Earlier this summer, I agreed to go skydiving with my friend Chris. Yesterday, we finally took the jump.

Mile-Hi Skydiving is only about 20 minutes from where my parents live, and accept walk-ins. We showed up, signed away our lives and after a wait (after all, we didn’t make reservations), we were introduced to the instructors we’d be strapped to. I can’t speak for Chris, but the guy helping me out, Dave, was disconcertingly quiet when getting set up. He handed me a suit, and helped me put on a harness that loops around each leg, the torso and finally straps over the shoulders.

After a short wait, a truck with a flatbed trailer drove up, and about 12 people hopped on. There were two other people in our group making a tandem dive, as well as a few others making solo jumps (including one guy wearing a squirrel suit). We drive up to a plane whose propeller is roaring making it difficult to hear the guy next to you, and are packed into two benches facing each other. At this point the reality of the situation really began to hit me, and was compounded by the fact that the guy I would tumble to the ground with hadn’t yet told me anything that would be happening!

We were cleared for takeoff and began to climb. A few more experienced guys at the back held the door open for a while during our ascent, and it was relatively unsettling to see an open door on a plane like that. Eventually Dave told me to sit on his lap and he began hooking my harness to him and his parachute and tightening straps. “When we go out, don’t jump – I’m going to push you. Hold on here, and tuck your legs back and I’ll let you know when you can let go.” At this point, the solo jumpers were beginning to hop out. Dave hands me goggles and we move towards the door, and before I realize it, we’re tumbling out of a plane.

Instantly the speed of wind rushing past registers, thick as soup. Trying to concentrate, I remember to tuck my legs back and Dave locks legs to position us correctly, turning us ever so often to admire the view. It really was akin to zooming in on Google Earth, except for the attenuation of light from the distance, and the freezing air flapping violently at you. From Longmont’s Vance Brand Airport, we could see Boulder and Longmont laid out in front of us. I had expected that during freefall I would feel the same feeling in my stomach as when an airplane experiences turbulence, or an elevator sometimes jolts. The feeling of gravity giving out, and the instinct to grab onto something. Though, after the first few seconds (during which we were tumbling) there was nothing of the sort.

After about a minute, I felt Dave reach for something and I figure it’s him deploying the parachute. For a split second I wondered what to anticipate, and then I felt a strong tug upwards and suddenly we were upright. He adjusted my straps for this position, which felt a bit like being unharnessed. I took on a sitting position in the harness and enjoyed the view when Dave began, “let’s talk about the landing.”

It was another couple of minutes before we finally touched down, and it was all a bit too much to take in during one jump. On the flight up, I was certain that I would never try this a second time, but now, I have a feeling it won’t be the last time I jump out of a perfectly good airplane.

I highly recommend the experience to anyone and everyone. Especially as some have recently been suggesting that experiences are more enjoyed than possessions.