FlyinNover

Who's that freeflyer at the Comcast Home Page? If you see Christina Milian instead, or something about "Stay Safe Online", scroll through the pictures. It looks like he's doing some headdown over a coast......yellow camera helmet, purple goggles, yellow and blue jumpsuit. (Looking at it it *may* be a woman. Sorry if I called you a dude!) I can't get the movie at the moment, so that's all I saw. I wonder if he's on here. Whoever it is, I think he owes beer for being on Comcast's page.

What can you tell me about what I have to do to camp at Crosskeys? I'm not from out of town, as Crosskeys is my local DZ, but I don't know anything about camping there. I know that camping is available, but beyond that I'm lost. Do I need to register in advance, or is it cool to just ask the day I show up if I can throw down the tent at the end of the night? Thanks for all the help. I'm asking here rather than calling X-Keys for a few reasons: 1) It's 2:40 am, and I wouldn't want to call and interrupt their party. 2) Out-of-towners probably have some pointers that locals wouldn't know or think were important. Thanks in advance. ---Nover

Just my opinion, but here you are: The first time I ever smoked pot (at my high school, right after the prom.) I hated it, because it made me feel stupid all night, and the "weed hangover" I had the next day made me feel so out of it I felt like I missed the first part of Sesame Street and didn't know what the Letter Of The Day was. I felt exactly the way that stoners look like they feel: a prolonged, elongated "Duh". I didn't do it again for a long time. Then I did it some more. And by god it was fun. Food *does* taste better, music *does* sound better, and sex *is* better. You might make fun of stoned people for staring at a still picture for thirty minutes straight, but from their point of view, the picture is that f'in cool. Pot smells good, makes you feel good, takes away the drunk feeling (I used to make not-good decisions), and it's a social drug that far surpasses booze and cigarettes in how it brings people together to have fun. And it's cheap. I got high as much as I wanted to for less than $50 a week. You can't get drunk everyday for that price, and I know (not personally) that most other drugs are more expensive than that. BUT, when you do it a lot, that changes. You get lazy, and you get stupid. (Which aren't good attributes for skydivers, by the way.) Doing it a lot you might find yourself rolling out of bed while the sun is on its way down, ordering takeout for a week because you don't feel like going to the supermarket, and avoiding doing things with your friends because you'd rather smoke in the morning, which means you won't be able to drive until like 6 or 7 PM. And you don't dream. Or at least you don't remember your dreams. And my dreams are fun, like a Twilight Zone marathon every night. When I finally realized I wasn't remembering my dreams (like I said, it makes you stupid), I really missed that, and I stopped. Plus, when you don't do it often, that makes it better when you do smoke. So there you go. Try it out if you want, in a safe environment. Make sure you don't have to drive or do anything else important........although the biggest decision you'll probably have to make is whether to pass out *right here* or slog your way up to bed. Do yourself a favor: find Bill Hicks' standup comedy routine on the benefits of pot over beer. Good stuff, even if you can't identify with what he's talking about. "Look, a job has been created!" ---Nover Edited to add that this thread looks like it was hijacked. :)

The funniest line I've ever seen actually work was: "Wanna?" Granted, it was 4am at the Phi Delt house, but it worked! Don't give piggyback rides after 9 Coronas, ---Nover

Someone needs to confirm this, but I'm pretty sure that John Eddowes (Crosskeys DZO) recently bought Sussex. A few of the TIs were daytripping up to Sussex earlier this summer. ---Nover

---Nover

Has anyone ever gotten a memorial tattoo for someone while they were still alive, and then showed it to them? I know it's a weird question, here's where it came from. My buddy's dad is like 70. He's always wanted a tattoo of a Batman symbol with BAT written in it. (His brothers and sisters names are Beth, Anthony and Tim.) The batman symbol is relevant to them, somehow. Anyway, he just got the tattoo and his kids (and ex-wife) were saying how weird it was, and how odd that he got it. I thought it was as cool an idea as you can have for a tattoo. Which got me thinking, what would my family say if I got, say, a golf ball tattoo with my Dad's initials. (He's damn cool.) It's a cool idea to get a tattoo like that after someone dies, but wouldn't it be much more...fulfilling, I guess.....to get it while they're alive and then show it to them? Maybe it would be, maybe not. I'd rather show someone a tribute while they can appreciate it, rather than after they're gone. You know, like how people say they like hearing eulogies and it's a shame they'll only miss their own by a few days. ---Nover

To keep this thread at the top.... I just found out that I work with the lead singer of the Badlees. (Anyone know them? They did "Fear of Falling" on the album River Songs.) It's a great song and seems like it would be cool for skydivers.....(Last night I dreamt of flying over hillsides in the snow/And I dove down through the clouds to the valley there below) but it's not, really. The next line is "When the fields turned into parking lots my freedom turned to dread/the ground rose up to meet me and I jumped up out of bed." Oh, and another time I was working in a restaurant and there were these six or seven dudes hanging around after their meal. I asked them what their deal was (obviously out-of-town, obviously on some kind of business trip, but they weren't business types.) They said they were a band (and their managers). I asked them what kind of sound they played. "Well, it's sort of country-bluegrass-rock. But it's a little more rock than country, but some of our songs are........oh hell.....do you know that song "I Should Be Sleeping" by Emerson Drive?" "Yeah...I just heard that song on the radio. Do you guys sound like them?" "Uh.....um.....we *are* them." ---Nover

That reminds me of a joke. An engine goes out on a trans-atlantic passenger flight. The pilot says on the intercom: "I apologize for the invconvenience, but with only three engines, our trip will take 9 hours, not 8 hours." A few minutes later another engine goes out. "I'm sorry again folks, but with two engines, our trip will now take 10 hours." A third engine goes down, but the pilot is reasurring. "Folks, the third engine just went dead. Everything is safe and we can absolutely make our destination without any problems. It will just take another hour." Just then a passenger leans over to his wife and says, "Gee, I hope the fourth engine doesn't die. Then we'll be up here all day!" ---Nover

Harry and the Hendersons? Wasn't there a movie before the sitcom? I remember reading the book, too. (Having parents who inspire you to read is a great thing. Having parents who don't recommend books.....well, sometimes you read some crap.) By the way, to keep this on-topic, when Dan Marino was in college, he partied in what would later be my fraternity house. Cool! ---Nover

I'm figuring that anyone with a penchent for writing had something to say about their first jump. Here's what I wrote. What did you write? Okay, so techincally this was about my *third* jump, but it was the first jump I did with definite plans to continue. (Check the end of the post for my question about this.) I wrote this in a discussion group on Usenet that I've been reading and posting to for a bunch of years. Please disregard the things I got wrong (such as the Instructor only giving explanations "on the way up." I know extremely little about skydiving now, and when I wrote this I knew nothing.) ----- So this summer I'm getting certified as a skydiver. By autumn I'll be able to jump without instructors, and hopefully anywhere I want. (I'm looking forward to jumping in North Jersey. There is a dropzone up there that is close enough that, when you are up in the air, you can see NYC.) This morning I took my first jump as a student. It was tandem, which means I was harnessed to an instructor for the jump. Mark Norman has been jumping for six years. He's been an instructor for most of that time. He checked our equipment compulsively. He repeated everything important he said to me. On the way up he taught me all the things I need to do for my T1, or first Tandem training jump. Hand signals, altimeter, the four S's, remember to arch. I've jumped twice before, in a tandem, but this was my first with the intention of becoming licensed. Another student was in the plane with us. (All the non-certifieds are called students. I guess they just can't conceive how you would only want to do this once.) He was getting the same instructions from his tandem partner. That instructor is called "Pancake". I was glad I was with Mark. Since I've been twice already, I wasn't nervous at all. I might have looked bored, even, which Mark must have interpreted as anxiety, because he repeated how important it was to relax. Since Monday, when I decided to go, and on the whole drive to the airport, and while putting on the harness, even while feeling the plane lift off the runway, I was calm and unexcited during it all. Then the door opened. My stomach dropped a hundred feet, it seemed. Which was convenient since the rest of me was about to do the same, and then some. Now, a minute sounds small, but it's a LONG time. Sit there and count out sixty seconds. That's how long we fell, free from everything except gravity. There's nothing skydiving can be compared to. It's not "like" anything else, whether it's bungee jumping, diving underwater, floating.......it's more unique than that. It's almost as if you're suspended on a cushion of air, but you're falling downwards at 120mph. (And it's important to remember that fact.) After a few practice moves, 90 degree turns, and altimeter checks, we pulled the ripcord. All of a sudden.......it was silent. I felt a little shake as we went from a falling position to hanging from the chute.......and it was silent. And beautiful. It seemed like 20 minutes as we weaved back and forth over the drop zone, but it was actually only 5. I looked up and to the right and saw the other student and his jumpmaster. We floated down through 500 feet, and circled around over the airplane hangar. I thought we'd land right on a plane (and the propellers were still spinning, which didn't make me feel good at all), but we weaved over the grass and touched down twenty feet from the hangar. I was glad to feel the ground under my feet again, but I was already thinking about when I could do it again. ObQuote: If riding in an airplane is flying, then riding in a boat is swimming. If you want to experience the element, then get out of the vehicle. -Unk. I watched him strap on his harness and helmet, climb into the cockpit and, minutes later, a black dot falls off the wing two thousand feet above our field. At almost the same instant, a white streak behind him flowered out into the delicate wavering muslin of a parachute -- a few gossamer yards grasping onto air and suspending below them, with invisible threads, a human life, and man who by stitches, cloth, and cord, had made himself a god of the sky for those immortal moments. -Charles A. Lindbergh, contemplating his first parachute jump, _The Spirit of St Louis_, 1953 ----- My "how many jumps" question: So in my logbook I count my third jump as my first jump. It doesn't really matter in the big scheme of things, and it will matter less and less as I jump more and more. But I'm wondering if anyone else did this, and why. My first two jumps were tandems, done about three years apart from each other, the second one being five years before I started AFF. I don't count them in my logbook for two reasons: One, when I did them I didn't have any definite intention to continue jumping. Two, my instructor wrote it as one and I was so juiced I didn't even notice. No big deal anyway. I figure that a lot of us started just by "trying it once" and then didn't jump again for a long time. Do you count those first jumps? ---FlyinNover

I went to the same elementary school as Bill Haley's kids. He wrote "Rock Around The Clock", the theme song to Happy Days. One of my good friends is Radar O'Reilly's daughter. I went to the High School that inspired the movie "Echoes In The Darkness." (If you don't know, it's better to leave it that way.) Two of my grade-school friends are military fighter pilots. My old roommate has an ex-girlfriend who is the daughter of the guy who invented Teflon. My dad was an extra in The Blob. I live in the same town where M. Knight Shyamalan-alama-ding-dong grew up. (And one of the chicks from Survivor used to live here.) I know a guy who jumps out of planes. On purpose!!! I used to work in the building that was Aaron Burr's headquarters during the American Revolution. But there's nothing interesting about me. ---FlyinNover

Skydiving is the greatest sport in the world. I love TT. Who's TT? ---Nover

Quote Anyway, the coolest part of that place is when you get to altitude, (*On a clear day or night jump) you can see the skyline of NYC. Quote Are there other DZs where you can see the NYC skyline? That's something I want to put on my list. I like clear days at Crosskeys when you can see Philly and Atlantic City. ---Nover

I was at X-Keys that day. Father's Day, wasn't it? I heard it was 150 feet. I didn't see it, but I did hear the big KLANG of his brass balls, though. Did you see Will swooping the demo tent? Sweeeet ---Nover

I'm curious: Without naming names (obviously), what are some of the reasons you've seen people given the speech? I mean specifically. Did they go fetal and need an Instructor to pull for them? Did they flake out under canopy and just fly it straight from opening to landing, not even unstowing the brakes? In a sport (Phreezone's sig is awesome, btw) that demands concentration and awareness, I'm sure we've all at times felt like we're not up to it.......but what have these people done that makes their Instructor or other experienced jumper tell them they're not cut out for it? Like I said, just curious. I ain't quittin this. Not as long as there's still gas to keep the planes flyin. (edited because I spelled "obviously" like I've never written in English before.) ---Nover

Don't let that get in the way of your juggling practice. ---Nover

Thanks! I haven't seen that since I was applying for college. It is where I got the idea, but you konw, that made everythign up! ---Nover

That's not me you're thinking of......I wasn't around in the early 70s, since I really *am* -2.8 years old in Celsius. (I'm 27.) Thanks for the welcome! ---Michael

How exactly does one figure out who is "really good at predicting the end of the world"? Isn't it true that everyone who has ever predicted the end of the world has been wrong 100% of the time? That's not a batting average I'd wager heavily on. ---Nover

My first tandem was a Christmas present from my parents when I was 17. My birthday is in July, so I waited 7 months. During that time, my Dad, my brother, both of my sister, and my parent's friend "Uncle" Bod decided to jump too. (One of my sisters was a jumper already.) It was incredible sharing that with my whole family, even if Mom was content to just watch. I'm planning on buying my Dad another tandem for his 60th. I wonder, what is the record for the largest formation of skydivers who are related? ---Nover

How about also including an aerial shot of each dropzone? Maybe with the outs highlighted? After my last jump (first out landing) I thought that might be good for jumpers visiting other DZs. Of course it's not as good as asking the local jumpers where the outs are, but it's something. Beer bought, beer drank, ---Nover

Actually I don't, but when I wrote that I did! It's a few years old.....hence the hanging chad and Apple commercial references. That's what happens when your boss says, "I need you to write a creative description of yourself. Have fun with it." She should have been more clear. ---Nover

Okay, I've been lurking here for a while. Now it's time for a little introduction. I realized that you don't know very much about me. Here are a few secrets: I was born at a very young age on the banks of the Mighty Mississippi, back when it was called the Sorta Big Mississippi. Then I was raised by a pack of Minnesota Timberwolves high in the Beverly Hills. I learned to walk at one month, to drive at four months, but after a year I still had problems with fractions. I am 27 years old, but only -2.8 in Celsius. It is possible for me to have my cake and eat it too. I can sing in three languages, but only in minor keys. Glue has no effect on me. My car has twelve speeds, but my bicycle is automatic. I solve calculus problems in my spare time and my toes have been the subject of three PBS documentaries. The grass is greener on both sides of me. I don't have a fence. I have often been in the same place at two times. Psychics call me for advice, and I only occur once in a blue moon. I make gin in my bathtub, whiskey in my pants, and there’s rum in my stockings. Three fingers on my right hand are said to be above average. The other three are still growing. Near me, nice guys always finish first. I am able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, and I can counterfeit the new fifties. I am Tiger Woods. I play hide-and-seek. . . . . . .professionally. I never have to shave. I was once fired from Apple for thinking different, and the Pope is my bridge partner. I am smarter than the average bear. When I’m around, all numbers are prime. I never sit down. I sleep on one leg. I have never colored outside the lines, and I can distinguish eighteen shades of brown. I am not intended for viewers under the age of eighteen. I can see my house from here. A camera adds only seven pounds to me, but a painting adds fifteen. I travel alone in the carpool lane, but only on two wheels. I once gave it my all, but I stopped before it took everything I had. I prefer Proctor over Gamble, but I’m friends with both Simon and Schuster. I'm not on speaking terms with Johnson or Johnson. I am the walrus. Salads toss themselves at my command, and red lights stop for me. The candyman can't, but I can. I have no absolute value. I am caffeine free. Plaids and stripes match when I wear them, I am always on sale, and I am why the sky is blue. At the end of every rainbow, you'll find my award winning french toast recipe. I am my own worst enemy. Three of my grandparents wrote half of Shakespeare's plays while discovering the exact value of pumpkin pi. I have no crosses to bear, but I have three bones to pick. My axe is well-ground. I can get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie pop in less than seven licks. When I make quiche flambe, I do it right. My right turn signal blinks uncontrollably. So does my right eye. In fourteen hundred and ninety-two, Columbus used me as a reference on a job application. Bread must get my permission before rising. If I say so, six of one equals three fourths of a dozen of the other. My flesh is stain resistant. I remove Kansas from all my maps. (This one was true for a while after my cross-country road trip.) I rob from the rich and keep for myself. Sheep must count me to get to sleep. My middle name starts with every letter in the word "dorito." I study the paths of low-earth satellites, but I am not exactly a rocket scientist. I can count to twelve in my head, but only in metric. The Idaho Coast Guard has a bench warrant for my arrest. My packages absolutely, positively have to be there the next day. I have never missed a jumpshot. I make lifelike sculptures using nothing but hanging chad and band-aids. And finally, I cannot be reproduced without the express, written consent of Major League Baseball. (I never lie.) ---Nover

I didn't know how to drive stick either when I bought my 5-speed Wrangler. I needed to learn too. They very next day I had to start a new job 45 minutes away. The woman who taught me gave me the greatest advice. It worked perfectly and I've taught 5 or 6 people to drive stick using the same trick. The hardest part of learning to drive stick is knowing where the clutch catches. So sit in first gear with the clutch fully depressed. Don't touch the gas at all, but VERY slowly let up on the clutch. At a certain point it will begin to catch, and the car will probably move forward a little. Keep letting up the clutch slwoly and find out where it stalls. (I only stalled mine once while learning.) Try it a few times to build up the muscle memory of where the clutch catches. Don't let it stall, if you can help it. You keep it from stalling by just pressing the clutch back to the floor. You should be able to do this indefinitely, without touching the gas. What this is is "riding the clutch", which isn't a good thing. But if you only do it a few times, there's no harm. Then go out and drive! Pretty soon you'll be able to driving stick steering with your knees while talking on a cellphone and changing the radio and lighting a cigarette, all while you're looking for flags to see how the winds are. :) (That's the long version of "let up on the clutch, no gas, see where it catches.") Good luck! ---Michael