wouldn't get to do it because of the cloud cover, but that all changed later. We then proceeded to sign our lives away, and I mean that literally. We had to sign waiver upon waiver that basically said 2 things: 1. YOU COULD DIE!!!! 2. YOU OR ANYONE CAN NOT SUE!!!! I thought.... WHAT-EV-ER this is gonna rule, lets go! After spending probably about 15-30 min (DAVE) of signing all the legal paperwork, we then got to watch a video waiver that basically said 2 things: 1. YOU COULD DIE!!!!! 2. YOU OR ANYONE CAN NOT SUE!!!!! Again I thought.....WHAT-EV-ER this is gonna rule, CAN WE GO NOW? Ok, well at this point we all paid our $125 and were all psyched to go! But the 'Jumping Out Of Plane Gods' didn't see it that way. It was still too cloudy for our jump.... Well, finally we were given the thumbs up and Sheila and I got our jumpsuits and harness on, and we were ready to do it, finally...... But then the JM (Jump Master) said that it was getting too cloudy again..... MAN THAT SUCKED BIG TIME!!!!! We took off the gear and began to wait again in the grotesquely hot and humid afternoon..... Yes that's right, I said afternoon. I hate to wait, and that's what we did.. Finally, after several smokes and some mountain dew, the JM said LET JUMP OUT OF A PLANE. We got suited up and we were actually going to do it this time.. After we practiced out exit's from the plane, we were ready for takeoff. This was only my 2nd time in a plane and my 1st time in a small plane like this. On the first jump there were 3 of us. Me, Dave, and Sheila, and our respective JM's plus the video/photographer. The climb to what was supposed to be 10,000 feet seemed to take forever...... What a peaceful feeling, looking down at the ground as everything keeps getting smaller and smaller and smaller…. 1000, 2000, 3000, 4000, 5000, 6000, 7000, 8000, 9000 Climbing to 9000 feet was awesome, we were all screaming and extremely pumped up at this point. In my mind I was thinking "1000 more feet to paradise baby" and finally the magic altitude.... 10,000 feet. However, the pilot could not find us an opening in the clouds... We kept looking at our altimeters, and they kept going up. 11,000 feet..... COOL…. MORE FREE FALL TIME.. Still no opening.. Finally at over 11,500 feet one of the JM's said "I didn't know this plane could go up to this altitude. (I thought that's a little too much information dude) Anyway, after rehearsing several times what my role was for this whole thing, it was finally time.... Dave was the lucky one... He was first.. All I saw was a smile on his face before his exit :o) I was next. Boy was I scared. Yeah that's right, I was scared... Not the scared feeling you might think of, not the height, but the fear of the unknown.... Anyway, as my JM and I scooted toward the door, my mind totally blanked out everything except for the training that I had earlier. There I was.... Dangling by my harness attached to my JM, OUTSIDE OF THE PLANE. I thought to myself (as if anyone could hear me anyway) "This is the coolest thing that I have ever done". Well, the JM asked me the question of a lifetime. This is what our conversation was: JM : ARE YOU READY TO SKYDIVE?!?!?! ME: HELL YEAH (At this time my adrenaline was pumping beyond belief) JM: OK, READY, SET, ARCH ARCH ARCH ARCH ARCH AND WE WERE GONE!!!!! The feeling that a person has (at least I had) at the moment of exit, was pure terror, but after about a half of a second, it all became so clear to me. This was the ultimate RUSH! No drug, no amusement park ride, no nothing can describe this. Suddenly we were flying at 120mph toward the ground. I was amazed by the sights....... I could see for miles all around.... and a couple miles straight down :o) The free fall lasted about 40 seconds because of the altitude that we jumped from. It DID NOT FEEL LIKE I WAS FALLING AT ALL. A very strange calm fell upon my mind and body. I don't even think that I said a word or any peep came from my mouth. Then at 5,500 feet, I got the signal to pull the ripcord. I didn't hesitate for even a millisecond. I grabbed the cord with my right hand and gave a yank. OOPS, as my arm swung outward, I let go of the ripcord, and it probably landed on some cow in one of the fields below...... Oh well, stuff happens. The canopy deployed and finally our free fall was over..... And the real work was just about to begin. When the chute finally opened to full capacity, there I was, flying like a bird. The silence was so loud. Not a thing could be heard. The JM and I were able to talk normally, no shouting or anything. Just like a normal conversation. That's pretty cool. We then did some turns, and practiced our 'flare' maneuver. That's what you do when you land. Then we hit a cloud..... I was so disoriented...... Couldn't tell which way was up or down or anything.... Then the JM asked me if I wanted to do something fun (like I already wasn't having fun?!?!?) I said HELL YEAH, and we started doing some really tight turns. At times, it felt as if I was upside down and every whicha way you can imagine.. Then we finally broke through the cloud. I could see the others flying around just like me. COOL. Well, we basically flew around and here we were, at 1000 feet. DAMN, THAT'S IT? IT'S OVER?!?!?! We got ready for our landing, and we did just that. We ended up sliding to a halt on the JM's butt. Better his than mine hahaha. Ok, Now I made some noise...... I screamed WOOOOHOOO YEAH!!!! All I can say is I've gotta do this again and again and again and again and on and on and on and on.... Well, I can see it now... No more computer upgrades (like I need it anyway), no more car audio (ditto), all because of this thing called skydiving.... After doing this, I must ask myself what is next?!?!?!?!?!? Is there anything else in life that is more awesome than this?

By Charlene Kerr:

First DZ: Pacific Skydivers

Jumping out of a plane was something that had simply never occurred to me. I never considered myself to be a thrill seeker and, after all, you had to be insane to do something like that. Well, I soon found that insanity isn't really the terrible thing we make it out to be. What started it all was a simple phone call. The call was from my brother who, after an evening out drinking with his buddies, informed me that he was taking me skydiving. It's possible I didn't take him completely seriously because I new he wasn't completely sober but, in any case, I agreed. If I had been given more than one day's warning, I probably would have backed out. During that day, I managed to take my lack of knowledge about the sport and twist it around enough to send my heart into palpitations. But, before I could fully convince myself that I was going to die, it was time to go. The drive to the airport where the drop zone is located took about 20 minutes and, the closer we got, the more excitement I felt build up in my stomach (although, that may have been nausea). It was a clear summer day and a light breeze kept the heat at a comfortable level. There was a fairly constant sound of planes taking off and landing and, once in a while, a light smell of grease from the hangers would blow by in the wind. Two hawks flew over the tall grass in the nearby fields, occasionally dipping and bobbing in search of lunch. It was an ideal day to try an extraordinary thing. During our six hours of training, I went from feelings of "Wow, I can do this!" -- after practicing the exit and landing -- to feelings of "I am going to die!" -- after seeing a video of everything that could go wrong. Once we were taught how to correct the things that could go wrong, I was able to focus on the jump and began to feel, again, that I could do it and live. I repeated every detail of the jump in my mind until I was sure I knew each move. And, every time I ran through it, I felt a little more at ease. During a break, I noticed a guy in my class who was sitting on a chair and staring out into the fields. As I walked closer to him, I saw that his face was pale (bordering on green) and, small beads of sweat were trickling down his forehead. I asked if he wanted to practice the climb-out with me and, he just looked up with a dazed expression and nodded his head. The fear in his eyes was astounding. As we walked out to the mock-up, I was glad I didn't have his thoughts running around in my mind. Once the training was over, we wrote and reviewed our tests and, then it was time to go. The Cessna would take only 4 students at a time and, I ended up being the last student in the last load. So, twice, I watched the plane take off, climb to 3000 feet, and drop one student at a time. Every canopy opened without problem and not one person came down without a huge grin on his face; most came down with their voices hoarse from hooting and hollering. After what seemed like forever, it was time for the last group to gear up. Waiting for us at the end of the runway was a Cessna 182. I had never been in a small plane before and thought I should probably find it alarming the way it rattled and bumped along the runway. Strangely, I didn't. I also didn't notice the exact moment the wheels left the ground but, soon the farmhouses began to shrink into the landscape. We were flying over an area that I knew every inch of from the ground but, I had never seen it like this. We reached altitude and, it was time for the first student to leave. The cabin had become stuffy and hot but, the moment the door opened, it was filled with a strong, cool wind. Briefly startled out of my calmness, I decided I would be perfectly content to hang on to the wall for dear life until it was time for me to move. When all the other students had left, the plane circled one last time and, I moved into position by the door. There, I looked at my instructor who was grinning from ear to ear and said to him, "You know, I'm going to do this again!". He nodded. I don't think that he heard me over the engine and that he only nodded to assure me everything would go well. At that point, I was already sure that what I was about to do would be wonderful. My instructor gave a big smile and yelled "Door", and the door sprung open. I tried to put my foot on the step but, for some strange reason, it kept falling behind. Oh yeah. wind. lots of it. Once I got used to the wind, my climb-out went smoothly and, I soon found myself hanging from the strut of the plane, waiting for the signal from my instructor. When he said "Go", I let my  fingers relax and felt the strut move away from under them. It was overwhelming. No ground. No plane. There I was, touching nothing. I felt a pull at my shoulders; the canopy opening, sitting me upright. When I looked up, there was a beautiful parachute above me and, when I looked around, I was awestruck. Noises from the earth below couldn't reach me; only the sound of the canopy gliding through the air and the occasional sound of my own voice whispering "Wow. . .Oh my God. . .Wow!". It was just me up there. I wasn't standing on, hanging from, or riding in anything. I wasn't attached to any machine that was permitting me to experience this. It was me, the canopy, and gravity, all working with each other to experience flight. I was guided to the landing area by radio and was far too amazed at the feat I had accomplished to actually stand up on landing. It was a soft landing, nonetheless, and I hardly noticed my legs turning to Jell-O as they touched the ground. What I did notice was the tremendous disappointment I felt to be on the ground again so soon. My wonderful journey was over. As we all sat around a picnic table to discuss our jumps, I realized it would be insane not to go back and experience that again. Within four months of my first jump, I went through the student program, got my 'A' license and bought my own gear. To this day, I still get that excited feeling in my stomach when I drive out to the drop zone (and, as it turns out, it's not nausea). Skydiving has become such a major part of my life that I can't even remember what I used to do for fun. Any non-skydiving activity that I do is either something that pays for skydiving, something that relates to skydiving, or something that I only do when the weather is too poor to skydive. It's a consuming addiction and, the withdrawal symptoms are some of the strangest you could imagine. A few weeks ago, I walked by an elevator that was being repaired and it smelled like grease.  It was that same smell of grease that sometimes wafts over from the nearby hangers at the drop zone. I used to find that smell disgusting but, that day I stopped, took a deep breath, and wanted desperately to be in a plane 12,000 feet above the earth, waiting for someone to yell "Door". You see, it's winter now and I think, if I don't get to jump soon, I'm going to snap. As I look outside at the rain and wind, I only hope that the clouds will break enough to give even a glimpse of blue; just a glimmer of hope for what's to come when spring and summer arrive. Although my views on insanity are permanently altered, I still don't consider myself a thrill-seeker. I think I've just discovered life.

By Skip Smith:

I was in Las Vegas for my wife and father-in-law's birthdays....strange thing, they were born on the same day. My wife and I were looking for something to do, and were browsing the brochures.  Since we had done pretty well the night before ( winning $300 in three pulls of a slot machine), we were looking at fairly high-end entertainment.  Debbie wanted to go on the helicopter tour of the grand canyon, and that did sound like a lot of fun.  then it caught my eye.  All it said was SKYDIVE!!!"  It was an unassuming pamphlet, but it changed my life. I had been thinking about jumping for a couple years, and a friend of mine and I had actually looked into it, going as far as getting the brochures together, but when it came down to it, he wasn't ready to go, and I didn't want to go alone.  I wasn't going to let that get in my way this time. "Come on, Deb!  Let's give it a try!" "No...  I don't think so, honey" "Awww...  Come on.  You'll LOVE it!!!" "No... But if you want to go, you can...." She's regretted that moment for the past 2 years. I drove out to the airport at Boulder City by myself.  It was probably only about 30 minutes, but it seemed like it took days.  I was giddy at the prospect, but I was kind of afraid.  I had all the usual whuffo questions..." What if the parachute doesn't open?"  "What if the reserve doesn't open?"  "Do you really go back UP like that when the parachute comes out?" I can say that the guys there were great.  I'd have to get the tape out, but I think the cameraman went by "Z" and the TM was "Jim"   They answered all my whuffo questions with straight faces, and never let on that I was an idiot.  As to the "What if the reserve doesn't open", I got the only real answer.  "We both die".  While it didn't do a lot for my confidence, it did tell me that even though this guy had done this 2000 times, he could die this time.  Then I thought, "Something that is worth this kind of risk must be an awful lot of fun". We went through the training, and I watched "the bearded one" tell me all about the hazards and dangers.  I was shown how to arch, sit in the plane, and get out.  Next thing I know, they tell me to re-tie my shoes so I don't have to drive home barefoot.  I'm a good do-bee, so I'm going along with all of it.  We get in the plane, and they say this is your last chance to say no.  I thought about it for a long five seconds, and said, "let's roll".  Although I was sacred, I never looked back. the climb to altitude was uneventful, although I had no idea that you could fit that many people in a Cessna.  I kept looking out of the window.  I love to fly, and this was everything I had hoped it would be.  How naive I was.  30 minutes later, as we got up to altitude and the TM hooked up to me, the reality of what I was about to do really sunk in, and you can see it on the video.  I look like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi.  But I had had my chance to bail, and I was NOT turning back now. The camera man climbs out, and I was immediately struck by the wind..."How the hell does he hang on out there...  and what if he fell off??!" Like I said...  I was really naive. At this point, I'm just following directions.  I'm completely out of my league, and I know it.  My mind is blank, and I'm staring into the abyss, and I get the feeling it's staring at me.  The TM gives me the Thumbs up, and I give the count... READY, SET, HOLY SHIT....  What the fuck did I just do??!!?  I just jumped out of a plane!!! Adrenaline slammed into my head like a freight train. I became clear headed, and was looking around.  God...  what an unbelievable feeling.  I was right, it was worth the risk.  I was totally unafraid.  then the parachute came out.  I looked up, and it looked ok to me, and the TM concurred.  then I looked down.  I didn't realize what 5,000 feet above the desert floor would look like.  I was scared.  I felt like I was going to fall right out of the harness.  but it was so tight that my legs were tingling.  He asked if I wanted to loosen them up.  No way.  He was probably laughing his ass off about me, just like I do about the questions I hear whuffos asking.  But it's got to be a good feeling to de-whuffo so many people. we spiraled to the ground, and had a nice landing.  he unhooked me, and I did the obligatory jumping around and whooping and hollering.  we gathered up the parachute and got in the van to go back to the airport. I was twitching and shaking form the excitement.  I couldn't imagine why I had ever done drugs.  This was so much better, it didn't even compare.  The hook was set deep, and I was never going to be the same person again.

By  Matt Mucker:

First Jump DZ:  Skydive Dallas

Yes folks, I went skydiving today. For some reason, at the time, jumping out of a perfectly good airplane did not sound like an unreasonable thing to do. So I called Skydive Dallas and set up a Level I Accelerated Freefall dive. I spent a day in class, and at the end of the day, jumped out of an airplane. Did I like it? In a word, no. You can read the long version of the story (below) that I sent to a few friends. (It is rather humorous.) Will I do it again? Probably. Now that I know a little about what to expect, I'll give myself another chance to determine if I like it or not. [the letter] Ladies and gentlemen (and you too, Aaron), Last night I accomplished one of my long-time goals. I jumped out of a perfectly good airplane. Now, why one would voluntarily do this is beyond me. Why I myself decided to do this is a total mystery. But, it has been something that I've wanted to do for a long time. It was even on my "List of things to do in 1998." And yesterday, I did it. I decided about 4:00 on Friday afternoon to make the arrangements. I called Skydive Dallas and told them that I wanted to jump out of an airplane for the first time. I was asked if I wanted to do a tandem jump (strapped to an instructor) or an Accelerated Free Fall dive (on my own, pulling my own ripcord). Not believing in doing things halfway, I elected, of course, for the AFF dive. Luckily, there was still one spot available in the class starting the next day. I woke up at oh-dark-thirty, showered, and drove myself the hour and a half it took to get to the school by 8:30. I filled out a form in which I essentially said that if I ended up a bloody mass of pulp, it was nobody's damn fault but my own. I should have taken this as a warning. Class began about 9:00 AM, and the seven of us learned how to jump out of an
airplane, perform some basic maneuvers, and land safely. By 4:00, we were all ready to jump. The school scheduled us on planes, and paired us up with instructors. I was on Caravan load 22. (The plane was a Cessna Caravan; I was on the 22nd flight of the day.) When they called loading call for Caravan load 20, I went to the school and met one of the two instructors who would be jumping with me. He got me on a training device and made sure that I had learned what I was supposed to. I left my driver's license with the school in exchange for a nylon jump suit, a helmet, goggles, an altimeter, and a parachute rig. I geared up, and an instructor inspected my gear. I walked outside with one of my instructors and we rehearsed the dive on the ground. We relaxed for a while, and waited for the plane to arrive. The Cessna pulled up, and we hopped in. There were about ten of us in the plane, sitting in two rows of people on the floor. Each of us was sitting between the legs of the person behind us. Of importance to me, I was in the plane along with the instructor who would be on my left during the dive (Dave), the instructor who would be on my right during the dive (also Dave), and the cameraman I hired to shoot video on the way down (coincidentally, also named Dave). The plane took off. I had heard other divers tell me that they started getting nervous on the plane ride up. I was pleasantly surprised that I was not at all nervous. I was talking and joking around with the others on the plane, and played up an 'interview' on the video camera. I watched the altimeter on my left wrist and noted our height. Suddenly, someone shouted "Green Light!" and the jump door was flung open. A group of three divers got into the door, grabbed each other for the maneuvers they were going to perform, and on the count of three, left the plane together. Dave had me on my feet by now. He turned to me and shouted, "Matthew, are you ready to skydive?" This was a formal part of the dive. It wasn't a joke. It was also my last opportunity to return to sanity. Unfortunately, I shouted back "Let's do it!" I climbed into the airplane door as I had been instructed. One of the instructors was already halfway outside the airplane, gripping the left side of my harness. The other Dave was inside the airplane with a grip on my right. As my face entered the slipstream off the wing of the airplane, I was hit by a reality check about as subtle as the bombing of Hiroshima. Here I was, thirteen thousand five hundred feet above the ground, and there wasn't a damned thing underneath me. What the hell was I thinking? Well, there's no turning back now. I started my dive. I looked into the aircraft and made eye contact with the instructor on my right. "CHECK IN!" I shouted. "OKAY!" was the reply. I faced over my left shoulder and shouted to the other instructor. "CHECK OUT!" "OKAY!" I faced the front of the airplane, took a deep breath, and did what I was instructed to. Through body movements and verbal shouts (at least, I think I shouted. I was supposed to, I really don't know if I did), I counted off.  "Prop!...UP!...DOWN!...." and stepped into nothingness. Now, as big as my ego is, I will nevertheless admit to all of you that what I felt now was nothing short of terror. I wasn't nervous; I was petrified. This was insane! I was plummeting toward earth, and for the first time ever discovered the meaning of the word "plummet." Nine-point-eight-one-meters-per-second-squared had a whole new reality for me. I was terribly unstable as I left the plane, and that scared me more. After an eternity of what was probably four seconds, the three of us were in what some might call a potentially stable attitude. Oh yes-- and we were still plummeting. And I was still scared out of my wits. And I was still thinking I had made a most terrible mistake. Despite the overwhelming fear, I knew I had a job to do. I did my first "Circle of Awareness." I checked in front of me. I read the altitude off the altimeter strapped to my left wrist. I did a "check left" by looking under my left arm and making eye contact with my instructor. I got a nod. I then did a "check right" and got a similar nod. Still just shy of panic, I did three practice ripcord touches. I flubbed the first one, but was alert enough to recognize that and remember to "look... touch... recover" on the next two. In all three cases, my hand patted the ripcord on my right hip. I then did a second circle of awareness. This time, my "check right" instructor gave me a thumbs-down hand signal, telling me to arch my back (thrust my hips down) further. I corrected as he told me to, but forgot to wait for a thumbs-up okay signal. I checked my altimeter. Nine thousand feet. NINE THOUSAND feet? I was much higher than I had expected to be. Did I miss something? Did I rush my maneuvers? I didn't think so; I did everything I was supposed to, didn't I? Oh well, nothing much I can do about it now if I didn't. I looked up and saw Camera Dave a few feet in front of me. He gave me a big, broad smile, prompting me to smile for the camera. I became aware of the wind whipping up at me and realized that my lips and cheeks were probably distorted into a most unappealing grimace. I forced a smile. It must have been the most fake smile I've ever smiled. I didn't feel like smiling. I felt terrified. I checked my altimeter. Plenty of time left. I waved to the camera and gave what I am quite sure was an altogether unconvincing thumbs-up. I was still numb with fear. I kept alternating my attention between the camera and my altimeter. A little bit above five thousand feet, I gave my wave-off: I waved my hands twice to indicate I was about to pull my rip cord. I looked, reached, and grabbed it. With a firm yank, I was again in my arch position with the rip cord in my right hand. Nothing happened. Hmmmmm..... Oh yeah! I looked at the parachute over my right shoulder, rotating my body slightly as I was taught. I saw the pilot chute whip out of my field of vision, caught in the turbulence caused by my body roll. I began to roll to the left to look over my left shoulder when I was violently yanked into a  vertical position. I looked up at the canopy above my head. It was square. It was stable. Those are two of the three checks I had to do. Now I had to make sure it was steer able. Realizing that I now had all the time in the world, I casually unzipped my jumpsuit, stuffed the ripcord in there, and zipped back up. This would save me both twenty five dollars and the shame of returning to earth without a ripcord. This isn't to say I wasn't still frightened. I was still a long way up with nothing but a long drop underneath me. I looked up and found the two toggles on my parachute. I put my fingers through the handles and peeled them off the Velcro holding them to the risers on the harness. I pulled them both all the way down to release the brakes. I then started a left turn by lowering the left toggle and leaving the right above my head. I started a slow turn to the left. I turned through a full 360 degrees, looking for (and not finding) the landing zone. No problem; I've got plenty of time. I then did a full turn to the right. I began to get nervous that I could not locate the landing zone. There were fields out to the horizon in every direction, so there was no doubt I could land safely. Finally, I found the DZ directly between my feet. I puttered around in a "holding zone" until my instructor's voice came over the radio. "Matt, if you can hear me, kick your legs." Despite the temptation to turn the damn thing off and do this entirely alone, I kicked my legs. Just as I was thinking it was time to turn on my downwind leg, my instructor told me, over the radio, to turn into the wind. My downwind leg carried me over the runway. We had been advised to avoid the runway, but I saw the plane landing beneath me. Since I was on the last load of the day, I knew that was one hazard I didn't need to worry about. We were also advised not to go past the hangar. However, I was still a little high for this leg of my landing, and even if my instructor hadn't told me to make a long down wind leg, I probably would have on my own. I started a base leg that took me right over the hangar, and turned into my final approach. I passed the windsock about 5 feet above it. Start my flare in ten feet. Okay, about now. I started pulling on the toggles to slow my forward speed. As I did so, my instructor told me to flare to "position one." I flared out, feet together, and landed. I slipped, took a few steps, but landed on my feet. I turned around and gathered my parachute behind me so it wouldn't fill with air from the wind. The cameraman ran over and interviewed me. I put on a short show for the camera, and we headed for the hangar. I turned in my gear and headed for the nearest cooler full of beer. After that, we did a debriefing on the jump. My instructors were much more pleased with my jump than I was. They signed me off for Level II and asked if I would be back. I don't know if I'll ever skydive again. I was truly frightened out there. I am glad I did it. It was an accomplishment for me. But, honestly, I did not enjoy the dive at all. Maybe I'll give it another chance. Maybe I won't. But last night, I put a big ol'  checkmark next to a line on a sheet of paper that reads "jump out of a perfectly good airplane."

By:  Kristen Crupi

First Jump DZ: Snohomish Parachute Center

    I was in the middle of a divorce and really needed a break from my routine. I had always wanted to jump so when the email came around at work looking to de-whuffoize a group, I signed up. Several of my friends were jumping - this seemed like the perfect opportunity! The day of our FJC arrived and I was down with a nasty cold. Sudafed did nothing. With a heavy heart, I called the drop zone at 7am. As I listened to the answering machine message, I decided to reschedule rather than cancel (not knowing that they probably wouldn't have let me cancel anyway :). I re-scheduled for the following Saturday. The directions to the DZ were vague. I had just decided to stop for directions when I I noticed the worn skydiving bumper sticker on the sleek little car in front of me. I followed this jumper to the airfield, right to the parachute center. The little car had barely stopped moving when the driver hopped out and pointed at me. Her gestures said "You! Park *over there*!!". I was early to class, latte in hand. I sat alone in the back row. When the instructor walked in, I smiled to myself. It was none other than my escort to the DZ! I was not the least bit nervous, just very interested. I listened diligently, laughed at the instructor's morbid jokes, and memorized the
appearance of and appropriate responses to each type of malfunction. During the lunch break, I chatted with several classmates, mildly amused by their anxiety levels. <Skip the boredom of waiting for my load> Finally, the time had come. I was toting around 30 pounds of gear, still wondering why everyone was so nervous. As jumper number 2, I climbed into the back of the 182. On the way up, there was nothing to do but think. Suddenly, it occurred to me that I had never asked my body (or mind) to do anything so radical before. I had no idea how I was going to respond once my turn came up. There it was! I had found my fear!! As quickly as I found it, I conquered it. An overwhelming sense of calm washed over me. I was determined to do this. It would be ok or it would be disastrous. Either way, I was going to get out of that plane. It was my turn. I sat in the door, surprised at how strong the wind was. I grabbed the strut and pulled myself out. Hanging was easier than I expected. I looked at the JM and got my signal. I looked up and let go. Freedom!! I don't remember the next 4 seconds. I was thinking Arch! but the pictures show that I wasn't. Soon, there was sky blue nylon above me. As I reached for the toggles, I was greeted by ground control. The rest of the ride was
uneventful... pretty views since I got out at 5k. I surprised myself and the pit boss with my first post-jump words "How do I buy my next jump?"

By:  Keith McGill

 I finally jumped out of an airplane.  It was so cool.  I surprised myself at how calm I was in freefall. I got to the drop zone about  half hour early on Saturday.  I filled out the paperwork and watched their disclaimer video.  As I was signing the credit card receipt the woman helping me, turned around and asked what load I would be on. The guy said "This one".  She said "Oh you lucked out.  They're loading in 5 minutes"  5 MINUTES ???  Whooooly cow!!! It turned out to be a good thing.  I didn't have time to get scared and wonder what on earth I was thinking.  I get dizzy looking over a balcony on the third floor and here I am, going to jump out of a plane at 12,000 feet.  I went over and put on the jump suit I was given.  My harness was strapped on, my frap hat  (a leather hat that would do nothing more than contain my brain matter should I plummet to the ground) was strapped on my head, my altimeter was strapped to my wrist, and we were off to the plane.  I got my instruction as we were walking to the plane.  I thought this can't be good.  Shouldn't I be getting more training than a couple of words before the flight.  But as it turned out, it was OK. I was given the meaning of a few hand signals I would be given during the dive. I was told two thumbs up shortly after exiting the plane would mean we were doing fine in freefall.  I was told a tap on the right thigh would mean I needed to arch more, and a wave of a hand in front of my face would mean it was time to pull the rip cord.  In the plane on the way to altitude, I was given more instruction on how to exit the plane: what body position to be in, in preparation for exiting, to keep my eyes on the wing as we were positioned to exit the plane but most importantly, how to safely hurl myself out of the plane in unison with the guy strapped to my back. On our way to altitude my instructor, Armond kept reviewing, with me, all of the things I had learned.  What the hand signals meant, what body position I should be in for exit, and he kept saying "Remember to thrust your hips on exit".  This allows for a proper arch during freefall.  In between impromptu quizzes I was getting nervous.  I was having a hard time breathing, so I kept taking long, slow, deep breaths while fighting the urge to look out the window at all of the tiny little objects on the ground that I would soon be plummeting towards. Armond kept asking me how I was doing and I kept lying and saying "I'm doing fine". Some of my anxiety was released while one of the other tandem instructors was telling me and Armond that he had a bet going with his student.  If the instructor could make his student puke while doing spins, turns, and other tricks during freefall then the student would have to buy him lunch and if the student didn't puke then the instructor had to buy lunch.  It was another first time tandem students birthday so we all sang happy birthday to him.  One of the other divers gave me a high-five.  I was now feeling more calm and decided it was going to be OK. I looked around at the other passengers and . . . Oh God, Oh God, Oh God . . . half of them were missing.  I knew some of the divers were exiting the plane but for some reason it struck me; these people are actually jumping out of the plane.  What are they? Nuts?  Wait a minute!  Am I Nuts?  Just then Armond motions that it is our turn.  So I start thinking, "Keith don't think about what you are doing, just do what you were told to do.  Otherwise it's time for clean boxer shorts".  We start scooting to the hole in the side of the plane they call a door, I crouch down on my feet in the fetal position with my arms crossing my chest like I was told, I keep looking up at the wing, then I get the command, ONE . . . TWO . . . TREE . . . THRUST.   Out of the plane we went. As soon as we exited I suddenly felt this calm come over me. Armond kept telling me not to look down, he would say "There's nothing down there but ground".  But I couldn't help it, I found myself marveling at the birds eye view, the rolling hills now brown from a lack of rain that two months ago were
unusually green, the dirt roads made by off road enthusiasts, the buildings that just minutes ago I was afraid to look at.  Hearing the rush of the wind passing through my hat into my ears and feeling the cool, crisp, fresh air being forced into my lungs as we fell at 120 miles an hour.  I wanted to keep falling and soaking in all of the new sensations I was witnessing for the first time.  But all good things must come to an end.  With the wave of a hand in front of my face and a tug of the rip cord, we were under canopy.  We did some high speed turns that brought us, what felt to be, almost horizontal with the canopy.  I know we weren't but that is how it felt.  Arnond asked me if it was "OK" to be making such aggressive maneuvers on my first canopy ride and I told him it was fine and strangely enough it was.  I was given control of the canopy for a while, I did some turns left, some turns right and then gave control back to my instructor so we could land.  I was amazed.  The only time I felt scared, after exiting, was when I was in control of the canopy. When we landed I knew I was hooked.  If I could have afforded it I would have done another dive the same day.

By:  Chris

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