“The hardest part about sky diving is the ground,” instructor Gregory Meyer said.
That quip didn't quite land with me while being strapped into a stiff harness and mentally preparing to jump out of a plane.
Skydiving was always one of those activities that seemed like a fun thing to do but more as a farfetched concept rather than a tangible reality. It’s one of those bucket list items that you never actively pursue, but just saying that you would do it someday is enough of an accomplishment.
I woke up that morning promptly at 4 a.m. to be ready for my 10 a.m. jump. I checked the clock frequently, emotions already running high. Around half-nine, it was finally time. I drove to Sky Dive Amelia Island in dead silence. Don’t think about the fact you'll be plummeting a whopping 10,000 feet off the ground, I told myself while my hands jittered from the coffee I consumed prior to the event.
I’d like to think of myself as somewhat of a fearless person, but pulling up to the center certainly caused me to re-evaluate the validity of this claim. When stepping inside the office, the first thing I noticed were the colorful scribbles that coated the walls from the ceiling to the floor. “Bucket list item achieved!” read one. “Almost threw up, but I did it!” said another.
The entirety of the room was decorated with quotes from previous jumpers. I questioned if I wanted to read them, in case I saw something that would increase my already heightened nerves.
Meyer and his dog, Quinn, greeted me at the door. The face of a loving border collie was exactly what the doctor ordered to settle my mind. I handed over my ID and signed my life away on an IPad prior to getting ready for the flight.
When the pilot and other jumpers arrived, it was time. Meyer strapped me into the harness and explained the procedure for where to position my limbs during the fall. Did you get all that? He asked.
“Yes, got it covered,” I answered reassuringly. In that moment, a silent panic settled in because I did not, in fact, get all that. My brain was too preoccupied to hear anything other than my deafening thoughts.
The Cessna 182 aircraft sat adjacent to the building. We walked over to it like a crew of noble astronomers ready to conquer a space mission. I squeezed myself into the aircraft and looked around at the “cabin.” It was certainly not a United Airlines seat, and suddenly I felt as if I had never flown before.
I crouched into the back of the plane with the two instructors, and one other newbie named Mallory. The instructors passed jokes as I sat there mute, taking in the final moments of sweet stability on the ground as we taxied the runway. Shortly after, the plane ascended leaving Quinn and all of my worries on the tarmac.
I marveled at the sight of the pristine blue water. However familiar I was with the beaches on Amelia Island, seeing them from this vantage point was like seeing the ocean for the first time again.
My eyes were fixated on the shoreline, as we lifted higher and higher off the ground. From this height, we could see the Dames Point Bridge and the skyscrapers from Jacksonville, which now looked like a mere Lego city. At this point, I thought surely we must be at the cruising height. That's when I heard Colorado say, “Halfway there!” I gripped the floor a bit tighter.
It’s difficult to fathom the height of 10,000 feet until you find yourself hanging out of the side of a moving aircraft. At that moment, I had no time to think or chance to back out, just a simple count of three — and I was no longer in the comforts of the plane.
If I could choose one word to describe the feeling of hurdling toward the earth, it would be euphoria. Every ounce of anxiety I had felt on the way faded into the atmosphere around me, and for those 15 seconds of freefall, I felt truly alive.
No more thoughts rushed through my brain, it was just a few minutes of utter stillness. I never could have imagined feeling serene while still waiting for the sound of the parachute opening to reassure me I wasn’t actually dying.
I had barely noticed when it did open. I was enamored by the vast pine forests, thick marshes and the sunlight dancing off of the coast.
The city that I have come to know so well felt like a brand-new place.
My bliss was only momentarily interrupted by a feeling of nausea that took over when we spun around on the come down. I was still too high on adrenaline to care.
I waved down to my coworker waiting below while we gracefully landed in the grass. When it was over, I felt like a kid at a carnival ride and all I wanted to do was go again.
Back in the skydiving office, I scribbled down the best quote I could think of while my heart rate was still regulating to a normal speed.
“Anything for a good story”
- Marisa DeMar, News-Leader, 2025