Nobody makes a fool out of me...

Nobody makes a fool out of me. I'm the do it yourself type.

After spending a sleepless night getting all worked up and psyching myself out we arrived at the airport early to stake out our spot and get well stretched. After much deliberation I decided to start the day with 17 pounds of weight, which was almost all that my two belts would hold. Diane laughed and said it would be a "good start!". Kate Cooper is well known for encouraging people to err on the heavy side, especially for their first jump in a new slot on a formation. Diane had planned ahead and mailed 30 pounds of weights to herself care of manifest at the drop zone. The US Postal Service has a container about the size of a shoe box that they will mail anywhere in North America for $12, with no weight limit. If it'll fit, they'll take it. It beat the hell out of hauling it with our luggage.

We started losing people before the event even began, with cancellations bringing it down to 151 people. Then Vladimir from Argentina had his Automatic Activation Device (AAD) fire on a fun jump on Tuesday. At this DZ if you don't get your pilot chute out before your AAD has to fire and save your life you're grounded for 30 days, no exceptions. He's taking it well, and is helping out by being a gopher for the organizers. Our morning briefing took 50 minutes, with about 45 minutes of it taken up by a safety briefing delivered by Dan B.C. himself.

We've come up with a foolproof method to avoid getting caught off guard by a short gear up call: Watch for a Russian running around in the packing area in their underwear. A lot of them wear as little as possible under their jumpsuits because of the heat, and when one of them starts stripping down that invariably means a gear up call is imminent. Unfortunately it's not some hot babe stripping down to a skimpy see-thru push up bra and thong, but a bunch of overweight, pasty skinned, older men wearing ratty white briefs that look as though they came off a dead Frenchman during Napoleons retreat from Moscow. But at least we're on time for our loads.

Because I'm front float I've been given a radio to tuck into the inside pocket of my jumpsuit with an earphone to help coordinate climb outs and the exit count. Dan B.C. will do a ten second count down, then "Ready, Set, Go!" when it's time to leave. At first it was just one more thing to be stressed about but after a couple of jumps I was used to it and it made my exit timing a lot easier. Which was good, because it was just about the only thing I did right today.

On the first jump I launched off and dove to where I expected the base to be, which put me 200 feet lower than it was. With all that lead around my waist there was no way I was going to fight my way back up.

On the second jump I dropped half the lead and tracked up so hard and so high after exit that I couldn't dive down in time to make my slot before break off. The 35 people behind me couldn't dock for 2 dives in a row because I wasn't there. Josh traded slots with me so he could lead everybody down and I started to worry about being moved somewhere else, or maybe even getting cut.

On my third dive the visor on my helmet came unlatched and slammed open just as I was coming in to dock. I reached up with both hands and slammed it shut only to have it pop open again as soon as I took grips. I didn't want to let go to close it again and spent the rest of the skydive with the added drag of the visor hauling my head back to a painful angle. I had a much better jump than one guy though. When my parachute opened he was directly in front of me spinning like crazy with major line twists and dropping like a safe. before I my brain even had a chance to process what I was seeing he had cutaway and was suddenly under a bright orange reserve.

by the time the day was over the high point for me was getting a ride back from a distant landing area in the back of a pickup truck with a hot British chick in my lap.

I'm sure tomorrow will be better.