Behind every successful man....

We never did jump on Friday, we hung around doing the usual reading, napping, lying about our accomplishments, and speculating about who would be hooking up with who at the banquet scheduled for that night. We actually went so far as to get geared up late in the day as it started to clear, but blue sky lost the race against sunset, and just as it got clear enough to go, it got too dark to be putting 55 people up in the air. The banquet was the usual skydiver party. As we ate they played the videos from the jumps we
had been able to do. The party ended early so we could be on the creeper pad, at 8, in jumpsuits, no exceptions, no excuses.

The day was far from being a write-off as through the day people kept coming up to congratulate me on my performance during the morning dirt dive, and I got to hear the story being told and retold to any of the locals who had missed it. I'm looking forward to being sitting at a fire at a strange dropzone and hearing somebody tell the story of the nutcase that called out the organizers at the big way camp and got them to cough up beer.

When I got out of the shower on Saturday morning Matt asked me if I knew somebody named Tom from the states, and started trying to remember the name of his DZ. I reached into my drawer in the dresser and pulled out my "Endless Mountains Skydiving" T shirt. "That's it!" he said. He had just gotten off the phone with Tom as they discussed a Pilot 168 main that Matt was interested in. When Tom found out where Matt lived he asked "Do you know a guy named Larry?". Notable or notorious, I seem to be remembered everywhere I go. I wonder if Tom's heard the story about the guy at the big way camp yet?

A bunch of the local talent got added to the group Saturday to bring our total to 75. I'm flying the same slot I've been in for what seems like forever. It's at the point where I'd rather be at work, at least then I'd be
accomplishing something. One redeeming part is that my clone on the opposite side of the formation for all the endless dirt dives has been Monique. Apart from being quite nice to look at, we've been making faces at each other, crossing our eyes, and generally trying to make each other laugh and lose concentration. The other fun has been listening to Brian give Michel Lemay, former captain of Evolution, the 3rd ranked 4-way team in the world, advice on how to handle the front float slot. Brian did a great job in that slot the previous week and thought Michel could benefit from his experience in handling a physically demanding, and damn cold, slot. The people who don't know Brian's sense of humor were aghast that anybody would tell Michel how to skydive, with Brian milking it for all he can as he talked later about how he thought "The guy will probably be okay if he does as I told him"

When we went out to the driest field we could find to practice the exit people kept asking me if I was front float, quoting Dan BC's curse from the previous day "You will be front float for the rest of your life, and so will
your children, and your children's children".

It's almost noon, we are again standing by to stand by, wearing jumpsuits, eating, sleeping, napping. Brian has started a pool on what time the lead plane will leave the ground when (if) we finally take off. It's a fifty -
fifty draw at a dollar a head with the winner getting half, and the rest being spent on beer. He only started a short time ago and he's already up to 58 bucks.

Behind every successful man, there's a surprised woman. And if this skydive ever does get off the ground the surprised woman who will be behind me is Nesta Chapman. She was one of the late arrivals and hasn't jumped at all since she arrived. She claims the whole event is a conspiracy to draw patrons for the Bomb Shelter.