Padalci
The first time I jumped out of an airplane, the thing that struck me most was the almost palpable CLUNK in my brain the instant before I hurled myself through the doorway. It was similar to what you feel/hear when engaging the four-wheel-drive in an old truck. It was the sound of my free will disengaging and my brain and behavior becoming those of a well- (if misguidedly-) programmed robot. The innate drive to survive is so strong that only by shutting down every part of the brain, except the bit that’s been trained to jump through a 1,000-meter-high doorway, can you actually make yourself jump through it. This shutting-down process is not entirely pleasant. Fractions of a second later the adrenal glands projectile-vomit adrenaline into the bloodstream, presumably to make your 22 remaining seconds of life, if all does not go to plan, less unpleasant. You can’t blame your body for responding this way — no matter how many times you tell it that the chute will open, it just doesn’t believe you. Not the first time, anyway. All your body knows is that, insofar as it’s actually doing the math, it has 22.036 seconds, give or take, before it’s a damp steaming heap in a field. I ain’t going through no muthafuckin’ doorway and you can hang your “reserve” in your ass…
The warring factions of brain, disturbed by having its free will overridden, and body, overdose-euphoric with adrenaline and the added bonus of not being a disgusting heap of offal, is hard to deal with afterwards. It may take a lot of gin to restore the brain and body to homeostasis. A lot.
This picture is precious to me because it’s the only one of me jumping. And Magda took it. And it’s my last jump. In the fall of 2003 we were commuter-dating, flying back and forth as often as possible, but those weekend visits were rare enough that time was precious. One early November morning she gamely went along to the airfield with me when the frantic SMS came in that conditions were ideal for one last day of jumping before the season closed in. We didn’t know it at the time, but it marked the last day ever for the Ajdovščina padalci (skydivers) group. Moments after Magda took this picture, a show-off student came in too steep and too fast, managing to put his knee through the tail of the Piper Cub just visible in the lower right. The accident made our group unwelcome at the airfield, and Adam’s advent not long afterward made me reassess the wisdom of traveling at 55 meters/second straight at the ground.
But I do miss it, and can highly recommend it, if you don’t have any damn cute babies.
good stuff jd.
Comment by mdw — Thursday 10 November 05 @ 21.57 MST+2.00
Great post. I’ve always wanted to try skydiving, but I’m too nervous about equipment failing. I guess one can always wait for the virtual-reality version. The kind where you strap on a helmet and it feels like you’re falling, and then when you land the Swedish bikini team is there to congratulate you.
Comment by Michael M. — Friday 11 November 05 @ 10.57 MST+2.00