Falling out of an airplane.
So, I fell out of an airplane at the age of four. Yep, it's true and it was while I was on a journey.
See, the family was on an ice-fishing expedition in Northern Saskatchewan in the dead of winter. During such an occassion we would either a) take the skidoos out to the middle of some lake or b) take the plane and fly to some further lake. This time we did b).
So, there we were, ice-fishing in the middle of some lake in Northern Saskatchewan at the height of the low temperature season [read as: about 40 below or so], and I was 4, and i was cold. I let my Dad know this in no uncertain terms and so he took me to the plane, all bundled up and propped me up against the wall on the other side of the plane. He then took out the coleman coffee maker and lit it up and put it in front of me to give me some warmth. He also made coffee with it.
There came a point in time, while I was sitting against the wall of the plane, that I realised that the wall was actually another door and that it wasn't shut properly. That point came while I was falling out of the plane and into the snow on the thick ice of the lake.
That's my story.
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