That is, well, a pretty daring outfit, orange jumpsuit, leather aviator cap, goggles and sports harness have no fashionable explanation. No. Exceptionally, there were functional reasons that forced me to choose my wardrobe.
For I am now jumping from an airplane. 4000 meters high. A flamboyant wardrobe is out of place. I’m not jumping alone, no, of course not. It was a tandem with Lars, a diving instructor. He was wearing Vans shoes, a wooden bead necklace and a jaunty short haircut.
At 3500 meters, just before the exit zone, Lars whispered tenderly in my ear: “Sit on my lap.” It was a long time ago that a man asked me such a thing. But I did what needed to be done.
We were the last jumpers in the plane. I leaned back, put my head on trained Lars’s chest. My heart was pounding. Then we fell.