We free-fell 8,500 feet, about the equivalent of jumping off Half Dome. We free-fell for 60 seconds, which is longer than it takes to order, receive and pay for a Whopper combo meal. We laughed, screamed and spun 720s, all at 120 mph. I fell like an octopus from a cliff, arms and legs flailing madly. And behind me poor Billy was trying to keep us from flipping upside down like a fat Wallenda.
I don't know how it is in our nation's incarceration facilities, but it's the most fun I've ever had with a man clamped on my back.
And somewhere between flashing the Wu-Tang sign at the video camera and hugging the fat lady, I realized that skydiving with the Golden Knights is not a death wish at all. It's a life wish.
Still, I had one small thing to discuss with Billy after we came to our sweet stand-up landing.
"Billy!" I asked, laughing and peeling the billowing chute off my head. "Didn't you hear me say, 'No!' "
"Ohhhh!" Billy grinned. "I thought you said, 'Go!' "
Love that lug.