Skydiving: My First Tandem Jump
When people hear the name Justin Grinstead, they don’t exactly think “skydiver”, at least I wouldn’t. Especially not at the crack of dawn in my 20s.
It was at small airfield in Arizona when I decided to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. But I conquered my fear, laughed in the face of death (well, sort of), and had one of the best experiences of my life.
Picking My Tandem Instructor
Skydiving isn’t something you do alone on your first go. There were three of us jumping that day, and three instructors we could partner with. My options?
Teenage Burnout #1
Teenage Burnout #2
A surly, salt-and-pepper-haired Army veteran with a high-and-tight haircut you could set your watch to
Easy choice—I went with the Army vet.
As he strapped us together, I must have been shaking. “Nervous?” he asked, his voice calm and steady. I confessed, “Yeah, I’m kind of afraid I’m going to die.” Without missing a beat, he hit me with, “Look, kid, I have 8 other jumps today. Are you jumping or not?”
That line was perfect. It wasn’t the sugar-coated reassurance I expected—it was practical, no-nonsense, and just what I needed to hear. This guy wasn’t worried at all, so why should I be?
The Plane Ride
The airfield was small, which meant the plane had limited airspace to work with. Our climb wasn’t a smooth, scenic ascent; it was more like taking a staircase up a tall building into the sky. The plane would climb straight for a few seconds, then turn back the other way, zigzagging higher with every pass. Imagine sitting on a Berber carpet rug, crammed shoulder-to-shoulder with six people and a pilot, all while the engine roared against my ear.
Midway through the climb, we took a hard lurch to the right. Everyone on board was thrown sideways. Looking out the small, scratched plastic window, I saw another plane crossing so close I could read the call letters on its tail. My instructor leaned in and shouted over the engine, “If you were going to die, it would’ve been right there!”
Not the pep talk I expected, but it actually helped. The worst-case scenario was behind us (or so I hoped), and the jump felt a lot less intimidating by comparison.
The Jump
The door opened, and the wind hit like a freight train. My heart was pounding as we shuffled toward the edge. There wasn’t much ceremony—just a quick countdown, and then we were out. I think he may have pushed out at 3…2…
The freefall was pure chaos and beautiful. Sixty seconds of wind, speed, and adrenaline as the desert, mountains, and endless sky blurred together below me. When the parachute finally deployed, everything slowed down. The last ten minutes of the descent were peaceful, almost surreal. Floating high above the world, I felt secure, and could see the landscape stretching for miles..
I then called my Mother and told her I had just jumped out of a plane and was okay…She was grateful I had’t told her prior
Lessons from the Sky
Skydiving wasn’t just an adrenaline rush—it was a perspective shift. I learned that fear shrinks when you trust the experts around you. I also realized that some of life’s best experiences come when you stop overthinking and just take the leap.
Final Thoughts
That jump was unforgettable, and so was the Army vet’s wisdom: “I’ve got 8 more jumps today. Are you jumping or not?” It’s a line I still think about—not just in the context of skydiving, but in life. When faced with fear or doubt, sometimes the best thing you can do is commit and trust the process.
Would I do it again? Absolutely not. I have a fmily now and wouldn’t dare jeopardize my being there for them. But, if you’re ever in Eloy, Arizona with a certain Army veteran, tell him Justin Grinstead says thanks.
