To celebrate our five year anniversary, Chris and I decided to take a literal plunge - out of an airplane. Saturday morning, we drove to Lebanon, Maine, and went skydiving. Since it was our first time jumping, we had to had to go tandem (each strapped to an instructor). A 20-seater plane flew 15 of us to 14,000 feet, at which point the passenger door was wrenched open, and people began throwing themselves away from the plane every 4-5 seconds, dropping like breadcrumbs in a fantastical trail. I was the last one out the door (Chris right before me) - I think the best part of the jump was hovering in the plane's door and staring into the open sky in the seconds before we plummeted backwards into the clouds. The free fall lasted 60 seconds with us zooming face-first towards the ground at about 120 mph. Then the instructor pulled the parachute, and we spent about five minute gliding above the trees, finally landing in soggy grass. It was a really fun experience, but I wish I had been more scared. I wanted to look out the door of the plane and feel my heart palpitate and my hands shake, but I felt too safe, probably because I had a huge man strapped to my back.
We opted not to be videotaped for $100, so no pictures exist of us in the air. I snapped a couple pictures from the ground of other skydivers. We ate dinner at our favorite restaurant in Portland and also spent the night there. Chris' high school friend, Bryan, is staying with us this week before he takes a train to NYC to tour the city. We gave him the requisite Boston tour on Sunday after we got back from Maine.
Brian and Chris standing along the streets in the North End.