Why the hell would I want a strange man strapped to my ass during one of the most intimate moments of my life? And if I was interested in something like that, why would I even consider paying him? Shouldn’t taking part in a guy’s “first time” be payment enough? So what if this stranger is a so-called “expert” at what he does? It’s not exactly rocket science, you know. Basically, the dude’s just along for the ride. If you start freaking out in the middle, (as some first-timers do) he can gently ease you into the proper positions for maximum enjoyment. That’s what they tell you. I think they’re just doing it for their own cheap thrills, and the extra cash.

Many first-timers opt for a “tandem jump” at their local sky diving facility. It allows you to hop out of a plane and freefall for almost a minute before opening your parachute on your first attempt. It doesn’t require extensive training or particular courage because the whole time, you have a big man attached to your rear with a set of unbreakable straps. This strapping fellow does the jumping, the steering while falling, the chute opening, the landing and most of the thinking. So why in the world would I want that?

As it happens, death and the fear of it are responsible for some of the best times of my life. Facing one’s mortality is a tremendous rush…well, okay that’s not entirely true. It’s scary as hell and your body’s natural mechanisms do everything in their power to stop you from doing something that will put an end to their function. The rush of euphoria, joy and excitement come moments after you realize that something potentially lethal didn’t kill you.

I like to call that moment, “a burst of living” as it is the polar opposite of “la petite mort.” In case you don’t know, that’s the French expression for the feeling of melancholy one experiences just after a sexual orgasm. It’s sort of like dying a little inside after experiencing one of the best things in life. Well, “a burst of living” is that sensational realization that you’re still alive after coming close to death.

My point is, life and death moments are very personal. Some people shit their pants when they face death. Others vomit (like Condors, for instance). Some people may get such excitement from participating in their own destruction, that they orgasm. These are all perfectly natural bodily functions that most wouldn’t want a stranger around for…except maybe that last one.

So the few times I went skydiving in my past, I opted for a “static line jump.” This is a process by which non-experienced jumpers learn the ropes of leaping on their own. The sharper among you will understand that I used a clever pun in that last sentence because “static line” refers to a rope which pulls your parachute out of its packing for you. For this to happen, you need to learn some basics. After a training period, jumpers go up in small groups on a single-engine propeller plane. They then attach their static lines to the craft, climb out onto one of the wing, let go of the plane and hope for the best.

Jumping from 3,000 feet in the air, you have about 15 seconds to either untangle it or open your spare, should your primary chute fail to open properly. Otherwise, your jump turns into a bounce. After logging a number of successful jumps, you move to higher altitudes and eventually begin free-falling on your own. Working your way up to this point seems like a far more rewarding way to go about tempting fate.

Much as I try, I couldn’t convey in words the feelings I got from that experience. The monumental terror that streaks through your body when the jump signal is given is soon replaced by a Zen-like acceptance that today might be the day you die. The adrenaline fueled determination while holding tight to the wing. Those few seconds of desperate uncertainty as you let go of the plane, make way for a crashing wave of exhilaration when the parachute pops open. From there, it’s a gentle coasting back to Earth as the green surface rushes up to welcome you back.

If you’re curious about jumping from planes, I can tell you this: At the time I went, a “static line jump” would cost $200 the first time (which included a five hour class, equipment, and plane ride). Each additional jump was only $20. So for about $400, you could work your way up to independent free-fall and experience about 11 jumps. The “tandem jump” price was about $250. It required only a two hour class, but would cost another $250 if you wanted to go again.

In my opinion, tandem jumpers aren’t getting the full sky diving experience. The extra person attached to me would just be a damper to all the fun. Plus, there’s the other stuff to think about. Do you really want to chance dying with this person you never met before? Even if you do survive, do you want your memory tainted by the garlic breath, body odor or possible erection of your jump buddy? I know I don’t.

-King 0f New York