18,000 feet and the man sprains an ankle.  I get hurt worse climbing out of bed some mornings.

I imagine the fall much like life itself.  Impossibly slow at first, hardly seeming to change at all.  Then things beginning to slowly change as the ground begins to approach.  Things slightly in focus, but still a rather large picture.  Too much to take in.  And then rapidly gaining momentum, too fast, as the ground suddenly seems to rush up at you, leaping up at you, anxious to take you.  Too close, too fast, with no way to stop it.

By the way, this sentence was inspired by a book that I’ve never finished reading, but started at least ten years ago, maybe longer.  The Free Fall of Webster Cummings by Tom Bodett.  I saw it just now on Amazon, used for 25 cents.  Unbelievable that someone can spend time writing something that will later, if they’re even lucky, have a chance of earning two bits.