The next sterling submission to the Open Book Toronto project is now up!
When I was young and marginally more stupid than I am now – ah, those heady days of youth, how fleeting they seem now to this aged mind! – I took a one-day course in skydiving. Well, parachuting, really, as you have to work your way up to skydiving freefall. Signing up, I had visions of every WWII movie I’ve ever seen; a lineup of eager recruits by the gaping door of a transit plane, each jumping out headlong into the endless abyss. Wheee!
The truth, unsurprisingly, was more mundane, and far more terrifying. Myself and two companions were walked through the basics of elementary parachute jumping, including (and this was quite a surprise to me) that one does not simply cannonball out an open door, but must instead walk out under the wing(!) and stand on the wheel, wait for the count by the instructor (who is holding the ripcord himself), and then let go, arch the back, count to five, and look over the shoulder to make sure the ‘chute has opened correctly.