News-Sentinel reporter Layla Bohm tries skydiving at the Lodi Parachute Center in Acampo. (Brian Feulner/News-Sentinel)

A first-time jumper's account

Everyone kept asking if I was nervous. After all, I was going to jump out of an airplane and fall more than two miles back to earth, relying on another person to open and operate the parachute that would prevent us from crash-landing.

But I was excited. I'd wanted to go skydiving for years, and I jumped — literally and figuratively — when I got the chance.

Shortly before I headed to the Lodi Airport, a friend text-messaged this advice: "Don't do it!"

I preferred the advice of a friend who jumped out of planes many times for work: "Have lots of fun."

So there I was, wearing a green jumpsuit as I stood inside a large hangar at the Lodi Parachute Center. I'd watched a brief instructional video that made me laugh because the hairstyles were about 20 years out of date.

Cory Hall, a cameraman working for Lodi Parachute Center, trained his small video camera on me. "Are you nervous?" he asked.

Nope, I still wasn't nervous. Apparently that's not a typical answer — a girl nearby was also a first-time jumper and her legs were shaking before she even stepped into her jumpsuit.

Hall, who reached jump number 4,200 on the previous weekend, kept his camera rolling as he pursued the question. "Do people say you're not normal?" he asked.

I thought of the various things I've done over the years — playing the 'bad guy' so a police dog would attack me, shooting guns, falling while ice skating for the first time, skidding in circles while at the wheel of a California Highway Patrol car. And the one that is still talked about years after the fact: voluntarily being Tasered.

Yeah, people think I'm a bit odd.

Before long, I was climbing into a plane with instructor Steve Bowie, a tattooed Scotland native who earns a living jumping out of planes while strapped to novices.

It was a windy day but owner Bill Dause wasn't concerned. In other words, he didn't seem worried about the risk of landing off course on busy Highway 99, mere yards from the landing area.

The plane took off with a roar as we climbed 13,000 feet into the air, or about two and a half miles. Bowie secured the straps that held us together, and I lowered a pair of clear glasses over my eyes.

And then the door opened at the rear of the plane. Two other jumpers and their photographers disappeared.

I found myself looking straight down from an open plane. The instructor was attached to my back, but that meant that I saw nothing before me except open air.

For the first time, I had a brief thought of, "Wait, I'm going to voluntarily leave this plane?"

But the thought passed quickly because then we were in the air, plummeting toward the earth. I later learned that our top speed was 124 mph.

It was exhilarating. It took my breath away, but Dause had told me to feel free to scream because that helps with breathing. So I screamed out of sheer joy and thrill.

We fell through the sky, arms outstretched like wings, for nearly a minute until Bowie pulled the chord to open our parachute. We snapped upright from a flying position, and suddenly we were drifting instead of plummeting.

I saw fields and buildings. The blue freight cars of a train looked so small. As we descended, the big rigs on Highway 99 seemed quite close to the airport.

Bowie made a few turns as we drew closer to the grassy landing area, and then the ground was rushing up to meet us.

As suddenly as we had left the plane, we were on the ground. My knees were just fine, which laid to rest my only worry.

After leaving the airport I called my mom. I never call her before I do some daredevil thing, because she's the world's biggest worrier. I was really looking forward to making this call because more than once, when I've told her of my latest exploit, she has said, "At least you weren't jumping out of an airplane."

I even had my reporter's pad and pen ready to record her reaction.

"Oh my goodness. No broken bones?" she said.

That was followed by a brief pause as it sunk in and then she said, "With a parachute?"

When she was over the first shock, I told her that our maximum speed was 124 mph before opening the chute. That stunned her some more and she asked if I still had eyebrows.

Yes, all body parts, eyebrows included, were still intact.

So, now that I've fulfilled a years-old dream, what's next? Maybe I'll jump out of a plane solo. Yes, Mom, with a parachute.

Contact reporter Layla Bohm at layla@lodinews.com.