Hello there. Yes, I’m fine now. I admit that I spent the better part of the first thousand feet screaming like a prison rape victim, but I am really feeling a little better about this whole thing now. I’m not pleased by any means, don’t get me wrong. There comes a time, just after terminal velocity apparently, that you enter into a gradual acceptance of your situation. Oh, I’m sure I will begin freaking out like an idiot for the last few hundred feet. I have a feeling that will really bring it home for me, once I see the ground rushing towards me.
How did I get here? Funny story actually. I had been sitting at the airport bar for a solid two hours prior to the flight, and I horribly misjudged the amount of time it would take to reach the gate prior to boarding time. So there I was, bladder full of what could formerly be called pale ale, rushing like an idiot with my two carry-ons toward the less than hospitable gate worker. By the time we had taxied and taken flight, my bladder to the point of bursting. I rushed to the back of the plane and in my haste I apparently opened the wrong door. I know, there are safety features which prevent this kind of thing. Well, apparently along with the new mandatory checked baggage fee, United has also instated a “safety feature” fee. In hindsight, it would have been better to just cough up the $15. I guess that’s what irony is for…huh? Oh, about the bathroom. No, the sheer velocity with which I was whisked from the plane combined with the frigid air temperature took care of that little issue. Frankly, my pants dried pretty quickly, what with the wind and all.
This event has given me pause for introspection. I have come up with several truths, which I would love to share with someone if I weren’t hurtling towards my immediate death. For example, I think that there are very few nouns which you would like to be used to describe yourself following the word “accidental”…”skydiver” certainly being one of them. I know that some people put skydiving high on their list of things to do before they die. I suppose I can take great satisfaction in the fact that I am crossing that off my list. Not that it was ever on my list. I would have preferred some more relaxing activities. You know, with less screaming. Maybe watching a sunset on a beach would be nice. I am almost certain that there would be less screaming doing that, unless you had some disorder where you screamed all the time for no reason. But I think that even then it would be rather pleasant.
It shouldn’t be long now. I am beginning to make out some shapes on the ground. I can’t tell if that is a school below me or not. That probably wouldn’t be very pleasant, unless I can somehow scream out “I’m Superman and I’m very drunk” just prior to impact. That would be pretty funny, although I really don’t think I would be able to get it all out. I would probably smack down right after “I’m Super…” and people would just think “My, that doomed man was quite the arrogant asshole”. That is not the last impression I want to leave. That is, not counting the one I am inevitably going to leave in the ground. I think that goes without saying, however.
How did I get here? Funny story actually. I had been sitting at the airport bar for a solid two hours prior to the flight, and I horribly misjudged the amount of time it would take to reach the gate prior to boarding time. So there I was, bladder full of what could formerly be called pale ale, rushing like an idiot with my two carry-ons toward the less than hospitable gate worker. By the time we had taxied and taken flight, my bladder to the point of bursting. I rushed to the back of the plane and in my haste I apparently opened the wrong door. I know, there are safety features which prevent this kind of thing. Well, apparently along with the new mandatory checked baggage fee, United has also instated a “safety feature” fee. In hindsight, it would have been better to just cough up the $15. I guess that’s what irony is for…huh? Oh, about the bathroom. No, the sheer velocity with which I was whisked from the plane combined with the frigid air temperature took care of that little issue. Frankly, my pants dried pretty quickly, what with the wind and all.
This event has given me pause for introspection. I have come up with several truths, which I would love to share with someone if I weren’t hurtling towards my immediate death. For example, I think that there are very few nouns which you would like to be used to describe yourself following the word “accidental”…”skydiver” certainly being one of them. I know that some people put skydiving high on their list of things to do before they die. I suppose I can take great satisfaction in the fact that I am crossing that off my list. Not that it was ever on my list. I would have preferred some more relaxing activities. You know, with less screaming. Maybe watching a sunset on a beach would be nice. I am almost certain that there would be less screaming doing that, unless you had some disorder where you screamed all the time for no reason. But I think that even then it would be rather pleasant.
It shouldn’t be long now. I am beginning to make out some shapes on the ground. I can’t tell if that is a school below me or not. That probably wouldn’t be very pleasant, unless I can somehow scream out “I’m Superman and I’m very drunk” just prior to impact. That would be pretty funny, although I really don’t think I would be able to get it all out. I would probably smack down right after “I’m Super…” and people would just think “My, that doomed man was quite the arrogant asshole”. That is not the last impression I want to leave. That is, not counting the one I am inevitably going to leave in the ground. I think that goes without saying, however.
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