I never intended to be in the situation I found myself in last Sunday, perched on the edge of a plane’s open door at 2 miles above the earth, clipped to a strapping Italian man nicknamed “the Gladiator.”

I blame it on Linda, my boisterous, beautiful buddy. She has long, dark hair that swings close to her waist and a generous mouth that never lacks for a witty, smart comment.  It all started when she ventured down from New York to snag a flight at Wallaby Ranch, the famous hang gliding Mecca outside of Orlando. She also needed to meet up with Mario there, who is a relatively new hang glider pilot.

Mario had offered to help the United States Women’s Hang Gliding Team find accommodations at this year’s World Championships in Italy, since he grew up at the base of Monte Cucco, where they will be held. (Linda and I are on the team, though I am uncertain about going to Monte Cucco for a variety of reasons. She is currently ranked 1^st in the US women; I am ranked 2^nd. We flew together in the World Championships at Quest Air in Florida 2 years ago and have forged a deep friendship.)

Mario and Linda discussed the team accommodations in Italy, and then towed into the sky to hang glide. Linda led Mario to the strong heart of the thermals that would rocket him up near the chilly air nestled close to the base of the clouds, ignoring the fluttering, weak pulses of lift that pilots refer to as “rat doo-doo.”

Mario later told me about their flight at the Redwing Restaurant south of Groveland with a grin stretched across his handsome face. “So many pilots, they talk the big talk, but Linda, she walks the walk. She showed me how to bank my glider. My vario was screaming, going crazy.” (A vario is an instrument that hang glider pilots fly with that beeps when we are in rising air.)

In return for the help that Linda gave him hang gliding, Mario introduced Linda to skydiving at the Florida Skydiving Center in Lake Wales. He is a master of the sport, with thousands of jumps under his canopy. He competes as well as taking others on tandem jumps.

“It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever done,” Linda told me. “I was crying by the time we landed. You should go. You should go with Mario.”

I was snuggled up next to my perfect husband, Paul, as I gazed across our lunchtime coffees (very European, as Linda pointed out) at Mario. I imagined myself clutching him as we tumbled through the nothingness of space.

To my horror, the trip was rapidly put together. Mario emailed me about the preparations, and warned me I should bring Snickers. I didn’t understand why he wanted candy bars, but didn’t want to anger a man that would soon be responsible for my life. I dutifully trudged to the store and bought Snicker’s Bars before getting Linda’s email reminding me that English was Mario’s second language, and that he meant sneakers.

I arrived at the Florida Skydiving Center just after the sun had crawled over the horizon, while the grass was still wet with dew. Due to exhaustion and my calm nature, I had managed to sleep for at least 3 minutes the night before. I was still trembling from a coffee buzz (which I obtained at a local gas station in order to balance my 3 minutes of sleep) when Linda, her boyfriend Mark, and Mario showed up. Paul had a prior obligation and could not come. However, he promised he would not date anyone after I died until at least three weeks had passed.

My first duty was to sign my life away. Eventually, I quit reading the fine print (it highlighted things like death, injury and a total ruination of the rest of my life, should there be one) and just slapped down my initials. Mario changed from his lighthearted self. He gave me a suit to wear, and then snapped on my harness and began to explain what we would do.

My duties were few, but vital. Actually, Mario said that even if I froze and tried to kill him that we would be okay, but I wanted to avoid becoming a Darwin Award Nominee and tried to absorb my lessons. We practiced what we would do before we leapt and how we would check our harnesses and how we would exit the plane.

I needed to look at the propeller, arch my back, and grasp my suit. Mario would thrust us out of the plane. I had other instructions, too. For instance, Mario said he would tap on me when I could lift my arms beside my ears. He said he would wrap his legs around mine during the freefall – over a minute long, at 120 MPH!—and that I should try to not clutch my legs together and make that impossible. He also explained that he would show me his altimeter, and that I should pull our main chute at 6000 feet.

Time began to accelerate, shooting forward without my permission. We were regularly informed of the plane’s arrival. I had been told beforehand by friends that the most dangerous part of skydiving is the ride up, since the jump planes are often unreliable. I was happy to note that it was a fancy, shiny King Air that rolled into view, a machine unlikely to fail.

Mario joked during the flight that he wasn’t really feeling it today. I tried to act cool, unable to enjoy being glued to his lap. In less time than it takes a cat to meow, we had climbed to 11000 feet. I knew we were the last victims out of the plane, but I somehow didn’t expect the unloading process to go so fast. We shuffled on our bottoms towards outer space, periodically watching the people ahead of us plummet from the plane.

The moment arrived, as all moments eventually do.

I ducked into the doorway, nodding, unable to speak.

I grasped my shoulders and I don’t know if I looked forward or not, but suddenly, we had launched. Our bodies shimmied in the turbulence and Mario steadied us. The plane rolled over and dove out of the sky, and Mario pointed to make sure I didn’t miss seeing it.

I had heard skydiving is almost violent, but I had no sensation of falling. I gazed at the earth and ponds and plane, entranced. Mario wrapped his legs around mine and signaled me to open my arms. It only took him two tries before I remembered what he meant.

We spun around and then held still, things Mario accomplished with minor shifts in our position. Out of nowhere, Liz, our videographer appeared, motioning and smiling as if we were lounging in a living room instead of screaming towards the ground at 120 MPH. She even blew a kiss at me. I blew one back, but I didn’t want to move anything but my lips in case it unbalanced Mario, so it didn’t film well.

Mario shoved something to the left of my vision. It took a few moments to register that it was his altimeter. I knew I supposed to pull the chute at 6000 feet but I couldn’t read the altimeter. I wanted to grab it towards my face but I was afraid to shift my position and screw up Mario. I squinted. The earth rushed towards us like a train.

Mario pulled the chute. That meant we had reached 5000 feet and he was saving us. I had failed in my duty. The sail plumed above us in a colorful arc.

Apparently it took us 6 minutes to float down after that, but it seemed to last only a few moments. Mario prepared me for landing, telling me to pull very hard on the chute’s risers when he said to, and to be prepared to run. He told me that enough wind existed that we should try to land on our feet.

He spiraled the glider a couple of times to beat a new skydiver to the ground, so we wouldn’t be in his way, and the ground swelled larger. I leaned forward against my straps and breathed hard and listened for the command to flare the wing. When the command came, I wrenched on the risers, but there was no need to run. I was set down gently, and didn’t even need to walk a step.

I hugged Mario; I kissed the ground. I posed for Linda and Liz, who was still busy filming. It seemed a little odd for time to be passing just as it always had, when something inside me had changed, when the universe had silently shifted without anyone noticing but me.

I was told that my sensation was a common one from sensory overload. It felt more profound to me, though. I felt as if I had gotten to clutch an elusive, magical thing for a few seconds, the wisp of a fabulous dream that was fading fast. That might just have been the caffeine, lack of sleep and adrenaline talking, though! Try it yourself and you’ll see what I mean.

If you decide to add this adventure to your “bucket list,” the Florida Skydiving Center is the ideal place to try it. It’s located in Lake Wales, an easy drive from Orlando and Tampa, mid-way between the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic beaches. It’s the closest Drop Zone to the world famous Orlando Wind Tunnel and the Disney theme parks. 

The folks at the center are friendly and professional, and are determined to make your first skydive safe and memorable. I think no one’s going to have much problem with the memorable part, but their 37 years of experience coupled with their mature attitude and judgment give them a definite advantage in the safety department. Their facility contributes to making your jump safe, as well, since it’s nestled amongst hundreds of acres of open landscape.

They want you have a blast, too! They are constantly improving their facilities, equipment, and training methods to meet this goal.   I don’t see it as an issue. You’re going to have fun –even if you don’t get to strap yourself to Mario!

(There are a few requirements for potential jumpers. For legal reasons and limitations of the gear you must be 18 years of age and weigh less than 230 pounds.  Check out the Florida Skydiving Center here for more details.)