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Two-and-a-half miles seems like no big deal. A couple roundtrips from North Campus to Susquehanna Hall, right? But as I peered beyond the doorway of an airplane last Saturday, about to make my first skydive and feeling the force of 80 mph winds across my face, two and a half miles made a completely different impression.

Of course, as a first-timer, it seemed strange to me why someone would voluntarily jump out of a moving plane. But for many members of the Maryland Skydiving Crew, skydiving is an addiction. About 13 experienced members have accumulated more than a thousand jumps since the club formed in 1998, spending thousands of dollars to partake in the skydiving experience.

Last Saturday, I accompanied 16 university students on their trip to Skydive Delmarva in Laurel, Del., to skydive from 14,000 feet, fully expecting to be surrounded by pierced and tattooed risk-takers. But the skydivers didn't fit my initial stereotype. Despite the obvious dangers, members of the Maryland Skydiving Crew are not lacking in common sense. After making hundreds of jumps, the skydivers become increasingly more confident in their abilities.

I was also surprised at how relatively "safe" skydiving is. Skydiving caused only 33 fatalities in about 3.3 million jumps last year, according to the United States Parachuting Association. The numerous precautions include a reserve parachute packed by a Federal Aviation Administration certified parachute rigger, which divers are trained to deploy in case of malfunctions. Student jumpers are also required to jump with CYPRES, an automatic activation device, which will deploy the reserve parachute at 1,500 feet, if it has not been opened.

Freefalling for about a minute at 120 miles per hour, skydiving was quite an experience. Still, I was surprised to learn that skydiving never loses its thrill for many of its participants.

President Dave Bekinski, a junior aeronautical engineer and licensed skydiver, said he has never made a boring jump. And to broaden his experiences, he made one from 23,000 feet - an altitude that requires an oxygen tank.

Such quantity of jumps is no small feat considering the costs involved. Only after an investment of several thousand dollars in training and equipment does skydiving become relatively inexpensive - costing about $18 per jump - a price many jumpers are willing to pay to satisfy an addiction.

"Sometimes I run prohibitively low on funding," said Mike Schmitt, a fifth-year computer science major and a licensed skydiver who has made about 240 jumps. "This summer I went [to Skydive Delmarva] with less than $20 to my name and I packed parachutes all weekend, earning nearly $200. When you're addicted to it like I am, you learn to make do."

Initial skydive training is more expensive, however. First-time jumpers choose between two jumps. In a tandem jump, costing $175, participants are harnessed to an instructor in a less extensive but more affordable introduction to skydiving. During an accelerated freefall, costing $260, two instructors stabilize, but are not harnessed to the jumper during flight. Completion of seven levels of AFF is required to receive skydiving certification which allows jumpers to self-supervise. Video and a roll of photographs cost $79.

"Thinking back, I would have paid double for my first jump if they wanted me to," said freshman biomedical engineering major Bobby Gill who is currently pursuing his license. "You can't really put a price on that first taste of pure adrenaline."

The AFF experience for myself and five other first-timers began Saturday morning with about five full hours of training on the ground, going over safety and freefall techniques and proving our skydiving competency.

There is an hour to kill until the jump, a tense and nerve-wracking hour which I used to make a phone call to my worried mom. Others spent the time mulling, sometimes fearfully, over what they were about to do.

Twenty skydivers boarded the plane and made the 20-minute ascent, a trip much longer and much higher than I had expected. I definitely had time to consider what I was about to about to do, especially since I was last in line to jump. The plane's ascent levels out just above the clouds, at which point jumpers begin coordinating their departure with instructors.

Although instructors will not force jumpers out against their will, instructor Tracey Eckersley said they will consider any response as a desire to jump, whether it be a resounding "yes" or hysterical whimpering combined with reluctant movement towards the door.

"You can see the tandem [jumpers] line up in the door and very literally see, very often, abject fear," Eckersley said, having accumulated over 9,000 jumps. "After two seconds of leaving the door, you can see that change into a really big smile."

Once in freefall, jumpers have several responsibilities to demonstrate competency at AFF level 1, including periodically checking the altimeter for height readings and instructors for position adjustments, before pulling the parachute at 5,500 feet. The parachute pulls you away from instructors and mental debriefing begins. Amidst laughter spurring from the realization of my actions, a one-way radio assisted me to landing.

The life-altering revelation I was expecting during freefall never really happened but it temporarily put life into perspective. I plan to go for my second jump next month, most likely with members of my AFF Level 1 group, and maybe then that life-altering revelation will come, though I'm not quite sure where the $170 will be come from.

"Skydivers are a different group of people," Eckersley said. "There's just something in there somewhere that makes them slightly different that makes them want to come on a skydive."

I've joined a family of "different" people.