Boredom is the root.....

Boredom is the root of most skydiving injuries.

We have spent an awful lot of time sitting around, waiting for the weather to break. If this was a regular boogie mass stupidity would have broken out long before now. Creeper races, creeper curling and bowling, increasingly complicated accuracy contests that may involve doing hop and pops or maybe just any conveniently nearby tall object. People would be getting towed around behind vehicles on skateboards, bicycles, and of course creepers, which would cause a whole host of pointless and of course dangerous contests to be invented. Somebody would by now have come up with some way to take advantage of all the lakes that cover the DZ using surfboards, boogie boards, or just a piece of plywood. The consumption of alcohol would have commenced by noon, mud wrestling would be a distinct possibility, and by mid afternoon the drop zone would have become a sideshow. The trouble with trouble is that it starts out as fun. At a boogie the safest place to be is usually up in the air. A lot of people would have left to go and explore southern California, visit San Diego or LA.

But not here. We just stand by to stand by, reading, napping, eating, hanging out. This is an organized event, we can't even leave the airport until we have been released for the day.

Woke up Thursday morning to dense fog. We don't get to go back to sleep, we have to be at the airport, on the creeper pad, in jumpsuits, for 8 o'clock. Rain or shine. Period. No exceptions. We go through the planned skydive again, walk the landing areas to see if there are any places you might be able to land and not get completely soaked and muddy, then it's back to reading, napping, eating, hanging out. Around noon the organizers decided it was clearing and worth trying, so we geared up, took off, and climbed to altitude. We circled twice at 16,500 feet, but the clouds had closed in again so we came back down.

Standing by to stand by...........

Finally at 3:30 they called everybody to the creeper pad to go over the dive one last time and add in the people who had been trickling in through the day. Doug posted everybody's slot and a picture of the planned dive, and everybody took their assigned position. Well, almost everybody.

As I explained before, Doug hands out beer fines for committing various infractions, the fine ranging from a six pack for a minor grip error, to a 12 pack for not approaching the formation correctly, to a full case of 24
for doing something really stupid. But if we make it to the end of the day, and he hasn't handed out a single fine, he buys beer for everybody. We were almost at the end of the day, and so far he hadn't handed out a single fine.

And he has never had to buy beer.

We all lined up on the ground in the spots we would be in our plane, with the planes arranged in the "V" shape they would be in on jump run. I had checked the plan carefully, seen that I would be flying the same slot as I
had been assigned on the previous dive, and went to the same place on the same plane as I had been in before. There was lot of confusion though among a group of us as to who was supposed to be exactly where in the plane. After much milling around and getting nowhere, Kate Cooper finally ran back to check the plan, and returned to lay her hand upon my shoulder, look me in the eyes and gently say "You're in the wrong plane darling". At that precise moment I heard a jubilant Doug Forth bellow "LARRY MAULSBY!" as he was
looking at the plan in his hands, and the empty slot in the left trail plane.

Crap!

To peals of laughter from everyone present I sprinted across to my slot to be greeted by Doug, one hand in the air, fist clenched in victory as he pointed at me and shouted "Case of Beer!" He was off the hook.

It so sucks to be me.

I've been sick for the last few days with a cold. It started as a minor sinus problem and has now settled in my chest and throat. I'm finding it difficult to breathe and my throat is like sandpaper. Everybody has been giving various sinus, allergy, and cold medications, prescription and non prescription, in foil backed blister packages that I have been taking in no particular order because the printing on the foil is too small so I can't read them without my glasses so I don't actually know what I'm taking. Deciding a more scientific approach was necessary I talked to the trained medical professional on our team - Diane, she drives an ambulance - and she
closely examined the various medications. She said I should cut back on the white ones and the orange and green ones, stop taking the yellow ones, and that she thought the little orange ones were birth control pills that I could take if I really wanted too. I could have 2 blue ones per day, and all the red ones I wanted, but that I shouldn't take any more of the blue and yellow ones I got from Brian because they were for treating some bizarre infection involving eels he contracted while travelling in the tropics and they would probably make my appendages rot and fall off. I still don't know what's in the rest of the pills I'm still taking but I'm reassured now that I've consulted a pro. Professional, that is.

The forecast for Friday morning is rain. At 8 o'clock we'll be on the creeper pad, in jumpsuits, shivering, coffee in hand, to go through the dive again.

Then it's stand by to stand by.......