Off and crawlin' like a Herd of Turtles..............

Warning

The following emails will contain graphic stories of an adult nature,
including but not limited to: violence, coarse language, consumption of
large amounts of alcohol, sex, gratuitous nudity, and of course, skydiving,
that some readers may find offensive. If past experience is any guide, the
participants will display a complete disregard for the rules of man, the
laws of nature, basic physics, and every standard of common decency that
civilized people live by. The participants are all of legal age and have
entered into these activities of their own free will, and have assumed all
risk of any injury howsoever caused that they may suffer as a result of
these activities. In turn, the reader assumes all risk for any trauma,
emotional, mental, or physical, that they may suffer as a result of reading
these emails. It is worth noting that the former grade 7 teacher of the
writer receives these emails, and while she finds the stories to be a
fascinating glimpse into the depravity the human soul is capable of, she has
never been offended by any of the activities depicted therein. Not even when
Paul Cincinatto tried to pick up the scary-big woman at the Golden Corral
all-you-can-eat Buffet during the Canadian Invasion to collect on a bet
worth pocket change, and that was quite possibly the most tasteless thing
ever done by anyone. Ever.

Strangely, while many people have questioned my judgment for including some
of the incidents that have occurred on these trips, they unfailingly express
concern about someone else being offended, rather than themselves, and they
have all insisted that they wish to continue to recieve these emails.

The emails themselves will be a more or less accurate description of the
recollections of the writer concerning the events as they actually occurred.

Mostly. The writer reserves the right to include a degree of satire,
ridicule, social commentary, and poetic license, that should in no way
compromise the underlying facts of the events as they have occurred. Unless
of course someone is so offended at what they have read that they are
considering legal action, in which case, I was just kidding! And if you read
carefully, you'll realize that the person I make the most fun of is.........
myself

Prologue
For nine months the plan was for Gerry Cluett and I to go on what was
shaping up to be the Ultimate Road Trip. He booked the passenger seat for
this summer's odyssey just after I left on last summer's Ultimate Road Trip.
He hasn't been let off the leash since the Great Mile High Parachuting
Florida Road Trip of 05. First, I was going to take a buddy for a surprise
tandem on his fortieth birthday, then Gerry and I would take off for a week
at Summerfest in Chicago, followed by storming into Burnaby for the POPS
Record attempt, the Canadian Nationals, and a 40-way camp with Doug Forth,
and finally, Dan and Cheryl's Newfie wedding. The only part that worried me
was the Newfie wedding. The skydiving road trip fueled by cheap booze
adrenaline and testosterone I knew could handle, but a wedding in
Newfoundland takes the partying to a whole new level of excess. The girl who
does the scheduling at work insisted on giving me several extra days off to
recover before I returned to work. She's from Newfoundland, so I guess she'd
know.

Every detail was meticulously planned, every contingency covered, alternate
plans made for every possible roadblock. It was therefore inevitable that
the whole plan would blow up in my face. So it is that I departed 2 days
late, minus Gerry, (I'm not sure if that makes me more dangerous, or less
dangerous) and heading in the exact opposite direction to the one originally
planned. The only part of this whole thing that has come even close to
following the plan was John Regan's tandem, and it was a week late. I have
given up most of my trip to Summerfest to make time for some last-minute
training with the team to prepare for Nationals, and to spend a couple more
days with Nathalie before the nonsense really gets started. I don't really
mind, it's all fun, Tunnel on Friday and Saturday, fourth row tickets to see
John Cleese at the comedy festival on Sunday, departing Montreal Monday
morning at a dangerous and unsafe speed, stereo blasting, hoping to get to
"Larry and Joanne's World Famous Drive Through Beer Window" in the parking
lot at Skydive Chicago before they close for the night to return to their
hotel room for some really serious drinking, which according to Larry is the
real reason he goes on vacation. Failing that, I will be sneaking into The
Swamp at a suitably (stupidly?) early hour on Tuesday to be first in line
for the coffee Phil will have loaded and set up with a timer the night
before.

The truck is loaded quite differently than it has been in past years. I've
applied for a NEXXUS card to be able to cross the border more easily, but
that means if I get caught smuggling the amount of Canadian Beer I usually
take with me they will impound the truck, throw me in jail, and slap me with
enough fines to pay off the National Debt of most Latin American countries.
Instead, I'm bringing a tent, air, mattress, sleeping bags, a bicycle, an
espresso maker, and a full set of creepers. If the guy at the border starts
asking questions, the thing that will get the most interest is sure to be
the creepers. I'm trying to figure out the simplest way to explain why 4
adults would lie on these things and roll around on them for hours at a
time, pretending they're skydiving.

I'm also bringing a high-pressure water pistol. This time when I run "The
Gauntlet", I'm planning on fighting back!

There will be an added bonus to the Burnaby portion of the trip: Dan and his
Best Man Casey will be there for the first weekend of the boogie, allowing
me the opportunity to turn a whole fresh crop of drunken skydivers loose on
the Groom-To-Be. It will be pretty difficult to out-do what happened to him
at his stag however. The last I saw of him he was dressed in purple tights
and a pink fishnet tank top, a white fright wig on his head, and a hollow
plastic penis permanently attached to his hand by a cast, to properly
prepare him to go and hit the bars. Yes, a plastic penis, and a cast. The
reason it was hollow was so that beer could be poured into it for him to
drink out of, through the strategically placed hole in the end, and the
reason it was a cast was because it was felt that if they just Krazy Glued
it on he could rip it loose. This is what happens when your friends are a
bunch of medics. There were plenty of pictures taken of course, I'm simply
waiting for the proper time to distribute them. I'm thinkin' maybe during
the banquet following Nationals.

Overall, I expect this adventure will be pretty tame compared to some of the
ones in the past, but then that was what I thought about the last Canadian
Invasion, and it certainly provided it's share of moments of farce, drama,
tragedy, high comedy, and of course, stupidity, that people have come to
expect from these journeys. Except for the newfie wedding of course. Between
the fact that the wedding will be held in St. John's, and that I'm the only
male member of the wedding party not in the Army, it promises to throw all
standards of decorum and good taste right out the window.

Next stop, Summerfest. If Larry and Joanne's World Famous Drive Through Beer
Window is closed when I get there, I should be arriving at the height of the
Flying Hellfish Toga Party. It would be a perfect time to make an entrance.
Crazy Larry