86. 9.8 meters per second squared

I actually did it. I jumped out of a plane. That was not going down in flames. On purpose. Well, when it came down to actually jumping out of it, I couldn't do it. I also couldn't not do it. Dad had jumped before me, and Brewer and Xen were waiting on me, so I couldn't bow out. So what did I do? I closed my eyes, went to my happy place, and let Instructor Dan- the guy I was strapped to- do the whole hurling us out of the plane thing. But what I learned was that, when faced with two untenable choices, I go turtle. Hmm. What does that say about me?

Aftermath picture. We're all shellshocked. Dad's the only one who wore a supersuit.

A fundamental truth, today I found

while at the open plane's door I perused

the miles of air between me and the ground:

I had two paths to choose from, but refused.

I didn't scramble back, nor did I leap.

To shame myself or jump, I could do neither.

And so I closed my eyes as though asleep;

Instructor Dan then threw us to the aether.

The air roared past and tasted of the ocean;

my opened eyes saw how the Earth is curved

and all below, a Map in frozen motion:

a view we tend to hold for gods reserved.

I'm glad that to my dad's wish I acceded;

that said, I do not think I will repeat it.