Uncreated Conscience

My A license stamp! Ordinarily it would be on my forehead, but I lucked out.

After two long years (with a 10 month hiatus in between), Bear and I have received our A licenses at last. It’s been a long journey, but completely and utterly worth it.

Skydivers are a curious breed. To call us adrenaline junkies would be over-simplification; of course, we are adrenaline junkies. Not many people would willingly throw themselves out of a plane two and a half miles above the earth. Over and over again. But the thrill of falling through the skies, of possibly getting one step closer to death—that fades within two or three jumps. Jumping is only really and truly scary the first time.

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Thanks to everyone who recommended books to me. I have not yet taken up everyone on their recommendations (I am totally running out and getting Catherynne Valente’s PALIMPSEST when I get the chance), although I did spend part of my birthday giftcard on two books to read on my road trip down to North Carolina. (Amazingly, I did not get carsick.)

North Carolina was the furthest south I had ever been in the United States (excluding Disneyworld, Florida, which in all honesty, is not part of The South) and boy was it enlightening. Bear and I took the I-95 from New Brunswick, New Jersey, all the way down through Philadelphia (which has the highest number of billboards on the highway), Wilmington, Baltimore, Washington D.C. (where we took an accidental detour through the Capitol that delayed us for an hour and a half), and the entire state of Virginia, which seems to be the longest state ever.

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Indoor skydiving can really take it out of a girl. Especially if she’s developed a previously unknown shoulder problem that has a propensity to dislocate in the middle of a skydive. I mean, what the fuck? This has happened to me twice now and it’s never happened before. I’ve never injured my shoulder in any capacity (I can’t say that about my knee…or my back…or my pelvic bone…) and all of a sudden it decides that it can’t take the pressure anymore and loses it. Body, you are on notice. Time to haul you to the gym for some strength training.

I have been remiss in blogging, mostly because in the past week I’ve driven a total of 18 hours down to North Carolina and back and spent 15 minutes in a wind tunnel using all of the small muscles in my body. It’s easy falling out of a plane. The hard part is maintaining absolute control of how you fly.

Fortunately, this time I have obtained some video of my airtime that I will foist upon the unsuspecting public. Luckily for you, I won’t put up the entire 15 minutes. I edited together a “greatest hits” compilation, if you will.

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Has it really been a week since I’ve updated last? Yikes.

As seems to be the tradition since I’ve reached “adulthood,” my natality seems to be a week-long celebration. Wednesday night I went over to Sofa’s apartment for an evening of Bones and wine coolers as we are wont to do, except she surprised me by taking me up to the roof of her apartment and wishing me a happy birthday as it turned midnight. We then proceeded to watch Bones until we passed out around 5:30am. She went to work, I stayed in her apartment and watched more Bones until I had to meet up with my friend Jess for lunch.

Russ joined us for Indian food at Tiffin Wallah on 29th and Lexington and then we enjoyed an absolutely gorgeous day walking around New York City. In the evening, hoards of people appeared at my door to go to the Astoria Beer Garden, where we had pitchers of a girly cocktail and the non-vegetarians indulged in some bratwurst. In my life I have been extraordinarily blessed with friends and I am grateful for each and every one of them.

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I had completely forgotten how mentally taxing skydiving can be. And I’m not talking about the possibilities of malfunctions or problems on a jump (which should be percolating at the back of the mind, of course), but just what concentration it takes. What focus. The complete and utter awareness of the body and how it feels, as well as how your body feels in relation to the fluid aerodynamics occurring around you.

The only comparison I can really make is yoga, which seems to be the antithesis of skydiving as a sport, yeah? But as someone who does both, there really is a clear connection. The only difference is, I suppose, that you are hurtling through the air at speeds in excess of 120mph (or more, depending on how big you are).

Bear and I gave Saturday, the Fourth of July, a skip at the DZ as his friend Splash claimed to be hosting a Whiffleball with PBR (gross) challenge. It never happened, so Bear and I spent the day watching The Twilight Zone marathon on SciFi SyFy. A good thing too, I suppose, as the DZ never got below a 200+ minimum jump restriction.

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Curses, the weather gods really do hate my guts. Bear and I went down to the DZ today with the hopes that we would be able to squeeze in at least three more jumps, but alas, the winds were gusting again. I managed to get one jump in, right as an A license restriction was placed. It was gusting at 20mph when Bear and I went up in the Skyvan and got stronger as we landed.

I understand now why inexperienced jumpers such as myself shouldn’t fly canopies when it’s gusting so strongly; I had the weirdest experience coming down to land. I was demoing the Pilot 188 again and right as I was making my final turn into my upwind leg, instead of floating down, the wind picked me up at least 5 to 10 feet before dropping me. Thankfully I was high enough for my stalled parachute to reinflate in time so that I might stand my landing safely, but it definitely made me nervous.

My skydive itself was great; I practiced changing my fallrate and some unstable maneuvers. Bear and I are thinking of going to wind tunnel camp to get our flying skills honed so that one day, we might be able to do this:

It’s like he’s dancing.

One of the billion reasons I love my Teddy Bear: He quotes the theme song from FIREFLY on Facebook when he’s jumped out of a plane.

Teddy Bear Burn the land and boil the sea, you can’t take the sky from me.
Bear’s Cousin Did you get a jump in after all?
No Taste WORST OPENING THEME EVER
Teddy Bear Yeah I got a jump in, and it was a great theme
No Taste Are you freakin kidding me? The theme was so bad, I think it’s the real reason the show was canceled! I’m pretty sure the ratings were low because when people would turn the show on, they’d watch the first bit think, “hey this might be pretty good” and then that theme would play, and suddenly the next thought is “oh jesus that’s bad, maybe gilmore girls is on abc family, i’ll watch that instead”
No Taste god aweful man.
Teddy Bear You are the worst kind of person

This past weekend was one of adrenaline rushes (whitewater rafting and skydiving) and the introductory excursion of Team Constant Vigilance: An Adventure Club.

When I was in junior high, my 7th grade algebra teacher Mr. Friedman formed what he called The Adventure Club (for which I drew a lot of cartoons and flyers and posterboards). It basically meant taking a bunch of 12-and-13-year-old kids on trips that often involved us shooting things at each other. The first trip every year was paintballing, which was generally followed by other experiences like rock-climbing, surfing, mountain biking, and skiing. The last trip every year was camping on a beach for two nights. I appreciated Mr. Friedman for many things (not the least of which was because he was the last teacher to make me understand maths), but he was the first person to awaken the adrenaline junkie within me.

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The weather gods relented just before sunset, so I was at least able to get my recurrency and a fun jump in before the last load. It was really lovely flying with my instructors again and it felt really good to get back in the air after a long break, especially once I got over my nerves.

Five more jumps before I get my A license! I’m going again on Friday (and probably Saturday); anyone want to join me?

P.S. Bex, Laticia and Nathan got married in October last year. o.O

After a 10 month hiatus and a June so soggy it made it impossible to jump, I am back at the dropzone. The skies are blue, the sun is shining, there is nary a cloud in the sky…

…and the winds are gusting over 18mph. Which means I cannot skydive.

I must have angered the weather gods in a past life. There is no other explanation for this. They hate me.

Grrrr.

I’ve mentioned before that med school was exactly like high school except with more dead bodies. Prom was oodles of fun except for the enormous pain in my feet at the end of the night from standing and dancing around in 3 inch heels. Let me tell you: taking off my heels when we finally made it home? Orgasmic.

Bear and I doing our best Prohibition look. All Bear needs is a gun.

The closest to a full length photograph of my dress. What you can’t see: the train, my gold shoes, and my gold toenails. Bear wanted to wear a vest with his outfit, but we couldn’t find one in time. We totally forgot about the suspenders. :(

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