Gerrronnniiiiiiiimo!

Indescribable. Just like the diving, yet utterly different. I can’t understand why everyone else has butterflies when it’s a tandem sky dive. But waiting to suit up, watching a plane load of solos empty down the sky, I can feel the adrenaline spurt through my body, feel my heart thudding faster and stomach clenching in anticipation. I’m impressed with the chutes (Germans naturally); 365 sq.ft. of fabric tightly tucked away at the bottom, reserve chute slightly larger stowed on top. A guillotine pin that gets triggered automatically at 2,000 feet if your instructor for some obscure and suicidal reason fails to pull the chute at 5,000 feet Don’t forget to breath and don’t land with your feet down, check positions for the free fall and then the relaxing ascent down and don’t fall out of your harness. Briefing done, we wait around till it’s our turn.

Naturally, Singhania, Agarawal and Guha rings through the PA system as I’m waiting for my cheeseburger. Too late to cancel, I shovel it down in desperation, and assure Stuart I’m ready to suit up. Suit on, I step into the harness, excitement mounting. Even the astonishingly silly French cap (a revenge for Waterloo apparently, and the FAA or whatever initials govern the sky insist on some form of headgear, and as we don’t want to potentially knock the instructor behind us senseless with a hard helmet on the way down…..) fails to deter my pleasure. The call is made for lift 9 and we head to the pen. The cold wind rattles through me and as I notice everyone else has kitted up over their jacket I think I shouldn’t have listened to Stewart when he said I wouldn’t need the fleece. 13 of us on this lift – 5 pairs of tandems and 3 solos. Stuart and I will be the last to go, so like all good inventory systems we’re first in.

I snuggle up to Stuart, back to chest, and before I can enjoy the concept, I’m sandwiched by Luke’s parachute. We’re romantically packed into the plane, back to chest to parachute without an inch of spare capacity, and the propellers rack up, and we throttle back. The plan is to get to 13,000 feet and start chucking folk down, free falling to 5,000 feet before engaging the chute. Stuart points out Silverstone off to the left, and gives me the last few instructions before we move into the clouds. Breaking free, it’s sunshine and blue sky, a thick carpet of whipped cream below us, obliterating the quaint patchwork of villages beneath us. I clap my hands with glee, unable to restrain my joy and we’re only at 9,000 feet. Time to hook together. Stuart hitches me up on his lap and hooks me to his harness. Straps tugged tight, making breathing a sport. Helmets on, goggles on.

It’s time and the flimsy roll door is tugged back, and we’re off… the solos tumble out like overripe mangoes, and we start sliding forward on the bulkheads. My stomach is on wings and I can’t wait. Dimple, Palak, Abhijit. Then it’s us. Legs dangling from the door, tucked back, arms crossed over the chest, head leaning back into Stewart and we’re off. My stomach plummets as we cascade out the door into a somersault, too quick to notice the plane and suddenly it’s magic. The adrenalin slams through my body as my brain reacts to the free fall, mouth woohoooing in unadulterated glee. It’s the most amazing feeling. Arms and legs bent, facing down hurtling straight towards the blanket of white, wind tearing through you, stealing your exhilaration right from you. Stuart points at the clouds, and it takes me a few beats to realise it’s our shadow!! By the time realisation hits, so do the clouds. I feel like Superman to the rescue, tearing through a witch’s cauldron and just as abruptly as we hit it, it’s clear and you see the ground below. Your exultant whoop is cut short by the parachute opening, yanking you back up several feet.

Time to hang loose and enjoy the easy glide down, soaring like a bird, the chill cutting through your gloves, sending urgent shivers up your spine, raising every pore on your body. Fucking brilliant!!! I can’t stop the elated, if manic laugh and more hand clapping. That was shockingly fabulous!! The view is quaint, different shades of green, little villages, the other parachutes littering the sky. Stuart teases me asking if this beat being pulled by a boat. Well, I did rather enjoyed being pulled by the boat… but the free fall. Unfuckingbelievable! The sensation is unreal and there’s just no way I can describe it. What’s deeply distressing (and this could be a function of early onset of dementia that is known to plague me) is that by the time we hit the ground, I’ve forgotten just how it felt when we hurled out the plane…!! All I know without a shadow of doubt is that it’s the most amazing rush, a feeling of being utterly invincible. Fuck! 40-45 seconds. That’s all it was, but my God…. To be able to do those 40-45 seconds again! It’s addictive. No wonder Stuart’s been doing this since he was 16!

The four of us skip back to ditch our gear. My body is still quivering with the excitement, although the slow descent did get rid of most of the serious shuddering. I’m out of the harness and suit in less than a minute, but if Stewart is to be believed, the silly grin will stay for at least 3 days, gently pointing me to our certificates. Certificates? We’ve all been awarded certificates for completing our training and first sky dive. Training? You’ve got to be kidding me. A briefing and a few instructions to remind you and all we did was sit back, relax and enjoy the flight. We’re still bouncing around, and I’m still hungry, so we head for the food trailer. Shit! My potatoes are still on the hob!! Phew just in time to give the boys in the fire department a rest. Where was I? Oh yeah, the excessive animation prevails and I call Ma to let her know I’m not dead and am told Mimi wanted to get me a sky dive as a birthday present. You go Mimu! I try my damnedest to go back to the feeling as we fell into the free fall, but the best I can do is a daft grin slashing my face and the knowledge that I will do it again.

The walk home from Marylebone, snagging a bunch of orange yellow lilies, nearly burning the house down as I write this has done little to dissipate the exultant feeling and I wonder who else I can call and inflict my thrill on, as words, gestures and weird sounds trip over each other in a futile effort to capture the sensation….. think I need to be exercised to expend the left over adrenalin. Hell, I'm still shivering, silly grin firmly in place.