People assume that because I have unflinching confidence forged in the hellfire of combat, I'd be okay with skydiving. Um, no. Skydiving is jumping out of a plane for an adrenaline rush. I have plenty of fun drinking whiskey and insulting people. Once you get good at that, nothing offers up the same sense of satisfaction. Well, maybe sex with a stripper.
Oh yeah, plus there's the little issue of this: a British man named Michael Holmes (pictured) survived a 14,000-foot freefall when both his main parachute and his reserve failed to open. He landed in a thorny blackberry bush, which I find to be a nice, subtle touch of comedy.
He suffered a collapsed lung and broken ankle that may require further surgery, but plans to jump again. He called the incident a “freak accident” that has changed the way he looks it life.
“I will certainly jump. It's what I do. I love it,” Holmes said.
I wish there were a more effective way to convey in words when I'm just sitting here sighing and shaking my head. If I survived a skydiving accident I'd start playing it really safe. I'd drive the speed limit. Stop jaywalking. Maybe even start wearing condoms when I went to Thailand.
Note: There's video here, but I can't get it to work. Somebody tell me it's awesome.