When I got to the airport the first thing they did (after taking my money) was to pair me up with someone to make the jump with. When you jump tandem you are harnessed to a jump instructor (as if they were standing directly behind you) and they wear the parachutes and do all the work. All you have to do is go along for the ride like a baby hanging from a chest pouch. Because I weigh just a bit more than 210 pounds (mostly muscle, I assure you) I had to pay a bit extra. I thought initially that this was because I would have to be paired up with someone as big or bigger than me, so I was pretty happy when it looked I was going to get paired up with a guy who was taller and bulkier than I am. He walked over to me though, sized me up, and turned to the scheduler and said "No way, if he and I went together we'd break the sound barrier in free fall. See if Matt's free."
Apparently the reason that it costs more the heavier you are is because there is a max weight limit per canopy of 500 pounds. This restricts the pairings that people my size can make (over 230 and you can't do tandem at all). Matt walked over, sized me up, and asked me how tall I was. I told him 6' 4", and he said "Me too". Here are a few pictures of Matt helping me get suited up so you can enjoy the humor of his response:
Once I was properly suited up in the gayest possible jumpsuit, Matt sat me down and went over the rules, which consisted mostly of me trying not to crawl into the fetal position during freefall and making sure I kept my feet out of the way.
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After a good deal of waiting, it was time to jump. Matt and I loaded up in the rickety old plane (I assure you that it's even more a piece of shit than it looks in this picture) and after another tandem couple joined us started taxiing down the runway.
As I was trying to figure out why I wasn't the least bit nervous anymore (I had been figuratively shitting my pants all morning, but was strangly calm at go time), the other tandem jumper freaked out and insisted on getting out of the plane. So we taxied back to the loading zone, let them out, and then taxied back to the end of the runway. Matt seemed a bit concerned that I was going to change my mind after the other dude lost it, but I was getting more and more excited and less and less nervous.
It took about 15 minutes to get to the 13,000 feet altitude that we would jump from. I was strapped to Matt, sitting right next to the door of the plane, which was open like we were in some sort of crazy flying UPS truck. The view was wonderful, it was perfect weather, and Connecticut was greener than I'd ever seen it. When it came time to jump, we scooted over to the door until I was literally hanging out the side of the airplane, not touching anything except Matt via the harnesses binding us together. He sat on the edge of the door with his feet hanging off the side.
Then he pushed off and we started falling to the Earth.
The first few seconds were absolutely terrifying. We were tumbling (I don't know if it was head over heels or sideways) and all I could see was BLUE / GREEN / BLUE / GREEN until I closed my eyes and remembered to arch my back and tuck my legs between Matt's. This straightened us out, and we fell towards the ground on our stomachs. Free fall lasted 45 seconds, and we were travelling through the air at 130 miles per hour. In that time we travelled about 3/4 of the way to the ground from the plane - over a mile and a half. Matt popped the chute, and it took a few seconds to fully deploy - making me wonder just briefly if it was tangled and not going to open at all. Once fully extended, I settled down into my harness and we coasted along on the breeze, hearing nothing but the rustling of the canopy above us and my hoots and hollers. Matt joined me in yelling in joy and pure adrenaline, I swear he was as excited as I was despite having already made thousands of jumps himself.
We floated Earth-ward for about 5 minutes, and during that time Matt let me steer us in huge accelerated swoops and loops that brought us almost horizontal with the chute. Each loop sent my heart racing again - the adrenaline rush from accelerating into each swoop was the same as when you crank back the throttle on a speed bike and go from 80 to 130 in less than a second. But in this case you are dangling hundeerds of feet above the ground.
The entire time it was nearly impossible to detect the speed of our descent because we were too high in the air to have a good frame of reference to judge distance with. A few hundred feet up though the ground started to really move towards us, and that's when Matt guided us into a sloping and gentle descent into the landing field, where we skidded to a stop on our butts.
I swear Matt was as excited as I was - we both jumped up and he knuckled punched me (the terrorist handshake, if you watch Fox News) and then grabbed me in a big bear hug. We both were practically jumping up and down with excitement, but calmed enough to pose for a picture to commemorate the occasion:
I kind of look like I am peeing myself in that picture, don't I? I wasn't though - just happy as hell and my heart was pounding out of my chest (and would continue to do so for about a half hour after - the rush of adrenaline made me want to fuck something and punch something simultaneously). I am so glad I braved up enough to actually make the jump. I don't need to do it again ever, but also wouldn't hesitate if given the chance.