Life Before Damaged Vol. 8 (The Ferro Family) by H. M. Ward Page B
Authors: H. M. Ward
inside my stomach, bracing against a lethal impact.
My teacher person tugs on the straps of our parachutes, securing my back tight against his front. We clumsily walk toward the door to the plane, where I look down.
Crap. I shouldn’t have done that. Thirteen thousand feet of frigid nothingness blows in my face. I lower my goggles and allow my instructor to guide me into the proper exit position: arms crossed, gloved hands gripping opposite shoulders, knees bent, feet dangling. The only thing keeping me in the plane is my harness fastened to his. He holds onto the door frame and, with a push and pull, we somersault into the air.
Everything spins rapidly and, for a fraction of a second, I see the underside of our airplane.
FREAKY CHEEKY JAM AND TONSIL EXAM
October 19th, 3:17pm
W e toss , turn and tumble wildly in the air. I don't know which way is up or down; everything is going by so fast. The rush of air in my ears is deafening. A scream tries to escape my throat but can't. Breathing is difficult in this wind, making screaming impossible.
After what seems like an eternity, I feel a tap on my shoulder. It's the signal. I lift my arms out to my sides, my elbows bent. We stabilize, and it no longer feels like we're falling. It's more like we're suspended in space, being pushed up by tremendous gusts of wind. The instructor gives me a thumbs up. Since we can’t hear each other over the wind, this is his way of asking if I’m ok. I respond by showing him a thumbs up, and we continue our fall.
My cheeks are flapping in the wind and I’m thankful I didn’t ask for the video of Gina’s freaky cheeky jam and tonsil exam.
My heart is still up in the plane, and I’m waiting for it to catch up with us. A part of me starts freaking out. We’re supposed to free fall for about a minute before the chute is supposed to open. It feels like five minutes, not one.
Has my instructor passed out?
Are the security devices not working?
Is our main chute broken?
Is our safety chute defective, too?
Oh, shit! I’m going to die! Why do I keep doing stupid stuff like this?
I’m jostled from a horizontal to a vertical position by a painless tug on every strap of my harness and then... silence and calm. The chute opens, the wind dies down, and it's easier to breathe. We’re gently floating.
Breathless, I stare down at the world below.
That was...
That was...
Oh, my GOD! I’m flying! I let out a high pitched squee and kick my feet back and forth.
My instructor navigates as we slowly descend under our canopy. Everything slows, and I can appreciate the view. Long Island is breathtaking, its thickets of green leaves contrasting against the pale sand and vast expanse of surrounding water. It's so peaceful up here.
Suddenly, the canopy dips and we end up on our side, spinning around in circles. We're gaining speed.
I’m about to grip onto my instructor’s arm--something we were specifically told not to do--when the canopy straightens itself again. We're back in a vertical position, floating peacefully once more. Instructor Man shoots another thumbs up sign from behind me and I burst out laughing.
Oh, my God! He did it on purpose!
The guy wiggles his thumbs up in front of my face again waiting for my reply. Giddy, I put up two thumbs and have them dancing around in front of us. The vibrations of his chest against my back tell me that he’s laughing at my reaction. I barely have time to catch my breath before he tilts us the other way. We go back into a tailspin, spinning wildly, longer and faster than the last time. I smile so broadly I think my cheeks will crack. The rush is amazing. It’s like I’m stuck in a never-ending squee.
After another couple of minutes, the buildings below slowly come into focus. A strange feeling of sadness takes over as I realize my short time in the air, my time away from all of my worries, is almost over.
The closer we get to the ground, I'm able to identify smaller shapes. I see cars in the
My teacher person tugs on the straps of our parachutes, securing my back tight against his front. We clumsily walk toward the door to the plane, where I look down.
Crap. I shouldn’t have done that. Thirteen thousand feet of frigid nothingness blows in my face. I lower my goggles and allow my instructor to guide me into the proper exit position: arms crossed, gloved hands gripping opposite shoulders, knees bent, feet dangling. The only thing keeping me in the plane is my harness fastened to his. He holds onto the door frame and, with a push and pull, we somersault into the air.
Everything spins rapidly and, for a fraction of a second, I see the underside of our airplane.
FREAKY CHEEKY JAM AND TONSIL EXAM
October 19th, 3:17pm
W e toss , turn and tumble wildly in the air. I don't know which way is up or down; everything is going by so fast. The rush of air in my ears is deafening. A scream tries to escape my throat but can't. Breathing is difficult in this wind, making screaming impossible.
After what seems like an eternity, I feel a tap on my shoulder. It's the signal. I lift my arms out to my sides, my elbows bent. We stabilize, and it no longer feels like we're falling. It's more like we're suspended in space, being pushed up by tremendous gusts of wind. The instructor gives me a thumbs up. Since we can’t hear each other over the wind, this is his way of asking if I’m ok. I respond by showing him a thumbs up, and we continue our fall.
My cheeks are flapping in the wind and I’m thankful I didn’t ask for the video of Gina’s freaky cheeky jam and tonsil exam.
My heart is still up in the plane, and I’m waiting for it to catch up with us. A part of me starts freaking out. We’re supposed to free fall for about a minute before the chute is supposed to open. It feels like five minutes, not one.
Has my instructor passed out?
Are the security devices not working?
Is our main chute broken?
Is our safety chute defective, too?
Oh, shit! I’m going to die! Why do I keep doing stupid stuff like this?
I’m jostled from a horizontal to a vertical position by a painless tug on every strap of my harness and then... silence and calm. The chute opens, the wind dies down, and it's easier to breathe. We’re gently floating.
Breathless, I stare down at the world below.
That was...
That was...
Oh, my GOD! I’m flying! I let out a high pitched squee and kick my feet back and forth.
My instructor navigates as we slowly descend under our canopy. Everything slows, and I can appreciate the view. Long Island is breathtaking, its thickets of green leaves contrasting against the pale sand and vast expanse of surrounding water. It's so peaceful up here.
Suddenly, the canopy dips and we end up on our side, spinning around in circles. We're gaining speed.
I’m about to grip onto my instructor’s arm--something we were specifically told not to do--when the canopy straightens itself again. We're back in a vertical position, floating peacefully once more. Instructor Man shoots another thumbs up sign from behind me and I burst out laughing.
Oh, my God! He did it on purpose!
The guy wiggles his thumbs up in front of my face again waiting for my reply. Giddy, I put up two thumbs and have them dancing around in front of us. The vibrations of his chest against my back tell me that he’s laughing at my reaction. I barely have time to catch my breath before he tilts us the other way. We go back into a tailspin, spinning wildly, longer and faster than the last time. I smile so broadly I think my cheeks will crack. The rush is amazing. It’s like I’m stuck in a never-ending squee.
After another couple of minutes, the buildings below slowly come into focus. A strange feeling of sadness takes over as I realize my short time in the air, my time away from all of my worries, is almost over.
The closer we get to the ground, I'm able to identify smaller shapes. I see cars in the
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