Illigitimis Non Carborundum

Friday, Day 8

You know your girlfriend is really a skydiver when you tell her about going a little bit low on a jump, and about biting your ex-girlfriend's twin sister's ass, and she gives you shit for going low, but not for biting some strange girls ass. Speaking of which, Beth has a big bite shaped bruise and has vowed revenge. I spent the day looking over my shoulder.

Skydive Arizona treated us to an alfresco gourmet dinner last night. Hot dogs potato chips and draft beer while we huddled around a bunch of burning trash barrels. It was cool, but not cold, well into the evening. Not that we drank a lot but I remember somebody saying to me "You try and stand up first so then you can help me". The party moved off to a couple of rooms at the SkyRider Inn, and apparently they took the keg with them. Lyal was searching for it this morning thinking somebody had stolen it.

The Scrambles started this morning. They put together teams consisting of one low, one medium, and one experienced Skydiver. There were 3 dives with 3 points each and you had to do a 360 degree turn in between. For the last jump we got to take the DC 3. It's a piece of aviation history, and an important part of skydiving history, but it sucks as a jump plane. This one is actually soundproofed (a relative term), but it's still like riding in a big steel drum with a bunch of Japanese Kubota drummers beating like crazy on the outside of it. It climbs like a brick with an anvil tied to it, the door is so small you pop bodies out of it like a champagne cork, and if you're leaving from the outside it sprays oil all over you as you cling to the side of the plane.

Our team did okay, scoring 5-6-6 on our rounds. Beth's team shoulda won a special prize, I'm just not sure what category you would put it into. When they landed from one jump Cam and Jeff started were trying to decide if they had gone through the whole skydive 3 or 4 times and Beth stepped in saying
"No, we got through it 2 1/2 times and then you two started arguing about whether or not it was time for breakoff". For those of you who don't know, breakoff is the agreed upon altitude at which you all separate and track away from each other to get clear airspace to deploy a parachute before the laws of physics stuff a planet up your ass. It seem Jeff and Cam spent a couple thousand feet having a lively and spirited argument, complete with hand gestures that would do a third base coach proud, over whether or not it
was time to turn and track like their lives depended on it. Because it does!

All was well, they didn't go low thank heavens, because their girlfriends would probably tear a strip off of them.

After the fun was over we went to Chili's for dinner with the Winnipeg crew. When we got there Tim and I both ordered drinks at the bar, and got served, but once we were seated at a table and the rest of the people tried to order drinks, some problems started. They carded everybody. There is a law in this state that says if someone appears to be under 40 years of age they must produce identification to order a drink. Vickie had no ID and couldn't get a drink period, despite Brian claiming to be her Father and that he would
vouch for her age. They even carded Brian, who is a 55 year old retired civil servant. When I asked if I would have to produce ID to order a drink the child who was serving us took an appraising look at me and said "No, you're good". I'm looking across the table at Brian, who looks old enough to have had dinosaurs as pets, sitting there with a big shit eating grin on his face because he just got carded, but I look old enough I don't have to prove I can order booze?

Afterwards when we went to Wal-Mart to get food and beer (you can always get Canadian Beer at Wal-Mart) Tim got carded. Beth promptly piped up with "I'm 34 and would love to show you my ID!". She enthusiastically hauled her knapsack from her back to prove she was of age. Where we come from you only have to be 19 to drink, and they only card you if you look like you're in high school, so she figures it's a great compliment to be carded.

Goodnight all, it's 9 o'clock and time to stroll the 100 feet or so across the parking lot to the Bent Prop for a couple of drinks with Beth and Tim.

The Big-way camp begins tomorrow athe ungodly hour of 7:30, and I have to wonder what the heck I was thinking of when I signed up for that.

"Illigitimis Non Carborundum"
Don't Let The Bastards Grind You Down
Crazy Larry