3-2-1, Leap!

By Dr. Tim Seelig –

If you have been following my column over the years, it’s clear that I choose the topics for it. The publishers have never tried to influence that selection process and have, remarkably, never said “no.” This month departs from that. Last month’s article was on Bucket Lists. They thought I was doing the story about jumping out of a plane at 74 ½ years old. Instead, I wrote a more comprehensive survey of the list in my personal bucket. With some encouragement, I decided to share the whole jumping thing.

You may have seen my TEDx talk. If so, you know its premise is having the courage to take a leap. My first story was about the first time I jumped off a high dive at the swimming pool. The second story was the leap of coming out. Both of those were scary. Did they prepare me for leaping out of plane 14,500 feet in the air? Not so much. You can’t die from the first two.

Everyone wants to know, “Was this always something you wanted to do?” The answer is a resounding “no.” Of course, I had thought of it. Haven’t we all? (I hear the chorus of “no’s.”) If you ever considered it, this article is for you. Go with me.

One night, I was minding my own business, sitting on the sofa watching one of my favorite television shows, Top Chef Masters Season Five. The first challenge was to cook for a professional skydiving team. The twist was they would get an extra hour of cook time if they agreed to skydive themselves. Only one, Douglas, said, “Hell, no.”

They had so much fun. I thought, “I could do that.” When the episode ended, I texted Bobby, who was on tour, and asked, “Hey, did you ever want to skydive?” He said, “Not really.” I said, “Great! We’re set for 2 pm July 2!” And thus, the adventure began.

I did my research of local skydiving companies. This may sound shallow, but I may have based my decision on the cuteness factor of the staff. After all, your tandem partner would be strapped to your body so tight you couldn’t slip a credit card between you. You must have someone you “trust.” Photos are obviously the way to figure that out.

Bobby picked me up from my volunteer shift at the Oregon Humane Society. We were in a little bit of a hurry, so we grabbed a Big Mac and fries and ate in the car on our way. We wanted to have plenty of energy for this adventure. We were nervously chatty between bites. Knowing what lay ahead, we talked about romantic things like, “Is your will notarized?”

We arrived. Everyone who worked there was under 25! Oh, lord, where were the adults? (They have better jobs!) We signed every possible waiver on the planet. They could have just done one. “I am fully aware I might die. My will is notarized.”

First up was meeting our tandem partners. Things were looking up. Way up. The online photos had not been touched up. I dubbed him Mr. Hottie. They strapped us in these jumpsuit things. It did not look sturdy enough to me nor did I think the straps secured all the important parts. We walked outside just in time to see the group before us land. They had all lived.

Next was the interview for our video. I asked them to keep the camera focused from the waist up. I had already peed my pants a little. They asked, “Whose idea was this?” Guilty. What a dumb time for an interview. Then we walked out to the plane. It was much smaller than I had imagined. It was a tiny metal tube of death with a metal step ladder leaning up against it. They loaded the oldest person last. That would be me. That meant I was seated by the open door and would have to go first or no one else on the plane would be skydiving that day!

As we began to climb to 14,500 feet, it dawned to me that our goal was 4,500 feet higher than the, “You may now use your laptop,” announcement on commercial flights. As we climbed, I began shivering because the door, next to me, was wide open. Lord Jesus.

There was a big stoplight by the door. As we climbed, the red light was illuminated. That means, don’t jump. Then it turned to yellow: caution. It was also the obvious signal to pee in your pants a little more. It was additionally the hint to Mr. Hottie to start scooching forward toward the door and, because we were one, I went along.

Here’s the good news. You’ve been trained when you get to the door that you are to arch your back as much as possible. You are looking up at the ceiling of this metal tube. Your feet are curled way under (hanging out of the plane). Luckily, you can’t see the ground or the light turn green! Without fanfare, pronouncement, or warning, Mr. Hottie, whose lap I am basically sitting in, ever so gently shoved us both out the door.

Then, the moment came that we were all waiting for: we were flying. Mr. Hottie yelled something that I couldn’t understand. I think he said, “Smile for the camera.” I was gripping my straps for some sort of security. He grabbed my hands and pulled them out into the air. This really felt like flying.

It was very loud and the air seemed to be attacking every square inch of my body. It was certainly unlike any experience I’ve had. Just as I began to get used to it, everything changed. I thought I must have hit the ground with a bone-crushing jolt. Nope. It was the parachute opening. I don’t remember being warned that it would feel like jumping off the high dive with no water in the pool!

It didn’t take long to adjust. It was quiet. I was floating, back and forth, and swinging to the left and right as the earth came into view from each side. It was impossible to get any equilibrium. Do you remember riding a Tilt-a-Whirl at the amusement park as a kid after too much cotton candy and funnel cakes? I did my best to focus on the beauty of the experience, but that attempt was overpowered by trying not to lose my lunch. I knew exactly where it would go—all over Mr. Hottie.

The landing was incredibly smooth. I just lifted my legs and slid in on my butt. It was over. I didn’t puke, yay! The next 15 minutes were filled with the most fake smiles I have ever had to slap on my face since church days … or the occasional board meeting. They were still filming for reactions. I don’t expect they will use mine on their social media. I’m pretty sure they included some references to Jesus and Big Macs. BTW, it was not until we got home and read the fine print that we found this: “Do not eat a large meal before jumping.” Oops.

It’s now two months since the jump. Am I glad I did it? Absolutely. I would have always wondered if I could. Would I do it again? Let me think about that for a second. “No.” Should you do it? “A million times yes.”

If you decide to do it, here are some tips:

• Check out the photos of the tandem flyers.
• Do not eat a Bic Mac before the leap.
• Wear depends.
• Trust you can’t die from the experience.
• Make sure your will is notarized, just in case.

Dr. Tim Seelig is the Conductor Laureate of the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus. http://www.timseelig.com/

TLC: Tears, Laughs and Conversation
Published on September 11, 2025