Last weekend I did things like: drink heavily, act obnoxious, eat pot brownies, fall asleep on park benches. Standard weekend fare.
This weekend was a special one. I got to make one of my less frequently made bad decisions. Jumping out of a plane. This is the stupidest thing any sane human being can do. I am usually a tense ball of anxiety (but more than usual) the entire day leading up, and this is 100% because PEOPLE SHOULD NOT BE JUMPING OUT OF PLANES!
I’ve been going with a couple of my buddies once a year for three years. On my first jump one of the girls that was at the airfield asked an instructor; This is completely safe right?
Instructor: NO! Eating lunch in the park is completely safe.
There is something inherently wrong with this entire process. One should never be fooled: You are flying up 13,500 ft or so in the air (flying is a miracle), and jumping out. All there is to save you is a nylon sheet and some strings. Last time when my instructor pulled the chute he said “Look! I saved our lives!”.
And he was right. We were just plummeting toward earth at 120mph. Terminal Velocity bro. It’s like my man Pat Swayze says “100% Pure Adrenalin!“. It is better than any drug (not YOU booze, I love you the mostest, just let me finish writing shit that no one will read, and then we can make out). The rush is really amazing and, believe it or not it can be a very calming experience. Up in the sky there is no sound, no cars, trains. No one is asking me any questions, no phone calls. And, if I die I don’t gotta go to work the next day. Who the fuck is ever mad at a day off.
Now if you will excuse me I see someone who needs to be yelled at.