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Ok, some people are crazy. I just got an email from the guy organizing the skydiving trip this weekend, sent just to the two newbies in the group, asking if we were ready to go and everything, and if we were getting videos, because this is seriously something you want documentation for. However, the videos are really expensive, and so I wasn't going to get one, since I've spent way too much money this summer as it is. I figured I'd have pictures from before and after, and that would have to be that.
So I emailed him back, told him I was all set to go, but no, I wasn't getting a video, and he immediately replies and tells me he'll buy the stupid video for me! And American manners are stupid, because I felt bad just saying, "W00t! Okay, go for it!" even though that's exactly what I felt like doing, so I said that I would love the video, but he didn't have to do it, blah blah, and then pointed out that he told us we should have told the people if we wanted a video like, a week ago, to make sure they had enough staff around to do it.
And he just replied that he just called and took care of it all. So... I guess I get a video of the whole thing! This pleases me ridiculously, and now I'll have proof of the whole freaking adventure... and this all just because I'm a good buddy of Erika's, and because Dave is officially one of the nicest guys on the planet.
God. The whole skydiving thing... I mean, if anyone ever asks what my superpower would be, I'll almost invariably say flying. Sometimes healing, if the mood takes me, but that's not a classic superpower, so usually I pick flying.
And the older I've gotten, the more scared of heights of I've gotten. But I almost wonder if part of that is this fear because I know I should fly. You ever hike up a mountain, and then you're standing there, at a few thousand feet, looking down? And it's all green, or brown, below, and the tops of the trees look so soft, and you just feel that you could step off that edge, easy as breathing? Except you know you can't, and maybe it's that desire to step anyway that terrifies me. Something sure does, and it's not just being up high, because I love being high up, seeing everything, feeling like you could cup miles in the palm of your hand, like by seeing it all at once, maybe you can protect it, maybe it's yours.
It's the same with a plane. I love seeing the world from a few thousand feet, and I love sailing in the clouds when you're up to cruising altitude. I love seeing the sun go down and feeling like you're on a level with it for once.
I've never felt so small as when I was in Karen's uncle's little four-seater plane. It was scary, yes, but also beautiful to be that powerless, to know you've got the powers of aerodynamics between you and the ground, and it doesn't seem right to rely on physics or mechanics (which is odd for a physics lover, maybe), because you have the air all around you, and you're in the sky, and it seems like it should all be up to the sky, and why should the sky care about you at all?
I love the water, too, because it makes my body seem more graceful than it is, because it makes me feel less chained to physicality. But I hate being stranded in deep water. I went water skiing one time (well, a bunch of times in one week), and I hated falling. I never got hurt or anything, and I always knew the boat was coming back for me, but sitting in the middle of the lake with nothing but my vest and my skis, I felt completely alone. I wasn't in my element, and the water was so big around me. It didn't matter that the sun was shining, that everyone in the boat was watching me; I still felt more alone than any other time in my life. And terrified, no matter how I laughed and smiled as my friends came back for me in the boat.
And I think flying might be a lot like that. Imagine that little bird, so completely alone in the sky, no matter how beautiful flying itself is, not matter how the sun shines. That sparrow or finch is, I think, a lot braver than I am.
Well. I certainly won't be alone on Sunday. I'll have an experienced jumper strapped to my back, and a cameraman falling around me. Which might take away some of the thrill, because I think fear in itself can be a wonderful experience. Yes, falling from 14,000 feet is a valid reason for fear, but adrenaline spikes are known to feel good to a lot of people, and I'm one of them. And if you're going to do something completely against normal human experience, and jump out into thin air from 14,000 feet, it seems like you should go all the way and do it by yourself.
But there'll be plenty of time for that later, if I want to do it again. And even if I'm doing it with another person (two if you count the cameraman), I get to stand at the edge of a piece of flying machinery, and jump out into absolute air, and just fall. It's all the carelessness of suicide, without the messy thing where your life ends.
There's all these things we do in our life, or don't do, because we might get hurt, because something might happen. And for one brief moment this Sunday, I get to say, "Screw it all," and do something completely crazy and ignore the consequences in favor of just leaving it all behind, and going ten thousand feet in free fall.
And you can't think about your 'chute, because that would take everything away from just jumping. You just go, and trust that it'll be there when you need it.
Someday I want to go into space, and I want to shoot off like a multi-ton arrow and just never stop going up until there is no more up or down, and I'm in constant free fall, because there is no gravity anymore. And screw seeing miles at a time; I can cup the whole world in the palm of my hand, and being a sparrow in the sky is nothing compared to a few people in a pretty piece of aluminum and titanium, circling this little blue marble we call home in the black that really is limitless.
Sheppard: I think anyone who doesn't want to fly is crazy.
O'Neill: And I think anyone who doesn't want to step through that [star]gate is equally as whacked.
You said it, boys.
So I emailed him back, told him I was all set to go, but no, I wasn't getting a video, and he immediately replies and tells me he'll buy the stupid video for me! And American manners are stupid, because I felt bad just saying, "W00t! Okay, go for it!" even though that's exactly what I felt like doing, so I said that I would love the video, but he didn't have to do it, blah blah, and then pointed out that he told us we should have told the people if we wanted a video like, a week ago, to make sure they had enough staff around to do it.
And he just replied that he just called and took care of it all. So... I guess I get a video of the whole thing! This pleases me ridiculously, and now I'll have proof of the whole freaking adventure... and this all just because I'm a good buddy of Erika's, and because Dave is officially one of the nicest guys on the planet.
God. The whole skydiving thing... I mean, if anyone ever asks what my superpower would be, I'll almost invariably say flying. Sometimes healing, if the mood takes me, but that's not a classic superpower, so usually I pick flying.
And the older I've gotten, the more scared of heights of I've gotten. But I almost wonder if part of that is this fear because I know I should fly. You ever hike up a mountain, and then you're standing there, at a few thousand feet, looking down? And it's all green, or brown, below, and the tops of the trees look so soft, and you just feel that you could step off that edge, easy as breathing? Except you know you can't, and maybe it's that desire to step anyway that terrifies me. Something sure does, and it's not just being up high, because I love being high up, seeing everything, feeling like you could cup miles in the palm of your hand, like by seeing it all at once, maybe you can protect it, maybe it's yours.
It's the same with a plane. I love seeing the world from a few thousand feet, and I love sailing in the clouds when you're up to cruising altitude. I love seeing the sun go down and feeling like you're on a level with it for once.
I've never felt so small as when I was in Karen's uncle's little four-seater plane. It was scary, yes, but also beautiful to be that powerless, to know you've got the powers of aerodynamics between you and the ground, and it doesn't seem right to rely on physics or mechanics (which is odd for a physics lover, maybe), because you have the air all around you, and you're in the sky, and it seems like it should all be up to the sky, and why should the sky care about you at all?
I love the water, too, because it makes my body seem more graceful than it is, because it makes me feel less chained to physicality. But I hate being stranded in deep water. I went water skiing one time (well, a bunch of times in one week), and I hated falling. I never got hurt or anything, and I always knew the boat was coming back for me, but sitting in the middle of the lake with nothing but my vest and my skis, I felt completely alone. I wasn't in my element, and the water was so big around me. It didn't matter that the sun was shining, that everyone in the boat was watching me; I still felt more alone than any other time in my life. And terrified, no matter how I laughed and smiled as my friends came back for me in the boat.
And I think flying might be a lot like that. Imagine that little bird, so completely alone in the sky, no matter how beautiful flying itself is, not matter how the sun shines. That sparrow or finch is, I think, a lot braver than I am.
Well. I certainly won't be alone on Sunday. I'll have an experienced jumper strapped to my back, and a cameraman falling around me. Which might take away some of the thrill, because I think fear in itself can be a wonderful experience. Yes, falling from 14,000 feet is a valid reason for fear, but adrenaline spikes are known to feel good to a lot of people, and I'm one of them. And if you're going to do something completely against normal human experience, and jump out into thin air from 14,000 feet, it seems like you should go all the way and do it by yourself.
But there'll be plenty of time for that later, if I want to do it again. And even if I'm doing it with another person (two if you count the cameraman), I get to stand at the edge of a piece of flying machinery, and jump out into absolute air, and just fall. It's all the carelessness of suicide, without the messy thing where your life ends.
There's all these things we do in our life, or don't do, because we might get hurt, because something might happen. And for one brief moment this Sunday, I get to say, "Screw it all," and do something completely crazy and ignore the consequences in favor of just leaving it all behind, and going ten thousand feet in free fall.
And you can't think about your 'chute, because that would take everything away from just jumping. You just go, and trust that it'll be there when you need it.
Someday I want to go into space, and I want to shoot off like a multi-ton arrow and just never stop going up until there is no more up or down, and I'm in constant free fall, because there is no gravity anymore. And screw seeing miles at a time; I can cup the whole world in the palm of my hand, and being a sparrow in the sky is nothing compared to a few people in a pretty piece of aluminum and titanium, circling this little blue marble we call home in the black that really is limitless.
Sheppard: I think anyone who doesn't want to fly is crazy.
O'Neill: And I think anyone who doesn't want to step through that [star]gate is equally as whacked.
You said it, boys.
