Forward Motion

- Meghan Dusek

"It’s an intensely personal experience," Eric tells me over breakfast at Dick’s a few weeks earlier. "Only one percent of the population has done it." He takes a slow sip of his Bloody Mary and bites the celery. "We’re an elite group," he says, smiling with green splinters in his teeth. "If riding in an airplane is flying, then riding in a boat is swimming. If you want to experience the element, then get out of the vehicle."

And that’s how I was enticed into jumping out of a perfectly good airplane, 10,000 feet up in the air, moving at 120 mph. Interested but not entirely swayed? Neither was I.

I’m not a thrillseeker by any means, but I do like to keep it interesting. The desire to skydive—and to do it now—could be partially ascribed to having met someone who does it for a living. More importantly it sprang from the realization that there won’t be a better time…and that a friend of mine would be leaving for two years of language school. What better way to cement a friendship than risking our lives together?

The best skydiving station we knew of was in Baldwin, WI - right off Interstate 94, Hammond exit, approximately 20 or 30 minutes from St. Paul. Prices vary according to jump and experience, plane fuel, pilot, and other associated expenses—for our tandem jump, we paid $179. For a solo first jump, the price is closer to $300, which includes a morning of flight school and two instructors jumping with you out of the plane.

Sami and I wound up making three different appointments before we finally got into the air due to volatile weather conditions. A few harmless clouds one second can put off an entire afternoon of would-be sky divers when the clouds turn black. Flexible scheduling is a must. But getting a valid appointment is only the beginning.

First there are the waivers...20 pages of liability and worse case scenario sign-offs. Signing a life away is easier than it sounds. The number of things that can go wrong, magnified through pages composed in Times New Roman caps in utterly bland language numbs one to dangers. The harmless factor of papers, with each blank flippantly initialed defies each risk made inconsequential with each flick of the wrist:

Initial here: Twin Cities Skydive is not liable for injuries sustained in landing.
Initial here: Twin Cities Skydive is not liable or responsible for inappropriate use of attire.
Initial here: and so on.

Ground school comes next.

"Lie on your tummy. Bend your legs back like you’re kicking your own butt. Try to arch your back as much as possible to cut on wind resistance. Hold onto the harness until I give you the thumbs up, then spread your arms and we’ll spin if you promise not to puke, because you know who gets it in the face. Yeah. Then I’ll give the thumbs up again and grab your harness and get ready for the jerk. We’re gonna fly back up into the air, about thirty feet. It might hurt. Then we’ll do some spins, then land. When we land, hold your feet up by holding your knees so they’re bent. Do not put your feet down until I say to, and if I say to. Plan on landing on your ass."

The tandem-masters go over key points as they adjust jumpsuits and harnesses. Eric, my tandem partner, helps me into the harness, explaining the function of each part of it, where we’ll be hooked together, and where I should hold on as he tightens the bands around my thighs, waist and shoulders. I can barely walk.

Inside the plane the door is open, making conversation impossible, as eight of us sit huddled on the benches, holding onto bars along the ceiling and walls. I lean forward to stick my head out of the open door and look down through the hazy white and see the little SKYDIVE TWIN CITIES letters, matchbox cars that move like ants on criss-crossing grids and neat squares of cornfields.

When we reach 10,000 feet in the air I crouch down in front of the door with Eric behind me. He counts off: "Ready...set...go." And we roll sideways out of the plane.

As we begin the freefall, the immediate nanoseconds are eerily silent as we float. Then the whistling starts and the noise in my ears is like a TV turned to full volume on static. I can feel the pressure on the harness. The freefall lasts around a minute but you don’t feel it because every moment literally flies by. Eric works with the wind to flip us, turn us, roll us, creating a roller coaster out of thin air. He gives the thumbs up; I grasp my harness and anticipate the jerk.

We lurch back upwards 30 feet in the air. We can talk in normal tones, and from the height Eric points the St. Croix River, even the Metrodome is visible on this clear, serene blue-sky day. It’s relaxing, mind-blowing and absolutely addictive.

It’s impossible to convey the feelings associated with skydiving—just have to go to know—but I will guarantee that if one is so inclined to skydive, it is one of the most amazing experiences one can have. For more information on openings, pricing, and to see videos of jumps visit http://www.skydivetwincities.com.