falling I was worried about. I tried to
breathe deeply and focus on the scen-
ery. There was the train bridge. There
was the beach. There was the highway
leading home.
The ascent to 10,000 feet seemed
to take hours, and as we climbed, the
weird out-of-body calm I’d felt on
takeoff seeped away.
It was like coming out of shock,
losing that numbed protection and
feeling the full pain of an injury for
the first time—only instead of pain,
I felt a terror that rose through my
body until it reached my lungs and
my throat and my brain and threat-
ened to choke me.
Barry, behind me, sensed my grow-
ing tension—no surprise, since we
were pressed together like a pair of
lugers on a sled. He squeezed my
shoulder periodically and pointed
out landmarks below. As we neared
jump height, the Cessna circled a large
cloud, skirting its edge.
“You might be a lucky girl and get a
cloud jump,” Barry said. I did not want
a cloud jump.
The pilot announced that we
were nearly in position for Neil and
Matthew’s jump. They shimmied to-
ward the gaping hole where the plane’s
door should have been and nudged
themselves awkwardly into a spooningrd.com 109First Person