Today is a Birthday, They're Smoking Cigars
I just returned from a birthday party for my friend, Mike Irvin. He turned 50 on Thursday. In honor of that, he decided to make 50 skydives in one day.
FIFTY.
That's so awesome, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it.
I don't know if non-skydivers understand just what an enormous and expensive undertaking this was. There was this tiny Cessna that flew up and down, up and down, up and down all day, only stopping for periodic fueling. There were two pilots, who took turns flying every couple hours, taking the same boring spiral up to 2,200 feet, then back down. There were packers, who had to do their job accuarately and FAST. There were volunteers from my home dropzone, who assisted the media, made videos of the jumps and provided friendly faces in the plane. And finally, there was this man -- fresh into his 50th year of life -- who loved skydiving so much, it was all he wanted to do on his special day.
What an excellent birthday.
I wasn't able to see Mike jump. I was at work all day, feeling the worst kind of ache -- the kind where I look over the top of my cubicle, peer out the window and see a bright, blue sky and cartoon clouds worthy of The Simpsons. And then I realize almost everyone I know is out skydiving, and I am overcome with a whole host of emotions. Depressed, enraged, indignant. Maybe a little weepy.
However, as soon as I was off the clock (9 p.m.) I sped down the 40 miles to Mike's house, where he and his wife were throwing a big bash for friends, family and skydivers, who are a little bit of both.
I somehow managed to find the place, located down a labyrinth of wild country roads and situated in a thick tangle of trees. We spent hours drinking, eating and setting off a multitude of fireworks.
When I left, the party showed no sign of stopping. It might very well go for days. In fact, that's likely.
I have to work early this morning, and I'll have to snort coffee grounds for fuel. But it was worth it, because I got to personally congratulate my buddy Mike -- a guy cooler than most people half his age.
Happy birthday, you crazy jumper.
(Also a big kiss goes to anyone who got the Sugarcubes reference in the title.)
FIFTY.
That's so awesome, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it.
I don't know if non-skydivers understand just what an enormous and expensive undertaking this was. There was this tiny Cessna that flew up and down, up and down, up and down all day, only stopping for periodic fueling. There were two pilots, who took turns flying every couple hours, taking the same boring spiral up to 2,200 feet, then back down. There were packers, who had to do their job accuarately and FAST. There were volunteers from my home dropzone, who assisted the media, made videos of the jumps and provided friendly faces in the plane. And finally, there was this man -- fresh into his 50th year of life -- who loved skydiving so much, it was all he wanted to do on his special day.
What an excellent birthday.
I wasn't able to see Mike jump. I was at work all day, feeling the worst kind of ache -- the kind where I look over the top of my cubicle, peer out the window and see a bright, blue sky and cartoon clouds worthy of The Simpsons. And then I realize almost everyone I know is out skydiving, and I am overcome with a whole host of emotions. Depressed, enraged, indignant. Maybe a little weepy.
However, as soon as I was off the clock (9 p.m.) I sped down the 40 miles to Mike's house, where he and his wife were throwing a big bash for friends, family and skydivers, who are a little bit of both.
I somehow managed to find the place, located down a labyrinth of wild country roads and situated in a thick tangle of trees. We spent hours drinking, eating and setting off a multitude of fireworks.
When I left, the party showed no sign of stopping. It might very well go for days. In fact, that's likely.
I have to work early this morning, and I'll have to snort coffee grounds for fuel. But it was worth it, because I got to personally congratulate my buddy Mike -- a guy cooler than most people half his age.
Happy birthday, you crazy jumper.
(Also a big kiss goes to anyone who got the Sugarcubes reference in the title.)
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Friday, June 17, 2005 at 1:03 AM.
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