Several years ago, I happened to remark to Jessica that upon my thirtieth birthday I'd like to just go crazy and either purchase an accordion so that I can play for quarters during lunch, or jump out of an airplane. After deciding that the accordion option was actually too dangerous, she made a phone-call to Skydive Hollister and set us up. Having mentioned our plans to many of our friends and loved ones, we had heard comments regarding the relative stupidity-danger-insanity and cliché-ridden excess of my desire and her willingness to join me in fulfilling it. I began asking around and discovered that a few acquaintances had in fact previously pulled off the same silly stunt and had lived to tell about it, and each told us, to paraphrase, "man, you gotta do this!" with great enthusiasm. So with this in mind, we did it. On the sparkly-blue morning of March 9, we rented a car and headed south to the Hollister airport. Without getting too far into the pre-jump details (if you ask, I'll happily tell you everything), we had a pleasant wait for the big moment. The people there were very nice and the macho yahoo element was noticeably absent. After spending an hour or so putting on our funny suits and having Doug and Kirk (our "Tandem-Masters") tell us what not to do, and to do what they tell us when they tell us, and that skydiving accidents only happen to people who do dumb things (I had done some dumb things before so I was slightly concerned), we all wandered over to the airplane and climbed in.
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