Shhh!  You’re reading too loudly.

 

That’s better.

 

I’m thinking, actually making plans, about going skydiving.  Again.  It’s been many, too many years.

 

First time on the DZ (drop zone), I had gone there with a couple of work buddies (Wayne and Johnny) from UPS. Wayne was a hard-rocker party-type who liked to play practical jokes.  Johnny, on the other hand, was a macho sort of hillbilly guy, somewhat naïve but full of bravado.  Johnny was truly unique in his raw but amusing mannerisms.  One time while reading a book on break (I always did), Johnny grabbed the book out of my hands, flipped through all the pages, and sincerely remarked: “How can you read a book with no pictures in it?”  On other occasions, you could find Johnny during lunch break out in the parking lot doing stand-up motorcycle tricks on his bike—or sitting on his bike backwards and riding it—all to the applause of the crowd that would gather to watch his antics.  Johnny was also the one who sold me the compound bow that I was one day to master (and still have), warning me at the solemn moment of the transfer of ownership that “If you ever shoot anybody with this, shoot well and don’t leave him suffering.”  Anyway, we all decided on one off-day Saturday in the autumn to bike out to the Cleveland Parachuting Club and fall to Earth.  None of us had done it before so it was a communally virgin adventure.

 

Of course, we all just wanted to just get there, hop on a plane, and jump.  But the club required first that an initiate undergo preliminary training and display a sense of responsibility about what was intended to occur.  Most of the training consisted of lectures and watching movies, but the most critical component of the training was practicing impacting the ground and rolling properly.  After demonstrating by jumping from a low platform (about 3 feet high) how to hit the ground with bent knees, roll and break one’s fall over five successive contact points (feet, knee , hip, shoulder, then other shoulder), the instructor had each of us do the same.

 

Wayne and I did just fine.  But when it cam to Johnny’s turn, Johnny protested to the instructor that he couldn’t do it.

 

“Why not?” the instructor inquired.

 

“Because I’ll hurt myself,” said Johnny.

 

“No you won’t,” the instructor assured. “Your buddies did it and they’re fine.  Just give it a try.”

 

“You don’t understand,” explained Johnny, “I’m wearing things that will hurt me if I fall.”

 

“What things?” asked the instructor.

 

And of course, since Johnny was a demonstrative kind of guy, his response was both a tell-and-show. 

 

“See here,” raising his left pants leg and revealing a bowie knife.  “And here,” pulling brass knuckles out of his pocket.  “And here,” pulling up his sleeve and disclosing a black jack strapped to his arm.

 

The instructor was aghast. “What the hell are you intending to do with all these weapons?” he asked in a shaken voice.

 

“Well,” Johnny responded, squaring off and looking directly into the instructor’s eyes, “when I get up there, if I don’t want to jump, you ain’t going to make me.”

 

ha  ha  ha—Wayne and I just burst out laughing.  Even the instructor was chuckling while assuring Johnny that he wouldn’t need the weapons since no one was going to force him to jump.  Johnny did, with our encouragement, put his weapons aside and practice his fall.  And after he passed the exercise grandly, we all suited up in our parachutes, headed

out, and boarded the plane.

 

Johnny said nothing in the air, until the instructor gave us the signal to jump and I asked him if he was going. 

 

“Well, I didn’t just come up here to fly around in the sky,” deadpanned Johnny.  “Besides, I don’t want to stay in this plane with this instructor one more minute than I have, too—I don’t trust him and I think he’s going to crash.”

 

And so we all jumped.

 

Breathtaking freedom!  Moments to never forget.

 

Once back upon the ground, we were all kick-ass celebrant at having completed our first jump, but Johnny was the most excited of all.  Running up to me like a little kid all-aglitter with excitement he couldn’t contain, he rusticly exclaimed: “You know, I’ve never been on a plane that I haven’t jumped out of.”

 

Wayne and I convulsed in belly laughter.  Johnny had said it all.