Reader\'s Digest - 04.2020

a recurring vision of myself reaching
out in panic as we exited the plane
and fastening on to the door frame or
a strut with a viselike grip fueled by
fear, pulling the Cessna off-balance
and risking everyone’s lives.
All I could do was stay limp and
trust Barry to get us in the air—
actually participating in our exit from
the plane was beyond me. I felt him
rocking back and forth to get our mo-
mentum up, heard him yell some-
thing, but I was deep in my own head.
Then we rolled out of the plane and
into space.

Barry had urged me to keep an eye
on the Cessna as I somersaulted out
of it. Watching the plane appear to
fall away from you when you were
the one plummeting was, he as-
sured me, one of the coolest parts of
a jump. But I had no desire to watch
the earth and the sky spin around
me. I kept my eyes shut hard until I
could feel that Barry had stabilized
us in free fall.
I felt him tap me on the shoulder,
then again, and yell something in my
ear, and I peeled my hands off the
harness handles and thrust my arms
out wide like I was supposed to. I

tried to think about arcing my body

into a slight bow: feet together, head

up, my belly pointing the way down.

I stared at the ground rushing up at

us, and suddenly I opened my mouth

and spoke for the first time since we’d

started the flight up.

“Holy ——!” I yelled, and the wind

seemed to tear the words out of my

mouth to make room for more. “Holy

——! Holy ——! Holy ——!!” A small

part of my brain noted, amazed, that

I could even hear myself, could even

produce audible speech, with the

force of the air roaring by me. (Later,

I would learn that we had reached a

peak speed of 101 miles per hour.)

I screamed those same two words

over and over through our entire

37  seconds of free fall. Once I got

started, I couldn’t seem to stop. My

voice got hoarse, my throat raw. I

kept hollering. Dimly, over the sound

of my own swearing, I heard Barry

say something about our chute, and

then a force seemed to pluck at us

from above—not a hard jerk, but now

my feet were dangling below me and

I could feel my weight pushing down

on the crotch straps of my harness.

I stopped yelling. Barry reached

ONCE I GOT STARTED, I COULDN’T SEEM TO

STOP. MY VOICE GOT HOARSE, MY THROAT RAW.

FOR 37 SECONDS, I KEPT HOLLERING.

rd.com 111

First Person Reader’s Digest