I'll leap from the aircraft (ok, roll out the back, shutup) and because I can't control my legs I won't be able to get into the proper 'falling' position, Which pretty much means I'd end up head down, and hit terminal velocity fairly shortly. Now, because I don't want to be a quad, I'm not takin' a parachute. Now don't freak out, all is not lost.
So I'm going to fall, for about (what) five minutes. Yes, I'd have to jump from kinda high, so I'd prolly want to take oxygen, 'cuz going out like THAT would suck. (I was on a ventilator for a few weeks, so trust me, I know) Anyway, I'd get my couple minutes of free fall, which, truthfully after the first 3 would prolly cease to be a novelty, and burn right in. To the rehab pool of some level 1 trauma center somewhere, which would break my fall enough that I *only* break my neck. At about the C-2 level, so i'd be able to smile, and that's about all.
No, I still wouldn't die, because for some reason I get to be here for a bit longer. I think it's just to be tortured and take up oxygen, but some of you think otherwise, so we'll see. If someone could *please* invent some sort of anti-neuropathic-pain drug that would really make me happy.

Just so you know, I haven't forgotten what happened to me. Apparently some people in my condition 'get over it' so to speak. They look at their new life as their "new life", and that's all there is to it. I'm not one of those people. I haven't forgotten what it's like to wade a river, or feel a nice granite cliff under my feet. Every time I fall over because I can't balance anymore, I curse that guy. Every time I notice my legs getting thinner. Every time I want something I can't reach. Every time I try to move something heavy. Every time I see my Jetta, and have to drive my big ol' van. Every time I try to move, and some part of me spasms, and I have to grab ahold of something or get thrown on the floor. Every time I get sick from the heat. Every time I have one of those 'projectile' type accidents. Whenever I try to roll accross gravel? Oh yeah, I cuss alot. I can't feel anything below my chest, and that bothers me alot. I get the chair stuck on stuff alot, sometimes almost throwing me out. That makes me happy. Right now, I'm sitting here in just about screaming pain, because it feels like I'm sitting in a frying pan. One that's over the fire, mind you.

Sometimes I wish I'd been drunk, or doing something else dumb, and driven myself off a cliff into a tree, or wrecked my four-wheeler, or something, because then I could say to myself: Self, you were dumb, and this is your own fault.