Kumming & Going: Skydiving in Moab

The manageable drive began around 3:45PM on a Memorial Day Friday, so we were already behind schedule. You see...in Denver, almost nobody works. Those who do choose to earn an honest living certainly have it wrapped up by lunchtime on any given Friday. Whether it's a show at Red Rocks, a powder forecast at Vail, or just a nice fall weekend of camping, the mountainous trek through I-70 is a complete madhouse 24/7 and everybody is competing for road space. No time to waste.

The destination on this particular getaway was six hours west to Moab, UT. I had never been and certainly was prepared to never return. Carnies and snakes are my two biggest fears, and while I didn't expect to encounter any of the former, the hellish red landscape straight out of a Breaking Bad drug-deal-gone-wrong had me perfectly prepared to be murdered by the latter in my sleep. I know this next part will be shocking, but as someone who didn't (and still doesn't) have an Instagram, the appeal of "getting the shot" wasn't even a motivating factor. But I went anyway.

We stopped about 4 hours into the trip in Grand Junction to spend the night. I realize this is an incredibly soft move - it's only six hours, after all. But one can only spend so many consecutive drunken nights sleeping on the ground. The middle of nowhere is kind of like a Vegas trip in the sense that you're ready to run out the clock and shower off the weekend by the 48th hour. Sue me.

Grand Junction is a charming little town, the last bastion of Colorado humanity before entering the red wasteland of the Utah desert. You know that family from The Hills Have Eyes that gets stranded just after passing through a gas station? It's only 20 miles back to Grand Junction, I'll walk and call for help!

It's actually not that barren - but you get the idea.

Anyway, before leaving Grand Junction I picked up a T-Shirt from my favorite Western Rockies gas station, Kum & Go, which is a real place. Yes, it's spelled like that. In this era of oversensitivity and businesses having to change brand names like Taylor Swift changes boyfriends, I have no clue how a chain gas station with "Kum" in it's name has been around this long. And thrived! And the pizza isn't *that* bad!

Bottom line - I knew I'd be in some radical pictures that weekend and wanted to show my support. Imagine being the first Kum & Go sponsored athlete? If only Wilt Chamberlain had played in Denver.

Speaking of radical pictures - the plan was to make a quick skydiving pit stop before setting up camp. No big deal.

We arrived at Skydive Moab around lunchtime on Saturday, a handful of buildings so casual and unassuming they could have been mistaken for a defunct roadside mechanic shop if not for the wave of fluorescent fabric falling from the sky every couple of minutes overhead.

First-timers are required to go tandem with an expert, and my lover was a mild-mannered, wavy-brown-haired hunk named Greg. At least I'm 64% sure - I'm terrible with names, but maybe he'll see this someday and reach out. Greg - you're my hero and I think and dream about you always.

"Kum"

Greg strapped me up, we boarded the "plane" with the balance of the crew, and began the climb. I use quotation marks because this aircraft didn't feel stable enough to haul a couple of cocaine kilos over the Gulf of Mexico, much less about 20 humans.

The plane ride is by far the scariest part. I wouldn't necessarily call myself acrophobic, but I don't really love heights either. Despite it being 75 degrees with a wind chill factor of nothing on the ground, our vessel was shaking, wavering and creaking like a haunted mansion in a James Wan movie. The 20 minute climb feels like 2 hours, and you're just ready to get out of the goddam plane by minute 7. Not wanting to embarrass myself in front of my good friend's beautiful wife Jamie, I kept it light and posed for some pictures despite wanting to shit my pants. I think she was impressed.

Finally, at 10,000 feet, it was time to jump. I'm not sure if it was sheer luck or Greg trying to impress me, but we were right next to the door and scheduled to go first in our group.

But not before the two solo-jumpers in tow.

The garage door swung open and out they went, sucked into the sky like a fucking bread crumb into a 2019 Dyson. Seriously - that was pretty jarring. In the movies they make it seem like a smooth process, the camera often following the jumpers into the sky. Not how it works - WHOOSH and they're gone.

I asked Greg to make sure my bulge looked good for the picture, and he assured me it looked tasty. Guy knows how to earn a tip. We slid over to dangle out of the plane and it was go-time. Lip reading a picture has never been easier than this one. SHHHH-SHHHH-SSHIIIIIITTTTTTTTT.

Great Outfit. Great Legs.

Greg and I had decided on "backflip" as an exit strategy, so as he shoved his pelvis oh-so-tenderly against my backside, I leaned back and we were off. The first 3-4 seconds were a disorienting blur (obviously) but the picture below is about when I regained my faculties. Love the plane in the background.

As for the fall - I don't have anything earth-shattering to report. It's exactly like what you expect - a pretty fucking sweet adrenaline rush. You get comfortable fairly quickly with the speed you're traveling and just sort of have to remember to look around and enjoy it. I'm sure anything looks sweet from that altitude, but the red Utah horizon was frickin' gorgeous. I also remember wishing I had worn pants - my tiny chicken legs were freezing.

Greg pulled the 'chute and let me steer our way to the ground, which was something only Greg would trust me to do. He just KNOWS me.

To the disappointment of many, I reached the ground in one piece and that was that. It was an absolute blast, but to use another Vegas reference, probably something I'd only be interested in doing once every few years.

Greg and I hugged, high-fived, and he was out of my life (but not my heart) forever. I consider myself extremely lucky to have such an incredible sponsor in Kum & Go that supports my dreams and pushes me to my limits. I'm planning to begin negotiations with their lawyers to sponsor my certification so I can go solo next time.

I forgot to mention I lost my wallet at the skydiving place which added to the anxiety, but found it a year later. Thankfully, that was the worst thing that happened all weekend. The campsite was straight out of a magazine and I drank just enough beers to ensure the drive back home was as excruciating as possible. Finally, I didn't see a snake the entire trip - the perfect booked to a spectacular weekend.