The List

Weekend at a nudist camp. Barefoot waterskiing. Traveling to an unknown city with no itinerary. Singing torch songs at a San Francisco nightclub. Completing a half-marathon. Every year, starting with my 20th birthday, I make an effort to push my "comfort" limits. This tradition has given me some interesting, if not somewhat stupid, memories and my friends will occasionally ask me about these events. Recently though, age and reflection has caused me to have to "adjust" one of my recollections.

I used to think that my non-tandem skydive from 18,000 feet - the highest jump a human can make without having an oxygen tank (or so I was told at the time) - was a pretty good "pushing my comfort limits" thing to have done but I rarely included it in my list. The truth of the matter is that the memory was tainted by something I didn't do. I wasn't successful on the jump - I didn't do it "right". So every time I've reflected on that experience, I regret that I failed overall and I kinda write it off as a let-down. Most times I don't even include it in my "what I've done" list. But I need to start giving that jump more credit than I previously have done.

It turns out that my having failed the jump was the bigger story. Because while it is true that I jumped non-tandem from 18,000 feet off a plane flying over Hollister, it is also true that I did not pull my parachute.

The moment I deplaned, I started into an unplanned air ballet that probably looked kinda cool from the ground far below. My view was different because what I saw was sky ground sky ground sky ground and the two dive instructors that jumped with me couldn't get close enough to help me stop "flipping".

When ya' jump from 18,000 feet, the freefall is supposed to last for 90 seconds and you're supposed to pull your chute in-between 8,500 and 11,000 feet. During that freefall, you're supposed to watch your altimeter, continue to steer yourself towards the landing site and generally keep your wits about you. I was unable to do any of those things because I never evened out like I was supposed to have done. Finally, at about 12,000 feet, the videographer (who had also jumped), managed to get close enough to pull my chute for me.

So: Weekend at a nudist camp. Barefoot waterskiing. Traveling to an unknown city with no itinerary. Singing torch songs at a San Francisco nightclub. Completing a half-marathon. Freefalling from 18,000 feet and not deploying my parachute.

There. That's better.

Anyone else have a list?