The story so far:
As I sat crouched with my back pressed to the wall the thought occurred to me that jumping from this plane was preferable to landing in it. The gasping engines were doing nothing to help my nerves.
I tried to recall the procedures taught in the required ten minute class, but my mother’s voice kept pushing through. Damn woman, no one invited you!
Adding to this symphony of chaos playing in my head was the added distraction of a pair of nicely toned, mocha flavored thighs pressed against mine, which most definitely did not belong to Bryan. This was my honeymoon for god’s sake; I should not be having these thoughts. Ojo azules? Well ‘muslos sabrosos’ back at you honey. A burst of hysterical giggles I didn’t see coming cut loose, causing every head in the small plane to turn my way, including my new husbands, who had been having an animated conversation with his partner.
I smiled and shrugged, “Nerves.”
The plane door was opened and the first pair of jumpers was called. I watched as the man, probably old enough to be my grandfather, carefully took his position. He crouched in front of the door with his tandem partner behind him, toes hanging over the edge of the opening. They rocked forward and back, “One.”
On the count of three, just before they went tumbling out, the old man turned his head and his eyes looked directly into mine with a look that said, “What the hell am I doing”, and then they were gone. I leaned my head back against the wall with one word reverberating….F***!