I had the weirdest case of déjà vu today in the city. I took the subway up town to spend some time at Central Park on this beautiful warm afternoon and buy Goose an ice cream from one of the local vendors.
After walking block after block through the packed city, I hoped and prayed for an empty seat on the stuffy, crowded subway car, but to no avail. Instead I was pushed to the middle of the aisle where the only way to balance myself as the train raced across the railway, was to grab the overhead steal bar. I reached up with my left hand and grasped the horizontal bar with my fist. Only a few steps in front of me was the side sliding doors that I would exit through. I looked down and noticed my feet were shoulder width apart, one slightly in front of the other. Then I realized that my right hand was placed over my purse, which had fallen to the front of my waist to keep the crowd from knocking it off my shoulder.
That’s when I realized it. If the metal bar was a static line, my purse was a reserve chute, and the subway was a C-130, I would be seconds away from jumping out of an aircraft at 1,200 feet. Suddenly the subway jerked sharply, nearly knocking me off my feet, synching the deal. Yep, I was in the twilight zone. If only I was carrying 80 extra pounds of equipment, a weapon, and it was midnight.
Who knew all those jumps onto Sicily Drop Zone would prepare me for a life in the city? And although I was dozens of feet below ground instead of hundreds of feet above ground, and metallic strappy sandals replaced combat boots, it was still…a trip.