Taking off in a Small Cessna airplane. A smooth ascent leads you to amass grandiose views of the Pacific ocean, and a crisp, clear Southern California sky below, all whilst cruising at an altitude of 8,000 feet and climbing. Santa Barbara to the north, you soar above marinas, ports, and clearly observe Catalina in the distance. It’s just then, that a handsome disheveled young fellow (one of the five people lodged into the small plane) straps himself to you, tells you to sit on his lap, abruptly explains a few layperson instructions, and at that moment hastily declares- “let’s do it girl.” He vehemently urges you towards the exit door, and then, there you are, 10,000 ft and descending rapidly! Boom you jumped! Your flying, turning, twisting, screaming! Inherently out of control and then the parachute opens, your now gliding, soaring, and breathing deeply. Overlooking rows of quaint orange trees and expansive farmland you slowly descent to the ground, turning and gliding until your in line to land accordingly. At that moment, you’ve made it! You just jumped out of an airplane!