No - I'm not gay!

Although it was a while ago (two years) I ran across this photo of my first and only skydiving jump. As you can see I wasn't exactly alone, but I was brave, because I didn't know the instructor personally and I think I offended him before the jump.

Vitaly convinced me to go. Well he just said let's go skydiving, and I, to show how brave I was said, OK! But not so deep inside I was hoping our plans would change and I would be free from the challenge to my bravado.

The location was Ras Al Khaima airport, if you can call a dirt strip and a tin shed an airport.

One of the skydivers had one of those white and black "Scary Mask"'s on, which was a little unsettling. It was going to cost me $200 dollars to maybe become one of those freaky skydiving accident statistics.

The first worry was the airplane. It looked more like it should have been in a museum or junk yard rather than being used for carrying so many good people, and it didn't help any knowing that it was one of those famous Russian models that lasts forever.

We all fit inside, sitting on our asses with those of us who were the paying customers being attached to the front of those paid customers. You never ever think about straps, buckles and snaps and how they work until you find yourself dangling at their mercy 10,000ft over the earth. It's funny how instead of asking "are these things going to work, or what is the chance of them failing", you just say, "hey these things look like they're new, must of set you back a bundle...", then you wait for the retort and hope it doesn't go like this"...oh, not really I've had them for years, they just look new, but with money I'm making on this last jump I can finally afford to buy good ones..".

On the way up (it didn't seem to take long enough) you start inspecting the other people with you and notice that their instructor's looks more professional and their equipment newer. You try to smile and put that look of, "I've done this sort of trivial extreme thing all my life, this is just one of those days".

After they see the blood leaving your face, the instructors try to make you feel better and have less fear so they strike up a screaming conversation. They try to explain to you something trivial but important, that you think, they should have done on the ground. But you can hear them, because your hearing ain't so good anyway and there is that open door with wind lapping at everbody's gear at 180mph and two 4 banger engines with no mufflers blaring just next to your head. I nod OK, hoping he wasn't asking me to pull the chute cord or something like that. Later I understood he said not to open you mouth too much because your face could blow off - look at my mouth and his mouth in the photo above". Fortunately Richardson's have a well exercised well attached mouth that is not so easily removed.

When we pushed out I had a flash vision of us smashing up against the tail wing, but it didn't happen. We were free falling for - not long enough - I was getting used to it and really liked the feeling, I even forgot his was attached to my back! That is how people die I found out later, they forget to pull the cord or pull it too late!

On the ground, I was wondering why they put rubber bands around my shoes, but was too proud to ask. I thought it was to prevent air from going up my issued diving suite pant legs which would have made it maybe hard to maneuver. They told us that the jolt of the chute opening would not be good for false teeth and it would be a good thing to keep you mouth shut!

At the moment of truth, there was this very paltry jolt and I remember thinking whooa, they've never taken a ride in my friends apartment elevator, then slam bam no thank you mam. Aparently the first jolt is the little chute that pulls out the big chute. It seemed like everything came to a screeching halt. The rubber bands were to keep your shoes from landing way before you did. I heard there is a field somewhere around the landing zone that has lots of half buried shoes in it.

At that point I really loved the guy who invented strong buckles, safety belts and snaps, and my instructor was definitely a professional nice guy worthy of my every praise - I asked him if he was a Russian - he was British.

It was a wonderful scene, the airport was wonderful and what was $200 dollars anyway - then you realize that you are still traveling faster than a rock and the ground is starting to come up to grab you. I was wondering how in the hell we were going to land, I was imagining my body being dragged under this guy with my head popping out just under his crotch. I wasn't going to let that happen. As we got closer to the ground I tried like hell to be taller than him.

The other people had already landed and many of them looked like it was not very comfortable as they were in little piles legs and arms everywhere with cutes and guy ropes cascading over them.

We were about 10 meters from the ground and then he pulled his arms down like a big eagle ready to land and I felt the chute resist landing and we floated like -a lighter rock. This was my moment of glory as I stretched out my legs, touched one twice and then felt his knees jam up my ass as he too was thinking about staying afoot. In spite of the initial ass kicking we both managed to landed in perfect tandem as the rest of the crew took the graceful landing in from their sprawled out positions on the turf.

The only thing that didn't happen was for the chute to fold itself up and pack itself in the bag. There were a few people who were looking for their shoes, I remember a lot of talk about the need for stronger rubber bands.