The Time I Jumped Out of a Plane

I remember being very excited for this sport when I first entered it into my bucket list many years ago. I knew there was a static line course here in Malaysia but felt it wasn't thrilling enough as there was no free fall.

As I got older, this sport has become something I just want to cross off. Instead of excitement, it was a lot of nervousness going towards the jump. The course did not help with the nervousness because it showed us a lot of what could go wrong and how to handle it. Even though the probability of anything going wrong is quite minor, I still got quite nervous. I paid full attention.

On the day of jump, I only calmed down a bit as I donned on the parachute - something about having it on my back. What came after is a mixed a fear and excitement. I sat right next to the doorway with the door completely removed on the small Cessna as it climbed towards the target height of 3000 ft (Yes, they still use feet in skydiving. It's about 900 meters). I had no seat belt on. I only held onto a handle bar that had been re-fixed onto the plane with what seemed like duct tape. Every turn towards the right (the side where I am at) gave me a jolt of fright as I stared onto the ground.

The moment of the jump came, I was either blanked out or very focused because my heart was not pounding. I checked my static line once more. I struggled with the wind speed of 200 km/h (as I was told) as I exited the plane and onto the small platform above the wheel. I was ready. I faced my jump-master while waiting for his signal. "GO!", he shouted. I loosened my grip and hopped backwards. There I was, falling as I looked back at the plane and counted, one thousand, two thousands... The chute deployed. I looked up and it was still in the process of going into full deployment. The moment that it did, I screamed, "woo-hoo!" in excitement - I wondered if the heard me on the ground.

The atmosphere was silent and calming. The sky was beautiful and there was a cool breeze. It felt like I was flying in the air but there is nothing around me now - just me and the sky. As I looked down, I realized the reality was that I wasn't flying; I was still floating down but I enjoyed every moment, all the while following the guidance of my instructor on the ground through a radio strapped on my shoulder. Minutes later, touched down.

Filled with a surreal feeling. A feeling that I'd only felt once before. A feeling that kept me asking myself, "Did I just do that?" I am glad that I did. I'm excited once more with the sky. Height is somehow addictive. It wasn't enough. I need more free-fall time. I need more floating time. I will jump again probably but I'm not sure when as there are other sports involving the sky that I want to experience. Right now, I'm only sitting here while wondering, "which should be next?"