Jessica

Uh, like never? It's a hobby, not a 401(k). I think there are very few people who even break even in this sport. The good news is that once you have all your gear (for now) it'll feel less like your balls are in a vise. Honestly, it's always going to be expensive. I think skydiving habits expand to to suck up all the money you can possibly spare. The way a gas expands to fill all the volume in a space. Don't worry though. You'll find a way; we all do, or we give up the sport. I'm about to move from my phat downtown loft into a generic tiny apartment so I can jump more. Skydiving is for cool people only

Sunshine mugged down with another chick! No wait, that was EVERY night, not just Wednesday. Hehe Rob, this is true. Skydiving is for cool people only

Uh, try like 95 in the day to 50 at night. It's not natural, I tell you. God is obviously punishing midwesterners for something. But really, what is a snooze button for if not to press? My week: 1 lost Z1 and dytter, 1 found (and repaired) Z1 and dytter:24:a billion Thanks for fixing my helmet Eric! And to all you dz.commers: Meeting y'all was the shiznit. The impressions I got online were waaaaay off in a few cases. Ah, the exquisite awkwardness of meeting Internet friends. Skydiving is for cool people only

It's a signoff. It means "bye."

WFFC proposal on the chopper early in the week, and a wedding out of the CASA on Friday! They won't have Internet access for a while, I hear, but congrats to those crazy kids anyway! Skydiving is for cool people only

Heh, thanks you guys. Writing about skydiving makes me feel positively inarticulate. I appreciate the comments. If work is slow again tonight then I'll try to write up some more. I don't want to forget a single moment of the convention, but I've already lost so much. I guess this is why freeflyers wear cameras all the time. Skydiving is for cool people only

You don't even sound like you like her. Why are you in a relationship with someone whose behavior you find embarassing? Skydiving is for cool people only

Well, I'm back, and I'm at work, and my 4.5 days in Rantoul are already feeling distant and dreamlike. I left the WFFC at 6 a.m. this morning, got into San Antonio at 2:30, went home and made sure the birds were alive and changed clothes, and headed to work. It was an incredible time, and WFFC has a repeat customer in me. There was something for everyone there, at any level, any discipline, any plane preference, anything anything anything. Anyhow, I'm going to try to make myself write up some of the stuff I did, just so I don't forget it. Here's what I did yesterday morning...the quotes and stuff aren't accurate; it's just what I remember. So I'm a whuffo. So what? It wasn't much later than 6 a.m., and the sunrise, a virtual stranger to me, was illuminating something I found incredibly odd. There were more than a dozen skydivers blinking sleepily, standing in a wet field, dressed in garish freefly suits, clutching helmets and looking horribly out of place. But that wasn't the odd part. What I was baffled by that morning was the chipper horde of sweatshirted people who were happily stretching out massive wads of nylon and manhandling giant wicker baskets and just generally behaving weirdly. It was the beginning of my last day at the World Freefall Convention, and Eric and I were starting off the festivities by jumping from a hot-air balloon. My God, I thought, watching what I saw as an inordinate amount of work as they filled the balloons first with cold air from a big fan, then with hot from a flame. How and why does someone get into this? It looks like so much trouble, and it's got to be expensive as hell, and.... Then I stopped. And smiled. I am, I had just realized, a balloon whuffo. Eric suddenly and unexpectedly started helping the crew inflate the balloons. He's been on balloon crews before, he told me, so I filmed him with his camera helmet and finally the massive thing started to lift off the ground. We were on the second hop, so we hung onto the basket for ballast as the two jumpers going first got settled in, then it lifted, and drifted, and was over the trees and gone. We hopped into the back seat of the chase truck and followed our balloon down the roads of Rantoul with the crew. They were very chatty, and Eric promised them a video of our jump and got an address. After a while, we saw canopies -- one of the jumpers from our balloon had a BASE rig, and it popped open in an instant. Eric and I winced. A few minutes later, the balloon touched down in a field, and Eric and I ran from the truck and climbed on board as fast as we could and it lifted off again. The pilot was a very nice woman named Leslie. She was making conversation, but I am, believe it or not, terrified of not-very-high heights, so I doubt I was very interesting. When we reached a couple of thousand feet, I relaxed a little, and asked her if she'd ever dropped jumpers before. Nope, she told us. In 30 years of ballooning, she'd always refused. "It's terrible stress on the balloon," she said, "and I'm the one with no parachute." After a few minutes, Eric and I climbed up opposite sides of the basket and perched there, waiting for the balloon to climb high enough to jump. The absolute quiet, the view, the very situation were mind-blowing. I was trembling so badly I vaguely worried about shaking myself right off the basket. At about 6K, Leslie put the balloon in a sharp descent, to mitigate the effect of the sudden loss of 300 pounds from the basket. "Anytime you're ready," Leslie said. I gave her a sick look, gave the most pathetic count I've ever given, and leaped. And fell. And screamed. And heard myself screaming. In freefall. Then all of a sudden I felt the wind pressing against my limbs and I was back in control and I tracked for a couple of seconds and dumped. Yahoo! I had told Eric I was going to follow him down, but he can fly his canopy, and I, well, I can set myself down safely. I saw him put his Cobalt 150 down in a tiny front yard amidst the corn fields and bean fields, and I knew I'd be eating shingles or telephone pole if I tried that. So I landed in the middle of a sopping-wet bean field, picked my way out, and met Eric, both of us grinning happily. "You look wet," he said. I smacked him. So there we were, stranded in the middle of God-knows-where, in full gear, and my new Firefly pants were wet, dirty and cold. Eric saw another balloon about a mile away, and we started walking toward it, hoping to hitch a ride with another chase car. But I was slow as hell with my wet pants and heavy gear. (Plus I'm lazy.) Then a car stopped, and an elderly couple leaned out. "Do you need a ride?" Do we! We stuck the gear in the trunk, and started directing these poor random people to chase the balloon. A few miles down the road, we passed another chase truck and made the couple stop. "Hurry!" the crew was yelling, so we yanked our gear out of the trunk, yelled our thanks over our shoulders, and jumped into the back of the truck as it was pulling away. We chased the balloon into someone's backyard, and Eric and I took off running to reach the balloon as it touched down. We grabbed the basket and held it down. "Good job!" the pilot said, and I puffed up like I'd just invented silly putty. The balloon deflated enough to fall to the ground, and Eric and I took charge of the left side. Our job mostly consisted of throwing our bodies against the reams of nylon to keep them from rolling into a tree or something. Packing up a balloon is a lot like packing a parachute, except bigger. And heavier. It took six of us to squeeze the air out of it, then to work as a sort of chain gang folding it into a huge bag. Again, as we wrestled with all that heavy fabric, my balloon whuffo-ness manifested itself, but I beat it back. It wasn't hard to tamp down; I was having one hell of a good time. At that point, we had a slight problem. There were four members of the chase crew, six skydivers, six unpacked and messy skydiving rigs, one huge bag o' balloon, and a 5-person wicker basket all needing transport. And one truck. The balloon, basket, and crew got the good spots, and instead of any of us skydivers riding inside the truck, we opted to use the space for our gear. That meant we were riding back to Rantoul in the back of the truck -- two sitting against the cab and four inside the basket. I took a look at the way that basket was strapped on and was suddenly inclined to climb in the cab with the rigs, but I didn't want to look like a wuss. So I climbed into a giant wicker basket for the second time that morning, and held on. Speeding along those country roads standing in that basket was fun. We waved to bewildered children playing in their yards. We stopped and asked a bemused jogger for directions. The wind felt great on our faces and we stood in the basket and drank up the morning. Then we got on the highway, and if the freezing wind didn't drive me to hunch down in the basket, sheer terror did. But I snuggled up to Eric and warmed up and almost fell asleep. Four hours after we woke up and a 50-mile round trip later, we were back at the WFFC. We waved at the balloon crew as they drove off, and I still didn't get why they did what they did. That ballooning stuff, it was fun once, but I just don't see making a lifestyle out of it. But I shrugged and forgot it, because there were planes that needed leaping from that called for my attention. Skydiving is for cool people only

CRAP!!!! I wanted to drink with the monkey. Oh well. I'll quaff a shot of tequila in your honor, and catch you the next time around. Skydiving is for cool people only

I'd make fun of you, but no one called me either. Skydiving is for cool people only

Michele, I've jumped a Sabre2 at a loading probably similar to what you'd try. I loved the landings, but they were very fast, and very long, and very swoopy. I don't think that's what you want right now. I think if you stick with the Spectre, you'll eventually get the timing down. I know it's hell, it was hell for me too, but you will get it. Skydiving is for cool people only

I've just recently started jumping with people who have less experience than me (mostly because before there wasn't anyone with less experience than me). It's really gotten me thinking about safety issues in a way I haven't before, because most of my jumps have been with people of my experience level, or people with a lot more experience than me. I'm not used to being the one who supposedly knows what she's doing. I'd like some tips on staying safe when working with low-timers. For example, I was jumping with a low-time jumper who was a LOT bigger than me. On one jump, he wanted to practice swooping, so I said okie dokie, and I left first and watched him do his thing. Oh my GOD he hurtled at me at a million miles an hour. I got out of his way, then on the ground we talked about how to slow down before reaching the formation. Before we jumped, I had made a point of telling him he'd better not smack into me, but I was mostly kidding because I assumed he had the skill, at around 40 jumps, to control a swoop. That was stupid, because I remember now that *I* certainly couldn't do a nice swoop at 40 jumps. Is that the key? To assume someone doesn't know what they're doing until you'e jumped with him and he proves otherwise? Another example. On the first jump I did with him, I set breakoff at 4.5K. He suggested 4K. I said no, it's 4.5K. We jumped, he practiced forward movement and docking on me, then at 4.5, as I was about to wave off, he zoomed at me and grabbed my arm. Pissed off, I shook him off and turned and tracked. On the ground, he told me he'd forgotten I wanted to break off at 4.5. This kind of spooked me, cause this guy is obviously a lot stronger than me. What if he'd held on? I can't think of a reason why he would, but I guess people can freak out and do crazy things. What do you do in a situation like that? Just some ramblings from someone who wants to jump with newbies, but keep herself safe doing it. Skydiving is for cool people only

Yep. After a year and a half of PLFing, I now stand them all up since Phree videoed a few. No one could convince me I wasn't completing my flare, but the video proved I was only getting the toggles about halfway down. Skydiving is for cool people only

*choking on dr pepper* It's funny 'cause it's true. Skydiving is for cool people only

Oh boy! I want to play! *looking around, unable to find a horse* *beating wildblue instead* [thump] [smack] girlish crying [whap] Skydiving is for cool people only

Criminy. I can never, ever, ever, ever, ever visit Skydive Chicago. Skydiving is for cool people only

Damn it, why can't I get the url coding right? Anyway, urban legend. www.snopes.com/crime/safety/biscuit.htm Skydiving is for cool people only

If I make it on the plane with my rig and my credit card then I'm good. Everything else is just details. Oh, except for deodorant. Skydiving is for cool people only

I agree. I half-regret not doing the military thing myself. My directionless little brother went in at 21, and now he's a confident 25-year-old with career prospects out the wazoo and a basically free college education coming to him. The summers I spent trudging from the car to the office, the office to the car, he was white-water rafting in Iceland. Yeah, overall it was no basket of peaches for him, but I think it's a great path for some people. I think therein lies the inherent torture. So many possibilities, the world is your oyster, but WHAT IF YOU PICK THE WRONG OYSTER AIEEEEEEEEE Skydiving is for cool people only

Really? *I* think the early 20s are hell on Earth. At almost 26, I'm only just emerging from a sea of constant panic, wondering with every move I make if I'm FUCKING EVERYTHING UP FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE AIEEEEEEEEEEE Twenty-three is when you set the flavor of your life. A career, house and family? Choose wisely, because if you pick that, it lasts a long time. Or footloose and fancy free for a bit more? And when to stop, if that's what you choose? What about money? What about a 401(k)? Are you jealous of your married friends? Or do you like being single? Do you want to make money, or do you want to have fun? Can you do both? Sometimes it seems impossible. Yep, I sympathize with wceviper. Keep jumping, pal, cause some days, leaping from a perfectly good airplane is the only thing that's going to make any sense at all. Skydiving is for cool people only

Shut up, you whiny butts. I have 63 hours before I'm even in Indy. Skydiving is for cool people only

Hey hey, sometimes a jumper and her canopy grow apart. Maybe they have different needs. Like, I need to jump a sweet l'il ZP. Anyway, my trusty PD 170 will always have a place in my house. Mainly because I'll never be able to sell it. Skydiving is for cool people only

Did it work? Skydiving is for cool people only

Interesting. After my cutaway, I decided I would use an RSL as long as I was jumping non-ellipticals at light loadings. Which may be forever. I know from experience that the reserve handle can be really hard to find when the shit hits the fan. Just today at the dropzone a guy was talking about his cutaway the day before, where, under a spinning main, he put his hand on the cutaway pad immediately, but couldn't find the reserve handle for several long moments. In any case, I agree with Bill. Skydiving is for cool people only

One big problem with going both ways, I discover as I mull my luggage situation for travel to WFFC, is that we have twice as much crap. RW jumpsuit. Full-face helmet. Weight belt. FF pants. Open-face helmet. How the hell am I getting all this in a gear bag? Skydiving is for cool people only