Tales from WannaBea Farm

I heard the front door slam and for the umpteenth time asked myself, "what is so darn hard about NOT slamming a door?'. Then I heard Mr. Macho yelling, "Where are you?” "In here", I replied as I continued kneading my bread dough. That man could be so aggravating at times. Come to think of it, he could be so aggravating MOST of the time. Oh well, as my mom said, I made my bed and now I had to lie in it. But Lord it was hard at times.

He came thundering into the kitchen and popping open a beer asked, "How'd ya like to learn to sky dive?" "I'd love it" I replied. "It's always been a dream of mine, but how?"

"Well, on my way home today, I stopped to get a beer at that little Stop-and-Steal across from the airport and there was a sign in the window advertising lessons. We could go down this week end and check it out if you want to. I know I'm gonna do it but I wasn't sure if you'd have the nerve."

"Oh yeah, well I can do anything you can do and probably do it better! But what kind of equipment and gear will we need, it’s probably pretty expensive?"

Taking a swig of his beer he muttered, "How would I know? I just read the sign and got the phone number, I guess we can find out Saturday when we go over there."

Saturday morning this late sleeper was up at dawn, dressed and raring to go, more excited than I'd ever been in years. This really was something I had often dreamed of but always figured that was all it was, just a dream. But maybe it COULD become a reality.

The day finally came for our training and as we arrived at the school across from the airport, there were about fifteen other people already there, all of them as excited as I was. There were some platforms about three feet off the ground and some frames that looked like something for a child's swing set only taller. We soon found out what these were for. We jumped from the platform and as soon as our feet hit the ground we were to tuck and roll. The swing looking frames were to hang us in. Literally! Harnessed up and hanging like 'possums, we were to hook our thumbs through the "D" rings and when the jumpmaster yelled, we pretended that our main parachute had failed and we pulled the "D" rings which cut away from our frame and we fell, tucking and rolling as we hit the ground. Now if we were in the air and we had to cut away it would be from our main parachute and then we would have to use our reserve. Pulling the "D" rings worked great for everybody but me. I could never get but one to unfasten so I was just left hanging lopsided while everybody else was tucking and rolling all over the ground like a bunch of drunken chickens.

"No problem" my jumpmaster explained, as I would have so much adrenaline pumping through me that I should not have a problem.

“I’ll CHEW the darn thing off if I have to,” I replied boastfully.

Mr. Macho snorted, "Huh, she ain't gonna jump anyway; dunno why she's even here."

TO BE CONTINUED…. Be sure to read Part II of First Jump in next week’s Buffalo Press!