elionwyr | Operation Freefall

My instructor tapped me on the leg and told me he was going to get up. I watched the videographer check his equipment. My instructor shuffled to a kneeling position; at one point he was pretty much in my lap. As someone with some fairly 'good' personal space issues, this was a little difficult, to be honest, but yeah, it was a little cramped and so this sort of thing was to be expected. I glanced at my altimeter..we were at just over 10,000 feet. I looked at where the rip cord was on his harness. I really wanted to be the one to pull the cord, to prove I could. To do so would mean remembering to watch our progress on the altimeter and to pull at around 5,000 feet. Though I'd been told that I wasn't expected to do this, I wanted to, so very much. I was determined. I could do this.

I was told to scootch up onto my knees and get in front of my instructor so he could connect our harnesses. He grabbed a strap on my left side and yelled, "Watch!" I had no idea what he wanted, and it was hard to maneuver around to really see what he was doing. I looked to my left, then to my right. "Watch!" he yelled and...my memory is that he cuffed me - it wasn't a tap, which is what we were told our instructors would do during freefall to get our attention because talking wouldn't be possible. There was no reason to touch me now. I got a little upset because (as many of you know) I'm generally eager to please, and I had no idea what he wanted me to do. This had not been covered in our training. "WATCH!" and another cuff..and he pulled on the buckle, so I figured out he wanted me to watch him connect that buckle to his harness. I still couldn't really see, but I reached back with my left hand and affirmed that it was correctly fastened.

"Is it on?"
"Yes."

This was repeated on the right side.

I move to put my goggles on. "NOT YET!" I think my hand may have been slapped down, but I could be misremembering this. When it was time - I think this was after he was sure his own checklist was completed - he did some sort of magic that made my goggles fit incredibly securely under my skullcap. It felt like a perfect seal..a little uncomfortable but so secure that it was easy to forget they weren't all one piece.

The videographer opened the plane door and took his position on the wing. I shuffled forward to get into position to step out myself, reaching forward to support myself on the door frame. (This sort of 'look for support' thing is my basic MO, as I am a klutz.) My instructor smacked my hand away...I understand, because I know he wanted things to go a certain way, but I don't like that he did this. I think we did this twice before I had shuffled forward enough to be able to grab the wing. And it's really weird to move like that, strapped so closely to someone else's body.

Stepping out was...cold. So cold. And exhilarating. I half-expected the wing to be slippery - all I remember is cold and beauty. Again, I wasn't nervous. I could think of no reason to not jump, and so releasing and falling into the air was a joyous sensation.

We tumbled through the air and I laughed - a huge roaring laugh. They tell you that you'll feel like you're not moving... I can't affirm that. We were upside down, we were tumbling, and then we weren't, and it was cold and I was wishing I'd worn socks, and it was surreal. Unreal. There was no way we were this far away from the ground.

My instructor maneuvered us into position, bellies facing the planet. And this is when I started having trouble. I literally had my breath taken away, which we'd been warned about (of course) and told that if we felt we couldn't breathe, to remember that (a) freefall only lasts a few seconds; (b) try breathing through your nose; (c) turn your head and breathe to the side. I completely forgot I even had a nose! *laugh*

I turned to the side, trying not to panic, taking a few breaths, turning forward again and immediately losing what air I'd pulled into my lungs. I tried to pull my legs up and keep my body curved - photos show that I didn't manage the curve very well. I completely forgot about the altimeter. I don't know if I was reminded about it - truth be told, I was so focused on my legs and on breathing that he probably could have beaten me with a crowbar and I wouldn't have noticed.

It's so loud, so so loud, and so cold.

I don't remember seeing the ground rushing towards us. I don't remember seeing the videographer. The next thing I do remember is the instructor pulling the rip cord and me squeaking as we were suddenly jerked back up towards the stars.

I gasped, breathing easier.

"I've had parapalegics do better in free fall than that!" my instructor yelled into my ear.

"I couldn't breathe!" I gasped.

"What?"

I turned my head so the wind would carry my words to him. "I couldn't breathe."

"Yes you could."

"I couldn't."

"You open your mouth and you breathe!"

Frustrated, I didn't reply.

"And your legs were all over the place. You're so short I couldn't catch them."

"I had them bent!" I said, thinking of how much I'd been aware of pulling them into a bent position, of how focused I'd been on that.

"No they weren't. Really, I've had parapalegics do better. Maybe this isn't for you."

Berated, I tried to tune him out. I looked down over the earth, unable to focus on where the airport was, amazed by the soft lifts that were the varied mountains. They looked like waves cresting over the land still so brown and empty, waiting to be filled by farmers' crops. I couldn't entirely appreciate the quiet because of my instructor (heh), but it *is* eerily quiet, and there's a sensation of not falling at all. I found it hard to believe we were up here, so high, and moving.

He pointed out the directions, the airport, the wide visibility. "We got lucky. You can see really far today." (Interestingly,

mewschangeling's instructor said pretty much the opposite. Her experience is recorded here. She's such a rock star!)

At some point, he did say that my body curve/arch was good and that I'd done very well with getting out of the plane and doing the actual jump. (Photos do show that my curve sucked major moose..my ass was often nowhere near where it should have been, so my hips weren't pushed forward enough. Which sorta makes sense..I was so focused on my legs that I forgot about my hips.)

I forget at which point he had me put my hands into the lower handle on the steering line, which looked a little like this but had three handholds instead of one. He had the top hold, and I was to take the bottom. Again I suppose not surprisingly, though it surprised me, it's not that easy to pull down on these straps, but you pull down on the side you want to turn towards, and you pull both straps down during landing. I was to help us turn to the...left, I think, but damn was it hard to pull! Which earned me some more berating.

And as we gently turned, I felt myself starting to feel sick. I did as we'd been instructed in the video, and I asked him to please not spin us, because I wasn't sure how much of what he was doing was necessary...we'd watched other jumps earlier where the parachutists had performed vaguely wild acrobatics. Though I have a lifetime history of motion sickness, I've never had the problem on planes, and so I hadn't thought I'd have the problem here. Ha! (Yes, stress could have had a part to play, but really? Truly? I don't think that was it.)

"Don't spin us! I'm going to be sick."

"Oh, don't vomit," he groaned. "It'll look really bad on camera."

I convulsed against his stomach, turned my head to the right, and spit away from us as far as I could manage...though I know I hit my sleeve the first time. *sigh*
..For the record? I don't recommend throwing up Odwalla Superfoods juice. Dude, was that a kiwi? HWWWWWECK! Wow, that really doesn't go well with Whopper at all! HWWWWWWECK!

(..And no, it wasn't kiwi, apparently. Innnnteresting!)

So as I spewed all over the countryside, we prepared for our landing..