In the Summer of 2010, I found a new passion that I hope will last a lifetime. After turning down an opportunity to jump out of a plane a decade before, I had regretted it ever since, yet did nothing about it. Then, last June I overheard my friend Jerry talking to another patron at Greene's Ale House about a skydiving expedition. He said that they had someone drop out of their group and that they were seeking another. As if someone had taken over my 'inner voice of reason' I heard my self blurt out:
"I'll do it!"
Jerry looked behind the bar at me and asked if I was sure. He said he was going to place a phone call to make sure none of the others had found a replacement yet. I said go ahead, I'm in. Low and behold I got the spot. After many weeks of patient anticipation due to a rain out of our first appointment, we traveled to Ovid Airport and jumped. By the time my toes reached the ground I knew I was hooked.
Upon watching the video of my jump with my Father, he told me he wanted to go too. I said that's great Dad, but I don't think you fit the profile, so to speak. He was over the required weight limit. I'm glad to say that lit a fire under him, and with extreme determination he lost over 70 pounds!
Earlier this Spring I received an e-mail from my Step-Mother, Donna, about a hundred dollar discount from something called Groupon, if you jumped at the Whitford Airport in Weedsport, NY. I was very skeptical at first because I'd never heard of a company called Skydive CNY which was run out Whitford. My thought was why hadn't we heard of this place last year when we traveled more than twice the distance to Ovid, NY. However, much to my delight, I found out that Skydive CNY was a brand new company that started this year, and that was why none of us had ever heard of them before.
In April, I booked us an appointment for Saturday, May 14th. And after twelve straight days without a drop of rain, we woke up to cloudy skies and the threat of precipitation. Holding onto hope that we'd have a window to jump, we drove the short distance to Weedsport. We had to watch a couple of instructional videos as we signed our lives away, releasing Skydive CNY of any liability, in the event of our untimely demise. After brief ground training that lasted about ten minutes they told us to go into town and grab some coffee or breakfast because the conditions were not good for jumping.
We found a diner and had a nice breakfast. We killed about an hour and headed back to the airport with hopes that Mother Nature would co-operate with us. However, that heartless wench was being difficult. One of the instructors told us we were free to sit and watch TV or just hang out. Time ticked by and boredom was setting in. As my Dad and I chatted about anything that would take our minds off of the weather, I noticed that Donna had separated herself from the conversation and was reading a book on her phone. Figuring I could lighten the mood a bit I decided to have a little fun at her expense.
"Ya know Dad, if I had any idea we were going to be delayed this long, I would have scheduled that appointments for our tattoos first and then came to the airport."
It took a couple of seconds, but Donna finally realized what I had just said and immediately protested. We all had a good laugh about it. However, shortly after my little joke played out, the instructor informed us that the radar wasn't looking too good and we most likely weren't jumping that day.
We piled back into the car and took the somber drive back home. I remember thinking out loud that it had better fucking rain tomorrow too. We had just come off the better part of two weeks of sunshine and I'd be damned if "our Saturday" was going to be the only bad day during that stretch. As it turned out it rained the next day and several more days following that.
When we got home I immediately went to the website and booked another jump for the following Sunday at 12:30pm. As the week wore on the weather looked sketchy for the afternoon of our jump so I called the airport and reluctantly moved our appointment up 4 hours earlier. I would be playing in a captain and crew golf tournament for Thirsty's Tavern on Saturday and the idea of being up that early the next day didn't sound too enticing. I've played in that tournament every year that they've hosted it. To put it bluntly, it has always turned into a huge drunk fest.
Knowing that my Dad had worked so hard to be able to jump I decided to stay sober on Saturday so we could jump sooner rather that later. I realize that doesn't exactly make me a champion of the people, but our mission had to be completed. The schedule at the airport was filling up fast. If we didn't get our flight in soon who knew when we would get to go.
Thankfully, Mother Nature was in a better mood on Sunday. I'm only left to assume that she had her "monthly visitor" the previous week and was on the rag that day. Luckily, Mother Nature's "Aunt Flo" was gone for the time being and the skies were clear.
We each grabbed a jump suit and began getting prepared. As my instructor Jeff was tightening my harness he wryly asked:
"Is your 'sofa' in the center of your living room, if you catch my drift?"
I knew exactly what he was referring to. Let's just say that if you're a guy, and you're going to be traveling at 120 mph, and then be suddenly slowed to about 14 mph in a matter of seconds, you're going to want to make sure your "junk" is free from the restraints of the harness wrapped around your legs when the parachute opens. I jokingly responded that my 'nugget pouch' was free of any danger. With the harness and suit in place, we were off to the runway with inspired excitement to board the aircraft.
Although it was a small plane, probably the same size as the ones I had jumped from last year, this flight was a million times better. For starters, the engine was much stronger so we reached our desired elevation in no time. But the quicker climb wasn't the only part I liked better about jumping at Weedsport. Shortly after takeoff one of the instructors pointed out the Carrier Dome in Syracuse, NY off in the distance. Next he pointed out the cooling tower at Nine Mile Point Nuclear Plant in our home town of Oswego. I told him that's where we were from and we were very familiar with those surroundings. He asked my about another land mark in the distance and I explained to him that it was the Steam Station next to the harbor on Lake Ontario. Although the buildings were too small to identify individually, I could actually see the dense cluster of houses and buildings where Greene's is located. I thought that was really cool.
It was around this time that we got linked up to the instructors. Before I knew it the door was open and that familiar sound and smell could be detected, as the icy, cold rush of wind was in the cabin of the plane. It was at that point that there was no turning back. Not that I'd want to back out, but this is the breaking point. There's just something that isn't natural about sticking your foot out of a moving plane two miles above Earth. But the reward is worth more than words can say.
Dad and Mike left first, and Jeff and I were right behind them. That rush during the free fall was the greatest feeling in the World. I'm sure that never gets old. After about 25 seconds or so, the chute opened and we got the feeling of being propelled back upwards. The fun didn't end there though. Jeff made a couple of turns and handled the toggles over to me. He told me to turn the chute until I could locate the airport. I was pleased with myself that I found it quite rapidly. Last year in Ovid, the instructor asked me to do the same thing and I could find the runway to save my life. Fortunately, I wasn't responsible for finding the landing zone or I might still be out in a field somewhere.
During our return to the ground on the canopy ride, we did a number of spins and such. That's probably the closest you get to feeling like you're on a roller coaster. That part was an absolute blast as well. Then it was time to come in for the landing. This is the part where injuries could happen if you don't follow instructions. I'm happy to report that both of us made picture perfect landings as we slid in on our asses. No broken bones, no twisted ankles, and most importantly, no bruised "COIN PURSES"!
The best part of the experience was seeing the huge smile on my Dad's face when he landed behind me. It made all of that blood and sweat that he put himself through to be able to do something with his son that made this jump so much more special. The hug we shared in the middle of that grassy field will be with me for a lifetime. I'm so proud of him for his dedication to making that day possible. We've already purchased a second jump for later on this Summer. It's just a matter of picking out a date to go again. All I can say is that I can't wait to be stepping out of that plane again in the very near future. It will be another dream come true.
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