In a decision quite divorced from any semblance of logical thought, I recently went skydiving as a way of celebrating a good friend’s impending entry into the world of monogamy.
What follows is an account of the experience I wrote for my weekly column at the place of my employ, that mighty bastion of journalistic might The Kentucky Standard. I apologize in advance for the tacky moral stuck on the end, but it is a necessity in the newspaper column business
There are some things that, from an early age, I have sworn I would never do. Yet at around 4:30 p.m. Saturday, I found myself seated on my knees with my head out the open door of an airplane cruising at about 12,500 feet.
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