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Would you jump out of an aeroplane?

November 14th, 2007

There are times when faced with a barrage of seemingly innocuousquestionsfrom a child, you know, questions of the “why is there a hole in a donut?” sort. One just answers: Just because! Delivered with a stern look forbidding further interrogation and with a little luck, you would be let off the hook. The child wallows in ignorance and you get a brief respite before another onslaught of difficult questioning.

There are many questions we do not have answers for. Difficult questions, questions you do not care to answer because the answers may lead to places you do not want to go. So there are times one just does things because they feel right and leave the psychoanalysisto jobless people.

My sister called me up and in passing told me my brother had just jumped out of a plane. I went wow! Immediately, I called him up for details and it happens that there is a place in Cambridgeshire England, where for a not inconsiderable fee, you can jump in tandem with an experienced parachutist (skydiver may be better) (if there exists such a word) out of a plane.

I knew I would do it, I did not know why or when but I knew I would.

A few weeks later, in the course of a trip out for work, I looked up the website of the North London Parachute Centre and with a deposit of £50 from my long suffering MasterCard I made a booking for two weeks later. The work now was to find a way not to tell the people I know would insist on discouraging this frankly foolhardy pursuit.

To a large extent, I succeeded but I told my wife about it…..well obliquely anyhow. She surmised I had lost my mind and predictably promised to convene a family meeting on the issue. I resorted to the time-tested stratagem of a tactical retreat. I conceded everything. “Me? Jump? See this girl. I was just testing you” I mean can you offer good reasons for jumping out of a plane three kilometers over the fields of East Anglia? Neither can I.

So my only co conspirator and enabler was my brother, Deji. We planned with precision. Consulting train timetables, one had to get there as early as possible to get a good chance of jumping on the day. Looking up weather forecasts, you can only jump in good weather. It is illegal and unsafe to jump out of the plane if you cannot see where you intend to land. Duh! So weather is a big constraint.

Set my alarm for 5.30 in the morning and went to sleep. After a three and a half hour train and taxi journey I arrived. The place did not look like much. An airfield that looked like an old farmstead surrounded by farms that were still being worked. Knowing from the brochure that it would be first come first served, I rushed to the reception to register. Alas, I was 20th on the list for the day. Well, it was just 9 am and the weather was perfect if cold. No wind and a clear blue sky.

After mispronouncing my name several times, we started off with an introduction to jumping and a short training describing jump procedure. I was out in a group with one elderly onyibo lady and a group of Polish friends. As we were led into the briefing room, I could not feel any apprehension or anxiety. Maybe a little misgiving. when faced with the
cost of this lark. All told, along with the optional DVD recording of your jump
it would come to an amount I knew I would have to keep secret.

What their brochure did not say but was plastered conspicuously around the
facility was that you really had no real idea when you would jump. My brother had warned me that it would be a whole day affair but I thought I would have it done and dusted by 3pm.

I was very wrong. By 3pm I had seen about 5 sets of jumps and it was really a thing to see but neither my new friend, one onyibo chap who was given the jump as a birthday gift by his girlfriend nor I, had jumped and the weather had now changed. Very dark clouds had come in from the east and the wind had picked up. The jumps were suspended.

The frustrating part of the day had begun in earnest. The sky was covered with thick dark clouds and there was no silver lining anywhere. Maybe this was my wife’s doing. I was sure she had conspired with the forces of nature to deny me my jump. 4pm……5pm……..…nothing. The sky was even darker. Although, one had the option of rebooking and jumping another day the cost of getting there and other unseen forces seemed to me to mean that I may not jump again. I was getting desperate. I went to meet their Oga to ask for a prognosis for jumping that day or my money back…..babas on both counts. I quickly played my Nigerian card. “Oga, see I don’t live here and as you don’t jump in winter, my money may be lost” I protested.

People started leaving. There were just a few of us desperados left. The Oga comes back to me and says I would lose £75 from my fee if the jump did not happen today and I still wanted my money back. ‘Hmmm….you never hala’ I thought.

This is not how I had seen it O! I called my brother in resignation. He offered some comfort. It was 6 pm and I had not jumped. I was 120 miles from London and it was getting dark…..and cold. Na wah for this British weather. I went in to the see the Oga to make arrangements for a transfer of my ticket and then leave when he said wait. Wait ke! Abi we will still jump.

YES! We will.

So it begins, rapid fire, the instructors come in to give a quick refresh of the jump procedure, I am introduced to Gary my tandem jump guide. A chap in his early 40’s I guess. He tells me later he has jumped 7200 times! I think to myself his mother must have had him in a plane and tossed him out with a parachute to have done so many. I suit up. Sky blue overalls, headgear, goggles and gloves. I fancied myself looking like Tom Cruise in “Top Gun” We stand in line next to our guides, there about 6 of us waiting for tandem Jumps. If you want the jump filmed an extra jumper comes along with a camera on his helmet. The twin engine prop-plane starts up and taxis menacingly towards us. The smell of kerosene fills the air.

Gary checks my kit again and goes over the instructions. Remember. Banana shaped is how you want to be. Face up into the camera. Back arched. Legs within his and bent backwards and whatever you do DO NOT grab the guide’s hands. We march towards the plane. I can’t think. The engines are incredibly loud and the harness digs into my thighs and shoulders. We are set to jump second. Gary ordered me to sit between his legs then he attached his harness to mine. Other people clamber in. The cabin is bare.

We sit on the floor in two rows with the person in front sitting between your legs. The way you would in a police cell in Lagos….at least that’s what they tell me.

We are set for take off. The plane’s door is still open. The camera guys take shots of the ground as we take off then the door is shut. I put on a brave face but I’m I sure look glum. My camera guy takes a few more shots of me. We start a steep climb to 12000 feet. More instructions. I am to sit on Gary’s lap when the time comes. He would then inch towards
the door.

I will stretch my legs out of the plane and bend them backwards. Gary tightens my goggles. We break the clouds. Sunset. The cabin floods with light. Are you alright? Gary asks for the third time. I shout yes, over the din from the engines, for the third time, a little unconvincingly this time though. I manage a double thumbs up. I still can’t think. I try to run the jump procedure through my mind again.

Buzzer ring. You know like those World War Two films. The plane banks to the left. Gary taps my shoulder. The show is on. The door is flung open. Air rushes in. The camera jumpers position. The tandem jumper in front of us creeps forward. His camera man jumps. They jump. Whoosh!

Our turn. We creep forward. Banana shape Banana shape. Remember! I see the lights of the video camera come on. Smile for the camera. The wind roar is deafening. My legs are out of the plane. The plane buffets. I am not sure anymore o! We jump! Even now, as I write this the adrenaline comes rushing back. I feel some panic. Banana shape! We plummet headlong at 200kph. DO NOT grab his hands! I scream with all my might. Don’t forget to breathe. The screaming helps. The panic subsides. Gary taps me. Head back, he indicates. Smile for the camera. Stretch out your hands. Wind roar! Gary starts a spin. Vertigo. Smile for the camera! Thumbs up. How does this camera jumper keep pace with us. Spin again. I am touching clouds. Clouds! Camera guy disappears towards the ground. Gary taps me. The wind roar is deafening. Gary releases the main chute. We jerk violently upwards. The harness digs deeper into me. Canopy deploys. Silence. I stop screaming. Silence. Not a sound. I start to whoop! I can hear myself for the first time since leaving the plane. Very strange this silence.

We break through the clouds. We can see the ground. Daylight is fading. I have never felt this kind of exhilaration. My mind is reeling. Still 5000 feet up. Gary asks if I want to do a few spirals. He works the directional controls of the canopy so we spin sharply giving a 360 degree view of the countryside and inducing strong feelings of nausea. Imagine me depositing my lunch of pounded yam and banga soup all over the English countryside.

We are coming down slowly now. Gary and I are chatting. We go through the procedure for landing again. This is the most dangerous part of the jump. Raise your legs up and land gliding on your bum otherwise you could snap your ankles like a twig. And that’s what we do. Land. With very little drama. The camera guy is down waiting on the ground. Wow! Gary releases the harness. I jump up. Screaming again. Hugging Gary. Shaking camera guy’s hand. Pose for pics.

I am awash with adrenaline. We get off the airfield. I change back into my clothes. I still feel wonderful. From take off to landing it took all of 30 minutes. Its 7pm. I got here at 9 in the morning. Call up my brother. He says I told you. I say you did.

What is the moral of the story? That’s it. There is no moral. There is nothing to explain. The people that will debate it will. Could the money have been better spent? Probably. Is it a risk-free proposition? No. Would I do it again? That’s a trick question, abi?

Why did I do it? Just because.

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