The First Jump

The First Jump

My first jump out of an airplane on December 17, 1999 was the most exciting experience of my life. I had been anticipating this day since some point when I was a little kid and saw a skydiver on TV for the first time, at which time I promised myself that I would let nothing stop me from jumping out of a plane sometime before I die.

It was the first time I had been in a small airplane since I was a young child. From shortly after I was born until I was seven years old, I had flown in my father's Cessna 150 countless times, so I have always felt comfortable flying in airplanes, but I always had a small fear of heights; the kind of heights where there is nothing around you to keep you from falling off.

The aircraft that we were to jump out of was a Cessna 182- a commonly used five-person, high-wing, single engine airplane. The interior of this particular plane was not much to speak of. All of the upholstery had been removed, as were all the seats (except for the pilot's seat, of course). That was okay though. This plane is used for skydiving, not first-class passenger transportation.

As we were climbing to 3,500 feet, I was experiencing the most exciting yet nervous point in my life. I had been looking forward to this day for a long time and there I was sitting in the back of that small aircraft, waiting to take the plunge of my life while nervously taking turns looking at the little needle on my wrist altimeter and glancing out the window, looking at everything on the ground getting smaller, anxiously reviewing the jump routine over and over in my head, “arch one-thousand, look one-thousand, reach one-thousand, pull one-thousand.” Since this was going to be a static-line jump, there was not a real ripcord to pull because the canopy would deploy automatically, but we were equipped with a dummy ripcord so that we would learn the proper free-fall technique.

At about three-thousand three-hundred feet, the jumpmaster hollered “one minute to jump,” and opened the cabin door. It was me and two other beginners on board, Jennifer and Susan. Since Jennifer was the first to go, she was already sitting by the door, facing aft of the aircraft. When the door flung open and the air came rushing in, Jennifer took a quick glance at the ground and her eyes grew huge.

At this time, I was going over the exit routine in my head. “Wait for the jumpmaster to give you the word, then reach out the door with your left hand and grab the diagonal wing-strut. Place your left foot on the landing gear. Pull yourself out of the cabin with your left hand while pivoting your left foot and bringing your right foot to the landing gear. Look back at the jumpmaster. When he yells ‘go out and hang’ you pull yourself to the pre-marked point on the upper part of the strut, let your feet hang, and look back at the jumpmaster. When he yells 'go!' you simply let go of the airplane and start the 'arc, look, reach, pull' routine.”

At three-thousand five-hundred feet, the jumpmaster looks at Jennifer and asks, "are you ready to jump?" She nods her head yes without saying anything.

"Are you ready to jump?" he asks again, waiting for an audible response.

"Yes," she responds.

"Put your feet out and stop," he yells.

She slowly reaches out and grabs the strut with her left hand while putting her left foot on the landing gear. She then reaches for the strut with her right hand but misses. She looses the grip she had with her left hand and falls. All of the thoughts that had been going through my head left and were replaced with "Sweet Jesus! Oh my god! She just fell sideways from the airplane."

I looked at the jumpmaster. He looked at the pilot. The pilot looks back. They both burst into hysterical laughter. Wow! Talk about relief on my part. This girl totally messed up her exit up and the two experts on board were rolling over laughing about it.

Now it's my turn.