Why would anyone jump out of a perfectly good airplane?

I came up with the brilliant idea to go skydiving once K and I found out we'd both be going to Hawaii. We'd talked about going sometime, and Hawaii seemed like the perfect opportunity.

As you can see, when the time came, I realized the true brilliance of my idea. Everyone else looked excited. Freaks!

K was the only experienced jumper on our plane -- well, besides the guys we were all strapped to. They were making quite a bit of jokes: "Really? It's your first time? Mine too." "Oh, you're jumping with Jason? Yeah, he's upstairs shootin' up before the jump. He has a litle bit of a problem."

We were still climbing when the videographer, Lyle, opened the door to take this. I gripped the wall because I was terrified we were on a plane with an open door. Ha!

As Lyle filmed, Jason (my instructor) said to me, "Do you ever have that feeling like you're forgetting something?"

"Please just tell me you have the parachute."

"Yeah, well, I don't have that feeling right now. I just wanted to know if you'd ever had it."

This little Asian kid was the first to jump out. He was completely by himself, and he looked all of 18. Then it was K's turn. I was so scared to see him fall out of the plane and disappear into the clouds. It occurred to me that if anything happened to him I would be absolutely devastated, and it would be totally my fault, since this whole trip was my idea to begin with. I'd spent the last few minutes of our ascension into the clouds praying for all of our safety, so I was hoping the fact I was probably inches away from God would make him that much more likely to hear and answer my prayer.

And then it was my turn. There was a bar above the door, and I held onto it. I didn't want to fall out before it was time -- like that would matter. I noticed later when I watched the video that the instructor pulled my hands off the bar. I wasn't gripping onto it or anything, but I didn't want to leave that plane before we were both ready. (Or at all, really!)

I closed my eyes, and I felt Jason tilt us forward. I opened my eyes for a split second to see nothing but puffy, white clouds inches in front of me. I closed my eyes tight and remembered how they'd told me to make sure I breathed while we were jumping. I concentrated hard on that advice.

Plane, come back!!! (My eyes are totally closed in this picture!)

Suddenly, I heard Jason say something to me. I opened my eyes to see Lyle falling just feet away from us. He was facing me, and he was making faces and smiling. The camera attached to the helmet on his head was rolling. He pointed at it. I didn't care about looking cool for the camera -- I was still scared. But I did at least try harder to keep my eyes open.

I'm pretty sure right here I was saying, "Oh my gosh!" and trying to pretend I hadn't really just jumped out of an airplane.

I actually almost don't look terrified here. Note my total lack of facial control. Yeah, that's hot.

Me by the sun. Between the clouds. Pretty sure that's not normal.

Me in a cloud. Pretty sure that's even less normal. In case you were wondering, it was very cool and damp -- like fog. If I wasn't so scared, I think I'd have been freezing.

I didn't notice until later that my instructor had actually jumped in flip flops. And to think -- I'd changed into tennis shoes just before because I figured you couldn't jump in sandals. Then again, he had jumped 6 times that day and more than 3,000 in his lifetime. It was also his 41st birthday. What a way to spend it!

Once we came out of the clouds, Jason pulled our chute, and it felt like we were hanging in midair. I remember thinking, "Oh God, are we going to be suspended here forever?" (Way to panic!) After falling about 5,000 feet at about 120 miles an hour, that drastic slow-down felt like a total halt.

Just then, Jason said, "Hold on a sec," and I felt him messing with something above our heads. A while later, he said, "Okay, we're good now. Almost had to use the reserve chute."

"WHAT?!!" I screamed. "You had to use the reserve chute?!"

"No, no, no," he said. "We were a little tangled, and we almost had to, but I got it under control."

For some reason, the thought that we had no backup was absolutely terrifying, so I was glad to hear we still had a giant piece of fabric folded safely on his back to keep us from plumeting into the ground.

We did have a great view, though.

Just as I was starting to enjoy the view, Jason told me he was loosening my straps that connected me to him. "Why?!" I asked. He told me it would be more comfortable that way.

"I'm comfortable, I'm comfortable!" I insisted. Hey, as far as I was concerned, those little black straps were all that was keeping me (well, that and the giant piece of fabric) from falling into the ground. I could handle a little pinch for a minute or two!

He pointed out a brown and yellow chute landing far below us. "That's your boyfriend," he said. At that point, I realized I had no idea what color our parachute was. I looked up, and there it was: a big, bright yellow and red parachute. Yellow is my favorite, and you've gotta love red. Awesome.

We started circling down over the beach, heading toward the landing area just to the south of us, which happened to be about a football field's length from the shore. As we got closer to the ground, I heard K yell out to me, "I'll catch you!" You can hear him say that on my video. :)

The landing was good. I landed on my feet, and I didn't stumble or anything. I was very glad to be safe and sound and on the ground. Whew!

As soon as I landed, the videographer said to me, "So do you think you'll do it again?"

Very quickly and matter-of-factly, I said, "No."

But hey, I can say I did it, right?