Birthday Adventure

If you've been reading my blog for a while, you'll know that I love celebrating my birthday, just as long as I'm not celebrating how old I am. This year I didn't have any trips planned, J. K. Rowling wasn't releasing a long-lost Harry Potter book, and it was looking like I was going to have to spend the day at work. Hmm, what's a girl to do? Well, I can go out to breakfast with my friends. (Cinnamon French toast at Kneaders is heavenly, just sayin'.) I can go to Zumba on a Wednesday night and count on that being a party. (It totally was!) My mom can take me shopping to buy clothes that fit me now that I'm shrinking. (Yay!) I can watch the last Harry Potter movie. (Big disappointment, and I had such high hopes. Sigh.) But really, none of that covers the main goal of crossing something off the bucket list. All right then, how about skydiving? Excellent!

On the Saturday before my birthday, I went out to lovely Erda, Utah, watched a movie that told me all the ways I could possibly die, and signed a bunch of forms saying that I wouldn't sue anybody if I did—and neither would anybody who's related to me. Then I met my tandem guy, got my harness on, got in the plane, and rode out to the end of the runway—and then rode back to the hangar because the wind gusts made jumping out of an airplane unsafe. Bummer.

Take two, the Saturday after my birthday. The skies were beautiful and there was no wind, so I drove out to Erda and got all suited up again (I got to skip the movie and the paperwork this time). We got on the plane, taxied to the end of the runway, and then actually took off. Woohoo! And then, when we got to 13,000 feet, it was time to jump. Even bigger woohoo!

I didn't pee my pants, I didn't panic, and I don't think I even swore. It was just way too cool. Then I got to free fall for a minute, which is almost surreal. You're so high up that you can't tell the ground is getting any closer, and it just feels like you're in a super-powered wind tunnel, so there's nothing to be scared about. It's kind of like you're just floating out in the wide open sky—amazing!

For the record, I'm falling at about 110 miles an hour, which is why my arms look like rubber. Then the parachute opens (that's a nice thing),

and you get to have a fun ride back to earth. I even got to steer for a little while and make us turn in tight little circles. So much fun! And then we came in for a landing, and I must say, ours was beautiful.

So there you go, I can check that one off the bucket list. But it's one I'd definitely do again. It was amazing! If anybody gets the urge to jump out of a plane, call me up, and I'll be right there with you. Sweet!