center of his small chest, watching for the magic number: 10,000 feet, the altitude at which they would jump. It would take the plane roughly twenty minutes to reach that height.
"Hey Dix," Conway said calmly, like everything was great. His voice carried over the headset, catching the, attention of Evans and the cameraman.
"Take in deep, controlled breaths, Dix. In and out, nice and slow."
"I'm fine," Dixon replied, his voice cracking. His head was bent over the altimeter.
Evans clamped his hand on Dixon's shoulder in a show of camaraderie.
"It's okay to be nervous. My first time, hell, I thought I was going to shit myself." Evans and the cameraman laughed.
"Do the deep breathing and you'll be fine."
Dixon nodded and then went to work on his breathing, taking slow and steady deep breaths. After a few minutes, the wired energy in his eyes abated. The tension melted out of his shoulders and his grip on the seat loosened. His face didn't look as pale. He seemed relaxed. Now all Conway had to do was to get Dixon through the next hurdle.
Twenty minutes later, the plane leveled off. Conway looked at his altimeter. 10,000 feet. Time to jump.
"Show time," Evans said, unbuckling his seat belt.
Dixon would be performing a tandem jump. With Evans attached to Dixon's back, they would jump out of the plane together and free fall for roughly ten minutes. Using his headset, Evans would talk to Dixon, telling him how to tuck in his legs and where to place his arms to increase wind resistance. At roughly 6,000 feet, Evans would pull the cord and deploy the chute.
The tandem jump was the way to go. You had the built-in security of having a professional jumper attached to your back. If Dix got sick or blacked out, Evans would be in total control. This was a much more appealing route than what Conway had performed for his first jump, the static line jump. With only a line attached to his chute, he stood at the jump door, his knees turning to jelly, the harness wrapped around his chest that had felt so tight on the ground now feeling loose and flimsy, his twenty-one years of life in control of what seemed like a piece of string. Conway couldn't remember how he had managed to jump, but when he did, he had blacked out for a good three seconds. The next thing he knew, the parachute had deployed, whoosh!" and with a hard yank he was sent back up into the sky where he finally leveled off and then sailed toward the ground. When his feet hit the grass, the adrenaline rush flooded his brain with such a high that he felt invincible, in full control of his life and thoughts, like one of those maniacal Tony Robbins disciples who walk barefoot over a bed of hot coals and emerge unscathed at the other side, jubilant and victorious.
With any luck, that's how Dix would feel today, and the disc exchange at the Austin airport would go smoothly.
Evans talked as he made the final attachments to Dixon's harness.
"Let's go through our checklist. When you jump, what's the first thing you're going to do?"
"Tuck my legs back like I'm trying to touch my butt with my feet. Keep my body loose and relaxed, like Gumby," Dixon said.
"Right. Now for the most important question: If you're in the air and have to blow chunks, what are you going to do?"
"I'm not going to puke."
"But if you have to, what's the plan?"
"Tuck my chin under my armpit."
"My man. How you feeling?"
"Nervous. A little light-headed."
"That's the adrenaline. It's going to make everything seem really vivid and intense. This is going to be the biggest rush of your life."
The pilot signaled Evans.
"Time to rock and roll. You ready?"
Dixon swallowed hard, nodded.
"Okay then, let's do it," Evans said, and then reached across Dixon's waist and slid the door open.
Air filled with the roar of the plane's engines rushed into the cabin, pushing Dixon away from the door. He grabbed each side of the door frame and steadied himself, his elbows bent, his eyes wide and unblinking behind the
"Hey Dix," Conway said calmly, like everything was great. His voice carried over the headset, catching the, attention of Evans and the cameraman.
"Take in deep, controlled breaths, Dix. In and out, nice and slow."
"I'm fine," Dixon replied, his voice cracking. His head was bent over the altimeter.
Evans clamped his hand on Dixon's shoulder in a show of camaraderie.
"It's okay to be nervous. My first time, hell, I thought I was going to shit myself." Evans and the cameraman laughed.
"Do the deep breathing and you'll be fine."
Dixon nodded and then went to work on his breathing, taking slow and steady deep breaths. After a few minutes, the wired energy in his eyes abated. The tension melted out of his shoulders and his grip on the seat loosened. His face didn't look as pale. He seemed relaxed. Now all Conway had to do was to get Dixon through the next hurdle.
Twenty minutes later, the plane leveled off. Conway looked at his altimeter. 10,000 feet. Time to jump.
"Show time," Evans said, unbuckling his seat belt.
Dixon would be performing a tandem jump. With Evans attached to Dixon's back, they would jump out of the plane together and free fall for roughly ten minutes. Using his headset, Evans would talk to Dixon, telling him how to tuck in his legs and where to place his arms to increase wind resistance. At roughly 6,000 feet, Evans would pull the cord and deploy the chute.
The tandem jump was the way to go. You had the built-in security of having a professional jumper attached to your back. If Dix got sick or blacked out, Evans would be in total control. This was a much more appealing route than what Conway had performed for his first jump, the static line jump. With only a line attached to his chute, he stood at the jump door, his knees turning to jelly, the harness wrapped around his chest that had felt so tight on the ground now feeling loose and flimsy, his twenty-one years of life in control of what seemed like a piece of string. Conway couldn't remember how he had managed to jump, but when he did, he had blacked out for a good three seconds. The next thing he knew, the parachute had deployed, whoosh!" and with a hard yank he was sent back up into the sky where he finally leveled off and then sailed toward the ground. When his feet hit the grass, the adrenaline rush flooded his brain with such a high that he felt invincible, in full control of his life and thoughts, like one of those maniacal Tony Robbins disciples who walk barefoot over a bed of hot coals and emerge unscathed at the other side, jubilant and victorious.
With any luck, that's how Dix would feel today, and the disc exchange at the Austin airport would go smoothly.
Evans talked as he made the final attachments to Dixon's harness.
"Let's go through our checklist. When you jump, what's the first thing you're going to do?"
"Tuck my legs back like I'm trying to touch my butt with my feet. Keep my body loose and relaxed, like Gumby," Dixon said.
"Right. Now for the most important question: If you're in the air and have to blow chunks, what are you going to do?"
"I'm not going to puke."
"But if you have to, what's the plan?"
"Tuck my chin under my armpit."
"My man. How you feeling?"
"Nervous. A little light-headed."
"That's the adrenaline. It's going to make everything seem really vivid and intense. This is going to be the biggest rush of your life."
The pilot signaled Evans.
"Time to rock and roll. You ready?"
Dixon swallowed hard, nodded.
"Okay then, let's do it," Evans said, and then reached across Dixon's waist and slid the door open.
Air filled with the roar of the plane's engines rushed into the cabin, pushing Dixon away from the door. He grabbed each side of the door frame and steadied himself, his elbows bent, his eyes wide and unblinking behind the
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