Current Release: September 11th, 2007 | Vol. XXIV Iss. 10

Photo courtesy nate swann

Skydive Suffolk at 13,000 feet

By nate swann

ndswann@vwc.edu

“What the hell am I thinking?”

That was the last thought I had at 13,000 feet before plummeting to my assumed death. My tandem partner and instructor said many things that led me to believe this would be my last act before reaching the pearly gates. Lucky for me, I told Dr. Linda Ferguson, professor of management/business/economics, where my last testament was located before getting in the plane.

This trip started over a year ago when many people, including myself, went to Jason Seward, director of recreation sports, and told him of our interest in a skydiving trip. He said that he would try to find a good price, and a few months ago we had our plan.

Twelve students decided to go on the trip. Some were sports players, some were RAs, some were naïve freshmen and there was even an adult studies student. We were very diverse.

We left early Saturday morning for Skydive Suffolk, which is about 45 minutes from campus. Not a peep was heard on the van ride there as everyone was either still tired or in fear.

We arrived at our destination and signed the legal documents that would only allow us to sue if a leprechaun flew the plane - on a Tuesday - in the middle of a Big Foot sighting. Skydive Suffolk covered their bases well.

After watching a brief instructional video that informed us that one in 333 parachutes malfunction, we split up into teams of three. I was hoping to go after a few groups so I could see that people could survive this daring feat. Of course, my group was selected to go first.

We got in the plane as parents and friends watched anxiously. The instructor asked who wanted to go first, and no one in my group raised their hand. I graciously and foolishly volunteered, and the flight took off.

I was pretty nervous waiting to get on the plane, but that could not match how nervous I was on the ascent. At 11,000 feet, my body started to shake as it finally hit me that I might die.

When we reached the drop zone, my instructor told me it was time. I moved to the back of the plane and sat on the edge of the open door. He counted to three, and we jumped.

It was the most surreal feeling. Both excitement and fear. My stomach felt weird for the first few seconds, but then it calmed down. It might have been the block of cheese I ate before boarding the plane.

Thanks for the advice, Wikipedia.

We were in freefall for about a minute and a half, and it was the best feeling ever. I was not in control, and I did not mind. It kind of felt like I was not falling. My popping ears were the only indicator of that fact.

Eventually, my tandem buddy released the parachute, and my groin area felt it immediately as my harness was pulled up sharply.

And then silence.

It’s amazing how quiet 3,000 feet above the ground can be. All the busyness and chaos was non-existent as peace and tranquility was the only thing on my mind.

That and the thought of landing.

As we approached the ground, my tandem partner told me to lift up my feet, and after his feet hit,

I would help him walk it off. So we did just that, and had one of the best landings of the day.

I immediately ran to my friends and told them how awesome the experience was and how my adrenaline was still pumping. It was one of the best experiences I have ever had.

After watching the rest of our group land - some better than others - we got together and took one last group photo before traveling back to campus.

On the ride back, we discussed how awesome our trip was and how we could not wait for the next one.

It was no longer quiet, as the fear had been overcome.