A good friend gave me the best birthday present I've ever received this year. On February 18 he and I jumped out of a plane at 11,000 feet. WE MADE A DIVE!!! It was the most important experience of my life. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay Here's how it happens: You pay $220 for a full day of training. The training consists of showing all the parachute equipment and how it works. Next, you'll be suspended from the parachute harness to learn how to pull the levers that control the direction and braking of the parachute as you fall and what to do if the main chute doesn't open. You then climb into a "skeleton" plane (a cockpit without wings or engine) with two guides who follow the routine of descending onto the wing strut and jumping. Then you're suspended from another harness that keeps you suspended parallel to the ground while you practice looking at the altimeter and pulling on the lanyard. Practice these things until they become second nature. There are a large number of safety features to significantly reduce the chance of death or injury (you still have to sign a waiver, though, which says in eight different ways that I have no insurance, and that I agree to assume all risks of undertaking an activity that can cause serious injury or death). For example, during your first jumps, two instructors hold you during the "free fall" to ensure you remember what to do as you fall. Also, the field you land in is HUGE, so there are few trees, roads, or power lines to fall into. A guide speaks to you with a radio transmitter on the ground to tell you where to land. Plus, your reserve parachute is nearly fail-proof. If something goes wrong with the main chute, there are two or three ways to release the backup prepared by experts. Even if you pass out or are so petrified that you can't pull the launcher, there's a device on your chest that automatically releases the backup chute at 1,000 feet. I didn't agree with at least one of the recommended safety measures suggestions, though. One of the instructors said that if, while we're falling, we think there's something wrong with the main chute, let's cut it off and go to the backup chute. I had a problem with that strategy. What happens if there is a problem with the backup??? Do I really want to get rid of the main chute if there is just a small problem, and risk something major going wrong with the backup that has no backup??? Alright. Almost no one ever has to use back-up. Unfortunately, during training, we were unable to jump at the end of the day due to the windy weather. Instead we had to wait until the following weekend, which was extremely hard on my nerves. It was like a postponement of the date of your execution in the electric chair, or “walking the plank.” After all the training, you just want to get it over with!! The day has finally arrived. My friend went first. I watched from the ground as the small plane released him and his two instructors at 11,000 feet. They looked like ants in my binoculars. She performed almost perfectly. I was very impressed, as my friend is deathly afraid of things like walking downhill while hiking. It must have taken all his courage and even skydiving. But like me, he's always wanted to skydive and we're both adventurous enough to do it. Then my turn came. I got dressed (looks like Chuck Yeager. See photo) and calmly walked towards the small Cessna plane on the tarmac. Five of us crammed into a plane justlarge enough to fit three people. It took about 20 minutes to get to 11,000 feet, and I found I was less nervous on the climb than I was during the wait last week. (It was interesting to watch the landscape below and relax by joking with the instructors.) Finally, at the designated altitude, one of the instructors opens the plane's door to see if we've finished the jump area. The plane's engines are momentarily shut down, and the coach turns to me and yells, “ARE YOU READY TO SKY-DIVE???” You must respond very loudly with a confident “YES!!!” so that the instructors know that you aren't so petrified that you won't be able to function when you get off the plane. If you don't respond forcefully, they apparently take you back to earth. Later, a friend of mine out west told me about his first static line jump dive with a friend. When the instructor yelled at her to ask if she was ready, she replied, “NO!!” The instructor responded by yelling, “YES, SIX!!” and I threw her off the plane! Next, the coach who asked me if I was ready comes down onto the upright under the wing. You must then place your feet on the upright, walk back towards the other coach for an OK signal, then place your hands on the wing support bar. Now you're in a semi-crouched position on the mast, as the second trainer steps out the other side of the mast (now you're sandwiched between them, looking at the ground 11,000 feet below, and feeling the 80 mile-per-hour wind you previously thought would have pulled you down from the upright). Everything for the next 60 seconds is a frenetic blur. You turn to the coach on the left and say "CHECK IN!!" You turn to the other coach and yell "CHECK OUT!!" Then, with a swinging motion on the upright, you yell “READY!! SET!! GO!!!!!!!!!!!" You let go of the wing support and fall out of the plane with the two trainers hopefully holding on to you (in my case, one of them accidentally lost his grip! !) For the next few seconds, I was almost unconscious due to sensory overload. Regaining my senses, I realized that I had to perform the next steps during the 40 seconds of free fall (which seemed to take about 5 seconds first). , you have to arch your back and spread your arms and legs to avoid rolling out of control during the free fall. Then you have to check your altimeter and tell the coach on the right when you are at 9,000 feet, after which you turn to the other coach. to nod that you're okay. Next, perform the first of two "practice" throws of the rope, which involves (1) looking at your thrower; (2) simultaneously moving your left hand over your head while your right hand moves over the thrower (to stop you from rolling); and (3) perform a test pull. You'll also want to look at the altimeter every few seconds (this isn't hard to remember, since you definitely don't want to fall too far past the point where you need to pull the lanyard). During this time, you are also encouraged to look around, smile at your instructors, and have fun (which is a little difficult for a beginner, although I managed it a little, I was told later). Finally, at 5,500 feet, flash “five-five” with your hands, signaling to your coaches that you are at 5,500 feet and about to pull the lanyard. You pull the cord and the slide immediately opens and jerks gently. you in a vertical position. You look up to make sure the slide is opened properly, and then about four minutes of pure bliss begins. The slide is rectangular, which provides incredible maneuverability. You can turn and complete circles almost effortlessly and with great precision. You look around calmly at the landscape 4,000 feet below. You feel like you're in an animation, 14(4), 371–382.