Coming Home

Last night I was flying home from a show I did in Alaska. We were in the air over British Columbia when the captain told us over the loudspeaker that we'd run out of gas and that we needed to parachute to the ground.

I'd never ski-dived. I was excited because I was going to, immediately. The flight attendants opened the floor compartments that contained the parachutes. We all strapped them on our backs. One of the flight attendants opened the plane's side door. It's amazing how fresh the air is that high up. I was exhilarated.

People started jumping out right away. Their chutes opened instantly. They looked like dandelion seeds floating in the air.

I was one of the last people in line. The pilot was behind me. I asked him how he was feeling. He told me that he felt badly for not checking the gas gauge when we left the Anchorage Airport. I said that the same thing had happened to me before, but it was with my car. I felt kind of dumb. He said he felt the same way. He thanked me for making him feel better.

I jumped out the window. It was amazing to be in the sky, with my feet hanging below me. It was dark and I couldn't see the ground. I felt like I could just as easily have been in Space. This made me feel expansive.

Before I knew it I landed in a tree. I didn't get hurt. I unbuckled myself and landed on the ground. I found the other passengers. We hiked for a couple of miles and found a ranger's station. There was one guy there and he was stunned to see us. He said he could be up there for weeks at a time and not see a soul. And then suddenly, there we were!