10,000 feet, bitches (long+camwhore) (973 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.35 on 22 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by crazyaardvark (View user info) at 2006-02-27 08:38:41 EST
This is not fiction, Ubers. I recommend it to anyone.
Well, of course I was bloody nervous. Who wouldn't be? But the point is that I wasn't scared. I was excited. It's not a bravery thing; lots of stuff scares me. Snakes. Catching the train at night. Scuba diving. Jellyfish. However, I can honestly say that letting my new boyfriend, Tom, drive my car on winding country roads in the rain made me more scared than jumping out of a perfectly good aeroplane strapped to a guy with a Scandinavian accent and a parachute.
It's the waiting that's the killer. We leave Tom's house with plenty of time and detailed instructions to make it to the drop zone, about fifteen minutes out of York. It's a tiny town about two hours east of the city of Perth, Western Australia. My '91 Suzuki battles doggedly up and over the Darling Escarpment, a line of hills which steps up from the coastal plain to the wheatbelt and eventual monotonous desert of the interior. The Suzuki slips over the hills and straight into roadworks and rainclouds which force us down to 60ks an hour on country roads normally limited at 110. My hands clench on the steering wheel as I try not to let Tom's gleeful singing piss me off. When he takes the wheel, saying cheerfully "Man, it's a while since I drove a manual", I look out of the window across roadworks and unseasonal rain and feel sick. After half an hour of tight lipped conversation I am relieved to be driving again.
The dark clouds part like something out of a midday movie on Jesus as we barrel into York. Brown fields dotted with sheep, gum trees and run through with dirt tracks surround the town. We shoot through and out, following an old train line along a barely bitumen road with crumbling edges. Looking up at the sky, I can't believe I will soon be up in it. It's so bright, and big.
Arriving at the drop zone, an aviation shed full of flies, we sign waivers and wait. And wait. By now I'm snapping at Tom. He's so good natured and hyperactive, being mean to Tom is like kicking a puppy. I feel like a right bitch, but can't help myself. We practice our falling positions on the floor and in slings hung from a metal frame. Left hand on door frame, right on floor of the plane. Head back, arms crossed on chest. Instructor pushes out. One tap, arms out, legs up. Freefall, thumbs up. Next tap, arms crossed, chute opens. Adjust leg straps for comfort. Landing, legs out straight in front. All done, all good, goddamn. Our jumpsuits resemble coloured clown outfits: one piece, bright blue and purple. Tom looks terrible in his, the fabric straining across his thighs. I laugh, briefly.
I'm not good at waiting. We take photos squinting into the glaring sunlight as the polite Indian couple in line before us spiral out of the sky and land gently in the paddock barely fifty metres from where they started. I'm jealous and quiet. When my instructor, a tall, handsome guy with a very slight Scandinavian accent (they love their extreme sports) says, "Alright Renée, let's go", I'm not scared anymore, I'm excited. From that moment, nothing shifts the grin on my face until I reach the ground, and I know this because he has a camera on me the whole time, for posterity, and to sell individual skydiving DVDs at a hundred bucks each.
Our plane is the tiniest plane I have ever seen. It fits five people at a squeeze: two instructors, two adrenalin seekers and one pilot wearing a parachute. The interior is not much bigger than the inside of my car, and that's a girly 1.3L sedan. I barely feel the plane lift off the ground but I'm watching intently out the back and side windows and see the ground drop away. It's half an hour spiralling upwards before we reach the drop height of 10,000 feet. We go high, then we go higher than that, battling upwards in our tiny plane. The Avon Valley stretches out below us and I can see why aviation is so popular here. It's nice from ground level, but it only becomes stunningly beautiful once you are above it. I can see tractor tracks in the fields, wavy lines like aboriginal art. The brown land is neatly divided into squares and rectangles dotted with green trees, passed over by shadows from clouds that we approach, then pass through on our journey upwards. I've never seen real snow so maybe I'm wrong, but the white fluffy clouds stretch out like snowfields to the dusty horizon. No, maybe more like foamy surf, waves bubbling across sand. Their shapes suggest movement, but they seem still.
The instructor turns the camera on me. "Any last words to the guy who got you into this, Renee?"
I laugh, turn to face Tom and say, "I love you Tom."
"I love you too Renee." It's funny, I will never tell, but in that plane, ready to jump out, it's not about him and me. It's a journey alone. He just happens to be there.
"We're going to open the door now, Renee," my instructor yells in my ear. "There's going to be a lot of wind and noise, but it's just that. Wind and noise. Don't be scared, it can't hurt you." Scared? The door opens and I can't wait to be outside. My teeth feel dry as the wind hits my smile. Tom goes first, as he's closest to the door. He looks uncomfortable, sitting in his tight jumpsuit on the instructors knees, trying to manoeuvre his feet onto the platform. Then they're out of sight. I don't see them falling. We shuffle to the door and I remember the instructions. Left hand on the door, right hand on the floor. I put my feet onto the metal platform on the leg of the plane and cross my arms. My instructor tilts my head back further, one hand holding the camera out. I don't jump. You don't jump in tandem. My instructor pushes off and we fall headfirst into the sky.
I scream with delight and joy as we tumble out of the plane into nothing and my body fills with adrenalin. Looking back, I know that those first few seconds of launching into nothing were my favourite. We somersault and straighten up and I put my arms out when instructed. It's so noisy and windy, but it doesn't seem like we are falling, the ground isn't moving towards us like it would if you fell from a building or a tree. The plastic goggles make it hard to see. My mouth is open in a silent cry of joy as we fall. I shoot a thumbs-up to the camera. Too soon, too soon, he taps me again and I cross my arms. The parachute opens with a noisy 'whoomph' and a series of cracks above us and the silence is startling. I laugh with joy.
"That was brilliant!"
We spiral down out of the sky for five minutes, down through the clouds. It's not windy at all, and my goggles rest around my neck. The air is so clear. My instructor gives me the handles of the parachute and helps me steer around in exhilarating circles. The ground still seems so far away. It inches closer. I'm not scared, I'm excited. Somehow it doesn't seem real. I can see Tom land before me and suddenly the ground is a lot closer. We lands amazingly softly, sliding gently across the loose brown grass before coming to a halt.
My instructor turn the camera on me and says. "Well Renee, how soon do you want to do it again?"
"Right now!" He unclips me and I give him a hug, before turning, arms open, to Tom and burying my head in his neck. We walk back awkwardly in our clumsy harnesses and suits, hand in hand, and the quiet Indian couple stands grinning and waving to us.
Happy Valentines Day, Tom. I love you.
Yes, I know, too long, needs more buttsecks and rape. And rabbits.
Here is a camwhore of me at the drop zone to make up for it.
User Reviews
Submitted by Dead_0hi0_Sky (user info) at 2006-03-12 09:42:47 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
No Comment
Submitted by crazyaardvark (user info) at 2006-02-28 08:30:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Nah, not Jewish Berty. Just an Aussie bred from English convicts.
Hey pen_name, my twin brother has Ulcerative Colitis. Damn defective convict genes...
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-02-27 17:01:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
NOW ON XBOX 360: THE ADVENTURES OF ZELDA PART TWO - GHOLA GOES DOWN UNDER
Submitted by pen_name (user info) at 2006-02-27 15:12:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Crohn's is a bitch, but U.C. is a whore.
and seriously, maybe remicade slows hair growth.
Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2006-02-27 11:38:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by crazyaardvark (user info) at 2006-02-27 09:06:08 (#)
Ranking: 0
No cancer. Just Crohn's disease (and I am serious on that one), but that has nothing to do with my hair.
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My brother has that, he is still decovering from having a portion of his innards sliced out.
My experience with skydiving in Australia was completely different than yours.
I was on the Gold Coast for a week, we scheduled a jump on monday, and every morning at 7 we got a call saying they weren't jumping because of the weather, then it would clear up. When Saturday, our last day, rolls around we get a call saying we are on and to be at the hotel lobby in half an hour, we had gone to sleep about an hour previously.
After we get there some scandanavian guy makes a joke, and does the international symbol of drinking, the thumb to the mouth and hand tilted up, I guess he could smell the booze coming off my girlfrined and I. It wasn't my first attempe to skydive I had tried a few times before in Boston, but the weather always turned to shit after the 2 hour class. Within 15 minutes of arriving at this place we were in a plane taxing out. Our instructions consisted of, "We are going to jump, then I will tap you and you arch, got it?" Anyway it fucking rocked, the guy yelled at me for trying to stear us, and I assumed all the jump places in Australia were run that laxly, guess I just lucked out.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2006-02-27 11:07:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Not a bad post but needs more vagina and stuff.
Submitted by Foolproof (user info) at 2006-02-27 10:59:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'll give you the old Army adage:
"I don't care how many skydives you have, until you've jumped from 800 feet in total darkness carrying 100 pounds of equipment with a 35 pound parachute, you are still a leg."
Myself? 42 military jumps, 3 from Chinook and 2 from Blackhawks.
That's jumping. Good going with the skydive, though.
Submitted by BranDo (user info) at 2006-02-27 10:19:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good stuff!!
Submitted by Amorphous (user info) at 2006-02-27 10:02:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Sweet.
Submitted by recall (user info) at 2006-02-27 09:49:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
inspiring. Would buy again A+++++++++++++++
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-02-27 09:35:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This got my adrenaline pumping and I want to skydive for the first time now.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-02-27 09:24:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I can't imagine doing THAT.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-02-27 09:21:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
If so I apologise for all the holocaust jokes.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-02-27 09:20:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
What is Crohn's disease?
Crohn's disease is an ongoing disorder that causes inflammation of the digestive tract, also referred to as the gastrointestinal (GI) tract. Crohn's disease can affect any area of the GI tract, from the mouth to the anus, but it most commonly affects the lower part of the small intestine, called the ileum. The swelling extends deep into the lining of the affected organ. The swelling can cause pain and can make the intestines empty frequently, resulting in diarrhea.
Crohn's disease is an inflammatory bowel disease, the general name for diseases that cause swelling in the intestines. Because the symptoms of Crohn's disease are similar to other intestinal disorders, such as irritable bowel syndrome and ulcerative colitis, it can be difficult to diagnose. Ulcerative colitis causes inflammation and ulcers in the top layer of the lining of the large intestine. In Crohn's disease, all layers of the intestine may be involved, and normal healthy bowel can be found between sections of diseased bowel.
Crohn's disease affects men and women equally and seems to run in some families. About 20 percent of people with Crohn's disease have a blood relative with some form of inflammatory bowel disease, most often a brother or sister and sometimes a parent or child. Crohn's disease can occur in people of all age groups, but it is more often diagnosed in people between the ages of 20 and 30. People of Jewish heritage have an increased risk of developing Crohn's disease, and African Americans are at decreased risk for developing Crohn's disease.
Crohn's disease may also be called ileitis or enteritis.
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So are you Jewish?
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-02-27 09:19:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by crazyaardvark (user info) at 2006-02-27 09:06:08 (#)
Ranking: 0
No cancer. Just Crohn's disease (and I am serious on that one), but that has nothing to do with my hair.
If you think it's spikey there, you should have seen it after I dived. It was like an 80's flat tom. I looked like Guile from Street Fighter.
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I'd have totally made you shout "Sonic Boom!" at the point of orgasm.
Submitted by WildcatMcGee (user info) at 2006-02-27 09:13:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
needs less boy hair
Submitted by crazyaardvark (user info) at 2006-02-27 09:07:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Flat top I mean. Darn typos!!!111!!111eleventyone!!
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2006-02-27 09:06:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I really need to do that.
Submitted by crazyaardvark (user info) at 2006-02-27 09:06:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No cancer. Just Crohn's disease (and I am serious on that one), but that has nothing to do with my hair.
If you think it's spikey there, you should have seen it after I dived. It was like an 80's flat tom. I looked like Guile from Street Fighter.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-02-27 09:00:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Sorry TTOM. That was insensitive of me.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-02-27 08:57:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2006-02-27 08:50:36 (#)
Ranking: 2
Ozz is teh pretty
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It's not really, it's like a poor mans Africa.
Renee has short hair. Did you have cancer or something?
Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2006-02-27 08:50:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Ozz is teh pretty