I also only have two beers. 

Grrr...

So tanyway, 40 minute flight on a C-130 in bumpy ass airspace...I can't imagine anyone not getting airsick to at least an extent--even the hardliners admitted...thus yes, a few people deployed the doggee bags...

First pass jumpers on my door stand up...and get red lighted so they combine the first and second passes...all 14 stand through another redlight pass.  After a total of about 20 minutes of standing with their 70 some odd pound ruck/chute combo on their shoulders, they go.

I didn't want to do it, but i forced myself to watch the jumpmasters laboring to pull the chute pack trays out of the wind and back into the aircraft...seeign their struggle did nto bode well for the wind, as the bumpy flight had already hinted at strong winds...

So it comes my turn--I'm third from the door...Same routine.  My shoulders are aching and I pray to God, literally, to let me out of the bird...my stomach can't take the flight back and my shoulders are killing me.  I prayed that I knew it would a bad scene so to watch over my brethen if we're granted that green light...

We near the drop zone a third time this chalk (sixth time total) pass and my prayers are rewarded..."Green Light GO GO GO!"

I waddle up and hand my static line to the safety...out I go and begin my count to four.

At three the telltale shock racks my body...but HARD this time, harder than I ever remember...My first thoughts..."Oh FUCK I'm a towed jumper!" (my equipment got hung up on the plane and I'm being towed by the plane)  But I look up and it's nto the case..my chute has deployed and I'm "safely" making my way down. 

Breathing sighs...and then I find myself enveloped by a sea of fucking green canopy--someone's elses chute.  My heart misses another beat and I steer away in a rapid motion by pulling the parachute risers...

And the ground is rapidly getting closer and closer.

I'm runnign out time so I pull my quick release and my ruck is lowered the 15 odd feet by my lowering line (so it lands b4 me and I don't land on it!) and watch in horror as it sways and twists in the wind almost exactly level with myself. 

SO of course to top everything off then the ruck is gonna land on top of ME!  Untwisting my legs for lowering line as they got caught as well, I scan the ground...After all this, I still miraculously have time to pull a slip and decide to land right or left...well i decide right and ride the slip in...

I never can recall how exactly I've landed, correct PLF or semi sorta, or what I did wrong in there between...Well today I know by fact that I did nothing even remotely close to a PLF...all I remember is thinking--oh fuck this is gonna hur...
POW!  On ground, thud thud whack...head head shoulder. Not sure what hit first--I think my feet but?  The head came later thank god.

I scramble to release one of the risers but the buckle is twisted under...the chute, still full of air, begins to drag me...five feet, ten...I *finally* get the damn thign off...

And nothing!  I'm still dragging.  It's so damn windy out there that even with one riser of the chute won't collapse.  I watch in horror as I'm dragged towards a largish sized pool of water...

Some  sort of delight rushed through me as I get dragged through one to one and a half feet of water...might as well wait it out--no reason to pop the other riser and sick in the mud...

I get drug out, soaked, muddy, and pop the other fuckign riser only after I find myself in a couple thorn bushes...

Fucking A.

At this point I decide to simply lay there for a bit...my body is NOT in any way willing to sit up and move about.

Even now, showered and fed and beered and cigaretted...my tail bone aches, my wrist, shin, et all.  The camera was soaked so the film is probably destroyed -- pictures in the harness shed with Rich and myself and such...hit the ground and burned the roll off to take it in for processing immediately--maybe salvage something...

Finally got up, impossible to get the chute in the bag the right way, walk off forgetting my rucksack at first, the connector buckles (from the ruck to the chute) as well...the lowering line, normally attached to the chute harness, had come undone when I hit...

But finally, it was all over and done with...I found the ripcord to a reserve chute on my walk to the rally point, a nice souviner--a reminder it could certainly have been worse...

Ugh...so had the rest of the day of once we all got back (around 150ish).  Dropped off film, got dry cleaning, got dinner, a couple smokes, and popped netscape and a beer open...

My tenth jump and on a binary date to boot:10-01-11-00...never again in my life will such a combination occur...least I won't ever forget...it most certainly was exciting if nothing else!

I'm hoping the pix still come out somewhat...

Ahhhhh...
Hmmm...shifting tenses...whatever.  Vonnegut and Joyce and all them got away with it...that shit was commercially published too.  My journal?  Eh who cares then. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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