Tequila makes me...

"Tequila makes me break out in handcuffs." Aaron, one of the groundcrew

People I'd never met before this week, and whose names I still don't know, keep coming up and asking to see my tattoo. Kate Cooper saw it on Diane's Facebook page and posted it on the P3 Event Facebook page. It's faded away now and is barely discernible, but that's a good thing. I'm going to need room on that arm for the one I'm going to put on for Mission 100 in Montreal. At Diane's suggestion I went online and found a place that will make up a batch of those iron-on tattoos for less than a buck each if I get at least 200 of them. I'll flog them off at the event for $1 a piece and donate all the profits to the beer fund.

One of the Russians somehow had his main deploy while he was squeezing out into the middle of the floater lineup. And Bam! He was gone and hanging under his main at 18,000 feet. The same thing happened last summer in Montreal at Mission 100. At least it didn't go over the tail, that could have cost a lot more than just one guy missing from his slot. When an airplane suffers catastrophic damage in flight you don't just lose the plane, you usually lose everybody on it, parachutes rarely help.

Diane and I had bought a bunch of watermelons while drunk shopping at Winco the night before and we brought them out after the 3rd jump of the day. We started carving them up next to the creeper pad and at first nobody took any notice. Then Diane went over to manifest and had them make an announcement and the feeding frenzy was on! We had wondered if 4 was too many but the next time we do that we're going to get even more. A couple people came close to losing fingers as they snatched away pieces of melon while I was still slicing.

But all the watermelon in the world wouldn't have helped the the skydive. We built the completed formation on the first jump on day 3 and despite 2 days of trying we haven't been able to repeat our success since. Everybody has made it in multiple times but not all at the same time. People are getting stupid with the heat, and making bad decisions both in the air and on the ground. One girl who had developed a nosebleed earlier in the day but kept on going showed up for the last jump of the day without a rig and with her jump suit tied around her waist. As the dirt dive finished Josh spotted her and walked over to ask where her gear was. "I'm not going." she announced. And you waited until we were on a 10 minute call to say so?!?!? Not only was she not on that skydive but I'm reasonably certain she will never be on any skydive organised by P3 ever again.

The banquet was on Saturday night, and much silliness and stupidity, fueled by copious amounts of alcohol and certain herbs (we are in California!) ensued. We had prepared far more than the usual amount of Grey Goose and lemonade for the festivities and even a bottle of wine to go with dinner. It seemed that everybody else had the same idea and people were walking around offering shots of liquor and glasses of wine like it was watermelon. The Brits started some kind of drinking game and Doug Forth seemed to have an endless supply of assorted premium Tequila that he was determined to give away. I surprised that nobody got thrown in the pool, and started suggesting it to the Russians, who looked big enough to throw anybody anywhere they felt like. We finally left the party way too late, and it was still going strong.

Day 5
The energy level as we met for the 8 a.m. dirt dive was palpable. People had come from 25 countries scattered all over the world to build this thing, and we knew that this time we would build it, and then make a smooth progression to a second point. The first jump of each day had always been our best for the day, and you could tell that despite the party the night before that everybody was focused on doing the same today.

Kate Cooper started to recite the mantra she had used at Jump For The Cause: "Right here, right now, this skydive, my personal best." By the time she got to the second phrase half the people had recognized it and had taken it up. By the time she started it again we were all chanting it together, all 150 of us. When Dan sent us to our planes Tony Domenico lightened the mood when he shouted "Just get the Fuck In!"

The first jump of the day. Our best chance of pulling this off.

And we got fucked when the pilot of the A plane wound up out of position a few hundred feet back and a few hundred feet low. Everybody came out of their planes and started diving down to where they expected the base to be. By the time the people in the A plane realized something was wrong it was too late, only a few of them were able to correct their course and fight their way uphill to the formation.

To add injury to insult everybody who landed in the north field came in downwind when we followed the designated landing direction. As I turned onto final I could see clouds of dust being kicked up by bodies tumbling ass over tea kettle. I opted to slide in on my ass, sending handfuls of dirt up the legs of my jumpsuit and into my shoes, and when I came to a halt I was enveloped by a thick cloud of dust. Only one person who landed in that field stayed on his feet.When we returned to the packing area we were all warned to stay away from the pool area where Pat Conaster, the drop zone owner, was tearing out a new asshole for the pilot of the A plane. I heard he's an excellent pilot with thousands of hours, and a skydiver with 7,000 jumps, but he fucked up, and we all paid the price.

Maybe today the second jump of the day will be our best. But despite the pilots doing the best they had done all week, giving us the tightest formation possible, the good karma from this morning, all those positive vibes, were lost. There were still half a dozen people out at break off.

As I was preparing to turn onto my base leg for landing somebody went past me under what looked like a main parachute, trailing what looked like another main from it's pilot chute. I was trying to figure out what the heck that was all about when I spotted Larry Henderson coming my way under a pristine white 7 cell canopy. The color is what first struck me, there was no way that canopy had ever been opened on this DZ before and stayed so clean. I suddenly realized that it was his reserve, and that his main was probably the one that went by a few seconds earlier being dragged by the other guy. Canopy collision! 4 People have died on this DZ in the last year from those and there are now extremely strict rules to try and prevent them, but with this many canopies in the air....... I gave him a wide berth and he landed safely, though quite shaken up. Beth had gone out to the landing area with my camera and both guys flew right past her but she was so transfixed at the sight of the guy dragging the main that she never took a shot.

And that was that. We were done. 5 Days, 20 skydives, one complete, very complex, 151 way skydive. It seemed like way too much work for way too little success, but every time I look at the picture I get a gin from ear to ear.

We left late in the afternoon, Beth heading east to Palm Springs and Diane and I heading west to a hotel in LA so we'd have a short drive in the morning.

At the airport the next day I was standing in line at Starbucks when an elderly man behind me started poking fun at the complicated drink orders people were placing. I replied that I preferred to keep it simple, and was just ordering a tall blonde. For those of you that don't know the terminology, at Starbucks tall means small, and blonde means mild strength. Just then Diane showed up on the other side of the rope barrier and leaned over it to study the selection of muffins. The old guy nudged me and whispered "Now that's a tall blonde I wouldn't mind ordering!" Perfectly on cue Diane turned to me, handed me some cash saying " Grab me a blueberry one." When I turned to look at the guy he had a twinkle in his eye as he said "Maybe I should  order one!" A few minutes later they called Diane's flight, just before they called mine, and we said our goodbye's

That's it. This Adventure is over. It didn't provide the level of stupidity and entertainment that people have come to expect from these trips, but that was the plan. P3 is all about quality and success, about learning and improvement, leave the boogie mentality at home. The next big event will be Mission 100 in Montreal, and a new Canadian record. It will be a quality event as well, but since it will be a French-run event, I expect the entertainment factor to be a little higher. The French do know how to have fun. I'm already planning for that, including the cylinder of helium I've been dragging all about North America for the last year, and a couple hundred temporary tattoo's.