Skydiving

So, a few weeks ago, Dad came home and mentioned that one of his yoga students taught skydiving. He asked if I'd be interested in doing it this summer (either that or take another glider plane lesson). I said that it might be scary, but that yeah, I'd like to do it.
When I go to a theme park, falling is the only thing that really scares me. Mainly rides like the Drop Zone, where they lift you up, and then drop you straight down. So, yeah, I was a bit apprehensive. But also excited.
A short while later, Dad decided that he wanted to go skydiving too. So, we were planning to go some time in the next couple weeks.
Then yesterday, he says "let's go skydiving tomorrow!"
To which I went "WHAT?"
So, today, we drove up to the airport to go skydiving.
(Ellen asked for a detailed account, so I'll see what I can do).
They made us sign all these fliers saying that we wouldn't sue them if we died and stuff. And then since the winds were really crazy we had to wait on the ground for four hours until things calmed down. I wasn't expecting to wait quite that long. But even when the wind died down a bit, it would still gust up occasionally. They said the they could dive if the winds were about 30 mph. But when it suddenly gusted from 15 up to thirty, it was dangerous because it could blow them out of control after their parachutes went open.
But finally they announced that they'd take us up. Dad decided to get videos of us too, so each of us had our own camera man. Dad and I put on the suits (cause it's cold up there) and the harnesses (so we don't die) and walked out to the plane.
It was a very small plane. We climbed up a little ladder to get inside and sat down with a couple other divers. But the other passengers were people who were already skilled at it and were diving alone. Dad and I were the only beginners. It's called tandem skydiving - where you have an experienced diver strapped to your back.
So our plane circled up to 13,000 feet. My teacher/lifeline/expert skydiver/whatever you called him, gave me all the basics on the way up. I was expecting a lengthy tutorial. Not so. But I guess it makes sense. They keep people occupied thinking about stuff so they're not freaking out about leaping out of a moving plane. Which, you know, is something your instincts usually recommend against.
Basically what he told me was just shuffle up to the plane and put my toes over the edge. He'd do the actual jumping so that I didn't physically have to throw myself from the plane. When we started to fall, I was supposed to arch my back back and look up. If you do that, then even if you're falling out of control, you will shift around and fall belly-down. Keep your knees bent so your feet are by your rear. Then after a short while, you let go of the harness and hold your hands up besides your face.
We reached the proper altitude, and three of the more experienced divers leaped from the plane.
And since I offered to go first, then it was my turn.
I didn't really get a chance to get scared. Before I knew it, my toes were hanging over the edge of the little doorway and I was staring down at the patchwork of farm fields below me, the blobs of the lakes, the little lines of the roads and rivers, and the tiny specks that were houses. I couldn't even see the cars. IT was a beautiful view though. Especially with the hills nearby.
My cameraman was clinging to the side of the plane like a spider, ready to drop with us.
Then, before I knew it, I was falling, tumbling wildly out of the sky. It was hard to tell at first, since we still carried the momentum of the plane.
For about five seconds, I felt the seizing up that I felt during Drop Zone and when I went bungee jumping. I tried to yell, but nothing came out.
Then when that five seconds passed, I was able to relax. I arched my back and lifted my head, and I was facing the earth. The wind was rushing past, and must have been deafening, but I barely remember. Even though I was wearing goggles, my eyes started to water a bit from the sheer speed of the descent (though Dad says his eyes didn't water).
The camera man coasted up and linked hands with my teacher. They let go and my instructor grabbed his foot. Just horsing around and entertaining me, I suppose. After that, I lost all sight of the cameraman. But skilled divers don't need to do the belly-down thing.
For about an entire minute, we dropped out of the sky, plummeting towards the ground. Then my instructor began to wave his hands in front of me. I was afraid he was giving me some signal that I'd forgotten about. But then the parachute burst open and we jerked upwards as our descent slowed dramatically and abruptly. The straps were digging into my legs, but my instructor made a couple adjustments and then it felt better. He told me to take off my goggles.
My ears popped several times, but I was able to keep them relatively clear by half-yawning.
My instructor held out his arms and offered me two loops, one to each side. I took them. He said pull right to go right and left to go left.
I followed his lead and he pulled us into a strong spiral (which Dad said made him queasy, but I thought it was fun). He leveled out and then went the other way.
It must have been about four or five minutes that we floated down towards the ground. The view was amazing. I watched as everything got slowly bigger, and I finally caught sight of the field behind the airport. There were little specks of the people who had gone before us.
A couple hundred feet above the ground, everything seemed to start coming at us much faster. I lifted my feet in front of me like I was told, and we hit the ground. The moment my feet jammed into the ground, I sat back on the ground as I was supposed to. About three people ran forwards and grabbed the chute to keep us from getting blown away, since it was still really windy.
And I stood up, feeling very strange to be standing on the ground once more.