To air is human, to dive is divine

Over the past few years, I've long jumped, high jumped, bungee jumped and cliff jumped.
I've skied on water and snow, asked a pro golfer to marry me (she said no) and danced the Macarena in a giant moose costume while carolers sang "Hark the Herald Angels Sing."
After all that, I figured it was about time to stop fooling around and get serious about my life.
So I went skydiving.
I went with my friend Denny to Skydive Rick's in Petersburg last Thursday. Denny had just graduated from medical school and decided that the best way to use his $200,000 education was to jump out of a plane. (Actually, it was a gift from his brother, Doug.)
As soon as we walked in the doors, I started getting the shakes.
"This costs $155?" I asked, nearly passing out.
But I gathered myself, wrote the check -- slowly -- and after that, I was fine.
Fear factor
You might think the scariest thing about skydiving is the jump. You'd be wrong. It's filling out the forms. The best thing to do is mindlessly sign and initial without actually reading anything.
Sample line: "Skydiving is an ultra hazardous activity with a real risk of personal injury, death or property damage." (I especially like the last one. Death I can handle. But a broken watch? Oh the horror.)
We were going to be tandem jumping (solo jumping requires a six-hour course) and our instructors were Bob and Jimmy.
We asked the normal questions: What are the chances of dying? (Minuscule.) Has anyone ever died here? (No.) Have either of you ever died? (No.) Has anyone ever backed out? (No.) Has anyone ever wet their pants or thrown up? (Yes.) Which is more common? (Throwing up.)
They went over some basic stuff. We were going to be dropping 11,000 feet (about two miles) and the most important things for us to do were arch, steer and land. (I disagreed. I figured that since we were going to land either way, the most important thing is for us to pray that the parachute opened.)
The major thing was to arch. Arching is very important. Arch, arch, arch.
"The best tandems are when I can feel your feet on my butt," Bob said.
Thanks. Great visual.
We put on our jumpsuits and harnesses. (Quick note: make sure the leg harnesses are not too tight, lest you experience major discomfort in the, ahem, groin area. Unfortunately, I figured this out after I jumped.)
Then, just before leaving, we posed for a picture.
"Hey, this is like Top Gun," Denny said.
Who's Maverick?
"I'm Maverick, and you're Goose," he said.
Didn't Goose die?
"Yes."
Oh.
Magic moment
The plane ride up takes about 30 minutes, which leaves plenty of time to think about death. I could almost picture the headlines. "Talented, good-looking sportswriter dies in skydiving accident. Women, Sports Illustrated editors mourn loss."
It also gives you time to ask your instructors questions. How many times have you done this? (Lots.) Are you nervous about having my life in your hands? (No.) Have you ever strapped a snowboard to your feet and done tricks like they do on ESPN?
"No," Bob said. "That would be dangerous."
Right. That would be dangerous.
The actual jump happens pretty quickly. They open the door, you lean out and jump. Aside from not arching and not breathing, I did fine. And I didn't die, which was a big plus.
Not only that, I got a column out of it. Which goes to show you I'm stupid and lazy.
Now I just need to talk my boss into reimbursing me.
XJoe Scalzo is a sportswriter for The Vindicator. Write him at scalzo@vindy.com.