I've been drunk for a month, I've been drunk since I left
These so-called vacations will soon be my death
I'm so sick from the drink I need home for a rest"
Spirit of the West
It's not that we've been partying hard since we got here, we do have to get
up early and be able to perform at a high level of ability, but it's more a
cumulative effect. Plus the fact that the booze here is so cheap it would be
a shame not to take advantage of it.
I ran out to pick us up Chinese food for dinner Friday night, and on the way
back I came up behind a large white slow moving 4X4 and just blasted past
it, paying more attention to the tachometer that was winding up to the
redline than to the truck. The speedometer was reading 210 km/h and still
climbing when the red white and blue strobes lit up the road behind me. I'd
just gone screaming past the local Sherriff. By the time I stopped I was
within sight of the sign on the highway pointing the way to the drop zone.
When he got out of the truck this guy was even bigger than the deputy I
talked to in Pennsylvania and he wasn't pleased. He stood there, using words
like "ya'll", and "boy" as he asked me the usual questions about did I know
how fast I was going and did I know what the speed limit was along there. I
tried telling him what my speedometer had read, and that I was confused by
the conversion from kilometers to miles an hour and he cut me off saying
he'd heard all that before. When he asked where I was going I pointed to the
sign and said I was here on a skydiving vacation. He seemed to relax a
little bit when I told him that.
As he stood there holding all my paperwork, he suddenly started moving his
head back and forth, sniffing the air, and asked "What's that smell?"
"Chinese food." I replied, pointing to the saddle bag. He looked at the bag,
then at me, then my paperwork, the sign for the DZ, back down at the
saddlebag, and suddenly started to laugh. Not an evil "I'm going to lock
ya'll up and throw away the key" type laugh, but the kind of deep from the
belly type laugh that made his whole body shake and probably left his sides
hurting. I don't know what the joke was, nor do I care, as he thrust the
paperwork back at me and said loudly and firmly "Slow down!" before turning
on his heel to go back to his truck. I meekly and gratefully got back on the
bike to very slowly drive the last few yards of highway to the DZ. I don't
know what the penalty is for driving at Warp 6 in this state, but I'm
betting it would involve getting arrested and the bike getting towed. I
fully expect to get a speeding ticket at some point on this trip, but I
thought it would happen at Deals Gap.
We had a 7:00 a.m. call on Saturday morning to try and get some jumps in
before we got winded out, but all we succeeded in doing was getting a real
early start at doing nothing. When we pulled the curtains back in the
trailer just before leaving for the dirt dive it was still pitch black
outside and we shared a laugh as we heard somebody outside shouting about
"Night 60-ways!" It wouldn't have been much different than what we had done
the day before because I had my eyes screwed shut in terror for a good
portion of the jump anyways. I've attached a pic of us on our 20 minute
call.
We all showed up at 7, drinking coffee and eating donuts as we made jokes
about the darkness and the winds that were already too strong to jump in.
Guy told us the forecast for Sunday was good, but that the winds for
Saturday would just get worse and he released us for the day.
So we went to the beach. One last ride with the two of us on the FZ, the
winds so strong we were making involuntary lane changes. The beach wasn't as
nice as it normally was, at times we felt like we were getting sandblasted
as we lay there.
The back of Nathalie's legs have enough bruises on them she looks like
someone snuck up behind her with a bingo marker, but overall there has been
surprisingly little damage given the number of skydives we've done and the
number of people involved.
After Guy had a rally for the troops late in the afternoon he turned us
loose and ordered us to go forth and party. There was free booze and beer
everywhere, all the stuff everybody had been hoarding came out, and plenty
of people were paying fines for various milestones. Then we went to Ruby
Tuesday's and proceeded to drink far more than was wise, spilling wine and
making enough noise to empty our end of the restaurant.
Sunday morning
Showed up for the dirt dive yesterday with my gear and a flashlight, showed
up today with my gear and an umbrella, dressed in my motorcycle rain suit.
It was pouring.
Several people gave me a hard time about showing up with my gear in the rain
and I explained it this way: "In January 2004 in Arizona I showed up late
for a dirt dive, without my suit, or my gear. One of the locals, a skydiver
of some minor note named Kirk (but not such minor note as an un-named
videographer of a badly dressed crew team) pulled me aside, and in a quiet
voice explained that it was good form to arrive on time for the dirt dive,
with your suit on, and your gear ready to go. I've never been late since,
and I always bring my suit." They stopped teasing me, I don't know anybody
who would contradict Kirk.
We were released until 11:00, it's now 10:30 and still pouring. If we don't
go up soon there's a bottle of Baileys calling my name from the counter
saying "Coffee and Baileys, breakfast of Champions!". I'm not sure how much
longer I can resist.
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