Jumpsuit: check.
Harness: check.
Ridiculous looking hat: check.
Goggles: check.
Gloves: check.
Insides: left in the cafeteria (along with my coffee).
We scrambled into the aircraft. It was just big enough for the five of us. The fact that the inside of the aircraft looked rickety and deteriorated somehow felt unpretentious and welcoming. I observed the flapping duct tape on the side of the aircraft evidently not executing its function, and the slightly rusty screws on the bottom of the aircraft where we were sat, and struggled to comprehend my situation. The gleaming red sign bearing the words ‘Skydive Southcoast’ reprimanded me for wasting precious time and I attempted to fix in my mind my exact feelings and thoughts. I remember of this moment the wind a polite force, causing the red sheet above my head to flutter into my eye line (evidently more bad duct taping). I was numb to all of this.
Take off. We soared through the sky in our modest aircraft, the charming sound of the engine loud enough that we were forced to shout over it. The photographer was doing his thing and I posed for a shot, but this was just part of the surroundings to me. I was staring out of the window at the sunlight breaking through the layer of clouds and all I could see was Nick. It was beginning to get colder and colder. We looked high enough to jump, so I peered at the altitude gauge on my instructor’s wrist; we were only 5000 feet up. The higher we got, the more spritual the air felt. We cut through the sacred stillness; reckless, metaphysical.
There was a growing wildness in the air; the excitement was almost unbearable. The moment came. We shuffled forward. I clutched the sides of the aircraft as I was hung face-first out, terrified that if I let go I would plummet to the ground alone. A hand tapped my arm and I crossed it against my chest. I was surveying the world, musing over how absurd an idea it would be to abandon the faithful contraption that had brought me to enchantment in favour, for some unknown reason, of falling back down to earth. Another tap on my shoulder…“Let’s go”.
Freefall.
120 miles an hour for 30 seconds. Those 30 seconds were the shortest and most incredible 30 seconds of my life. They passed in a blur of shock and amazement. All too soon the parachute opened and we were jerked forcefully upwards.
Pure stillness. We were suspended in time. I savoured the humbling view as my senses began to return.
The three of us floated through the silence for eternity.
An amazing experience, befitting for the memory of an amazing man. :)
Harness: check.
Ridiculous looking hat: check.
Goggles: check.
Gloves: check.
Insides: left in the cafeteria (along with my coffee).
We scrambled into the aircraft. It was just big enough for the five of us. The fact that the inside of the aircraft looked rickety and deteriorated somehow felt unpretentious and welcoming. I observed the flapping duct tape on the side of the aircraft evidently not executing its function, and the slightly rusty screws on the bottom of the aircraft where we were sat, and struggled to comprehend my situation. The gleaming red sign bearing the words ‘Skydive Southcoast’ reprimanded me for wasting precious time and I attempted to fix in my mind my exact feelings and thoughts. I remember of this moment the wind a polite force, causing the red sheet above my head to flutter into my eye line (evidently more bad duct taping). I was numb to all of this.
Take off. We soared through the sky in our modest aircraft, the charming sound of the engine loud enough that we were forced to shout over it. The photographer was doing his thing and I posed for a shot, but this was just part of the surroundings to me. I was staring out of the window at the sunlight breaking through the layer of clouds and all I could see was Nick. It was beginning to get colder and colder. We looked high enough to jump, so I peered at the altitude gauge on my instructor’s wrist; we were only 5000 feet up. The higher we got, the more spritual the air felt. We cut through the sacred stillness; reckless, metaphysical.
There was a growing wildness in the air; the excitement was almost unbearable. The moment came. We shuffled forward. I clutched the sides of the aircraft as I was hung face-first out, terrified that if I let go I would plummet to the ground alone. A hand tapped my arm and I crossed it against my chest. I was surveying the world, musing over how absurd an idea it would be to abandon the faithful contraption that had brought me to enchantment in favour, for some unknown reason, of falling back down to earth. Another tap on my shoulder…“Let’s go”.
Freefall.
120 miles an hour for 30 seconds. Those 30 seconds were the shortest and most incredible 30 seconds of my life. They passed in a blur of shock and amazement. All too soon the parachute opened and we were jerked forcefully upwards.
Pure stillness. We were suspended in time. I savoured the humbling view as my senses began to return.
The three of us floated through the silence for eternity.
An amazing experience, befitting for the memory of an amazing man. :)
