Yesterday I jumped out of a plane 2 miles above the earth and landed on my ass. I did so without unfortunate consequences such as shitting myself miles above Earth and having to drift gently down with the knowledge that I shit myself in mid-air, or perhaps dying horribly at Earth-level, having known I shit myself on the way down.
All in all, a successful day.
Success or not, though, there are some things I wish I’d done before I went skydiving.
I Wish I Had Not Worn My Hair In A Bun To Reduce Wang Resemblance
I have an unfortunate bang situation going on right now (and for the last several decades) that renders my hair to be disagreeable. I can’t leave it down because that shit will swoop up into the sky like it’s reaching back in time for the 80′s. I can’t pull it back into a ponytail because that shit will straighten out over one eye like a white-trash side-bang so fast it’ll knock your sister’s baby up behind the Stuckey’s. This has resulted in exactly one hairstyle I can wear, which is two low buns in the back of my head. It’s cute, it’s fast, and I can do it wet (LIKE A HIGH SCHOOL GIRL. I’m sorry.)
This is all fine and good until they strapped my ass into a helmet, which would not fit over the buns. I tried, initially, to take them out, but the “putting wet hair in a bun” thing doesn’t translate well into a pulled-loose style. With the buns, my helmet made me look like an aggressive blue dildo with too many controls. Without the buns, my helmet made me look like a horribly deformed jellyfish–strands leaking everywhere in a less-curly more-kinked manner, frizzing uncontrollably–and yet still shaped like a dick. I chose to leave the buns on because I’m a superficial bastard–I could handle looking like a wiener as long as the frizz was managed.
Next time, I’ll pay someone to do cornrows. If I’m making one bad decision by skydiving, I might as well make the biggest bad decision–white girl cornrows.
I Wish I Had Popped My Ears Before Turning My Skydive Into A Helen Keller Experience
Altitude, y’all. I have always had a hard time popping my ears at any altitude. Scuba diving was tough for me. Riding a ski lift is tough for me. I have tiny baby weakling eardrums that can’t handle rapid pressure changes–and this is a fact about myself that I promptly forgot until I was tits-down to the ground.
The first 2 seconds out of the plane were sheer joy, because you are fucking whizzing through the air like Criss Angel’s wet dream. It is magical beyond words to zip around across the landscape of your hometown, proving to all pigeons forever that you are superior.
At the 3-second mark, my ears fucking exploded. Within the span of just ONE second, my ears built pressure faster than I’ve ever felt and before I could pop it, they decided just to rip themselves loose of my body. I swear to God I heard them deflate like a helium balloon untied itself in my brain. After that horror-fest, I was satisfied with just no longer being in pain and enjoyed the rest of my freefall. It wasn’t until I pulled the ripcord and began to drift slowly down that I realized the sound had all gone away. I tried not to panic and forced away thoughts about how I’d have to learn ASL and how weird a story of deafness it would be to explain to others, and gently floated to the ground unable to hear a goddamn thing.
Next time, I’ll pop my ears before I exit the plane. If I get my hearing back. If I don’t, then, you know, bottoms up!
I Wish I Had A Better Breakfast Than Poor Man’s Meth
I have a tiny bit of an anxiety problem when I try new things–not because I’ll be facing imminent death on these adventures, but because I know there will be crowds of people around that I immediately feel I have to fight. Because of this, I don’t eat a lot beforehand so I won’t feel sick. This was a grave mistake before skydiving.
My allergies have flared up lately, so I took some Sudafed on my way out the door and grabbed a handful of blue Jolly Ranchers to calm my stomach because taking Sudafed on an empty stomach is a fucking horrible idea, but putting sugar on top of Sudafed was apparently not that bad of an idea.
A much worse idea is letting Sudafed and a pound and a half of sugar (Poor Man’s Meth) be the only thing you have in your stomach as you’re scooting to the edge of an open door to go 120 MPH towards the ground. My stomach couldn’t decide if it wanted to catch on fire from all the stimulation or just bottom the fuck out and paint the sky with a terrible rainbow of bad decisions as I tumbled away. Luckily, the strap across my stomach made that decision for me as my instructor whipped me forward–the strap suddenly tightened and forced out the most unholy burp right in the face of the terrified woman about the bail behind me. Super sorry about that.
Next time, I’ll just snort a shitload of coke instead. It would be less stimulating and panic-inducing.
I Wish I Had Taken A Breath
In my entire 15-minute training course, there was nothing they wanted us to remember more than to take a breath as you fall away. I am a woman of procedures, so I talked myself through the process a billion times before we even got in the plane. Cross arms-head back-breath-fall. No big.
This planning was, of course, all before my Meth stomach revolted. As we fell out of the plane, the pressure that caused my ears to explode soon after also compressed my lungs and made it near impossible to take a breath. I felt like I was drowning 12,000 feet in the air–ears shot to hell, can’t take a breath, can’t move my arms and legs. To be fair to the situation, at least I was drowning in fantastic scenery.
The mid-air drowning combined with the wind whipping my cheeks into a hilarious wave-motion that you can feel happening to you and are unable to stop, I started laughing. Really really hard Church-laughs that made a shitload of noise and caused me to shake about. All of my bad decisions had led to this moment, and I couldn’t help myself–I looked ridiculous.
What I saw was incredible scenery, and a great adrenaline rush–minus the deafness, a pretty fun day.
What the people on the ground saw was a giant blue dildo spinning to the ground, clutching both ears and gulping air in between too-loud laughs because I could no longer manage the correct volume of my own voice.
I looked so fucking magical you guys.
Regardless of everything I’ve written, skydiving is fucking amazing and you should go. Have you been? How was it? If not, do you want to?– Favorite Comment From The Last Post: From Jillian: “What do they do to stay so sharp? Water aerobics? Shredded wheat? Speed? Whatever it is, I want it.”