Dale Tupa on Jump Run

From: Dale Tupa  -- posted to rec.skydiving
Subject: on Jump Run in Eloy
Date: Tue, 13 Jan 1998 11:58:17 -0700

Who's to say when a skydive begins or when it ends?  Some of my 
most memorable moments take place before ever leaving the plane.  
There is nothing quite like the feeling as the plane turns onto Jump 
Run. 

A while back, a bunch of us made a road trip to Eloy from our 
small single Cessna drop zone.  Peter had never jumped anywhere 
else, and was eager to try out his crisp, new A license.  I teamed up 
with him and had a great time.  We also had some Jump Runs I'll 
always remember.

***

We planned a dive and had just enough time to grab our gear before 
a Skyvan load.  Peter sat in the plane marveling at the gaping hole 
in  the back.  "You could just fall out of this thing.  You could roll 
out!  You could hug somebody and tumble out!  You could.."

"OK, OK, Peter," I said, "let's plan a crazy exit.  How about 
this..you take grips here and I'll grip here and we'll shuffle like 
this to the edge..." 

Suddenly I notice the two German guys watching us with keen 
interest.  "Hey, this exit may take a little longer than usual.  Why 
don't you guys can go ahead of us?"

"Oh no no," he replies with a strong accent, "We desire to watch 
this stupid exit.  Hose us is OK!"

After a short look of confusion, Peter smiles widely, gives a 
thumbs-up,  and says, "You bet  - Jesus is OK!"

Now the German guy looks confused and asks me, "I 
mispronounce?   `hose us?'"

"No, it was perfect,"  I said.  Then I explained to Peter that the 
term "to Hose" has a very precise meaning in skydiving - it's when 
you take so long to get out of the plane, a group behind you has a 
horrible spot.  A pilot can hose an entire load.  I did not have time 
to continue on to explain the traditional Helen Keller Spotting 
Award for exceptional Hosers- it was Jump Run.

Peter turned to the Germans and said, "Hey, guys, we would never 
hose you.  Have a great jump!"  We had just enough time to 
exchange high-fives.

Green light.

***

Sometimes people have a much different attitude on the ride to 
altitude, though.  We were sitting in the Otter passing through 9 
grand, when everyone settles into their gear.  This woman next to 
Peter is contorting her arm around to check her reserve pin - I 
didn't even know that was physically possible.  Peter leans over, 
peeks under her flap, and says everything is OK.  I have never seen 
such a scalding glare as she gave him.  I quickly explain to Peter 
that you never touch someone's gear in the plane unless they ask 
you - this isn't home, no one knows him here.  He apologized to 
her.  By now though, she is making a show of frantically groping at 
the  back of her rig, checking and rechecking the pins.  She kneels 
down in the aisle and has two of her teammates check her rig, 
staring at Peter with a look that would turn Medusa to stone.  I  
finally lean over and say," hey look, he's sorry, he didn't know not 
to do that, he won't ever do that again, but he just looked under 
your flap with out lifting it, and didn't move anything."  Now the 
death-ray eyes are turned on ME.  I can't believe it: at 11 grand, 
she removes her rig to visually inspect the entire thing, glancing up 
at us to make sure we get the point.  All right already.  Suddenly, at 
the same time, Peter and I  find the situation hilarious and start 
laughing at her as she barely has the rig back on in time for Jump 
Run.  Peter and I stand in the aisle, put our arms over each other's 
shoulders, put on huge smiles, wave stupidly and say, in unison, 
"Have a nice day!"

Now that REALLY upset her.

Green light.

***

Jump Run.

Everyone stares at the green light, which will light any second now.  
Suddenly, from the direction of the four-way team at the door, the 
most incredible stench drenches the Otter.  This Swedish guy 
behind us says, "That is terrible.  Why didn't he wait a few 
seconds?"  

Peter says, " I guess he didn't have a choice."

The Swedish guy says, " I always wait for that until I am outside 
the plane.  It is more polite that way."

Peter stares at him in disbelief, " Are you saying that you can fart in 
freefall?  No one could be relaxed enough to do that!"

Mr. Swede replies, " Oh yes.  I know this happens.  Once I was 
sitflying and this smell filled my whole jumpsuit.  Then it could only 
leak out at my neck.  It was very terrible.  I  could smell that bad air 
for two thousand meters."

Green light.

***

We have just taken off and had reached 4,000 feet and the pilot 
calmly calls back to us.  "I'm going to have to go back and land.  
Please put your seatbelts on."  Those of us who have had this 
experience get quiet.  Peter asks what's going on.  I sit and let the 
person across the aisle explain.  Someone has been hurt very badly.  
We are landing so the helicopter ambulance can get in.  We land 
and start to taxi back to the hangar and the pilot calls back again.  
"Remain in your seats, it's clear for us to go up."  Peter starts 
talking excitedly about our jump.  My eyes meet those of the guy 
across the aisle.  His look confirms what I am thinking.  This was 
not a false alarm - the ambulance is simply no longer required.  I 
don't feel like jumping, what should I do?  

The plane is taxiing back to the runway, and I see vehicles heading 
out to a spot in the desert.  "Hey, brother," I think, "this jump is for 
you."  I'm sure it confused Peter when I suddenly turned to him 
and said, "Hey - let's skydive!"

***

We were climbing through 10 grand when the pilot called back to 
let us know that we would be flying in formation.  Off to the left, 
another Otter appeared.  It was so close, you could see everyone in 
the plane, you could see them wave, you could see them...sticking 
their tongues out at us!  Hey!  We reacted the way any true 
skydiver would.  "Moon them! Moon them!  Moon them!"  We 
started chanting.  And in the back, by the plexiglass door, Steve 
from Colorado slips off his rig, unzips his jumpsuit, slides it down, 
and presses his butt against the door.  We start cheering.  Steve is 
our hero.  The other guys resort to feeble gestures at us.  We feel 
so satisfied.  We proudly admire the cheek-prints on the door.

Then the pilot calls back.  We need to hold a little longer; we will 
continue to fly in formation until it's our turn.  And off to the left, 
an odd thing happens.  The emergency door of the other Otter 
cracks.  Someone slowly pushes it open.  And then - can you 
believe it - a naked butt protrudes!!!  Someone is hanging their 
bare ass way out in the wind at 14,000 feet!   On Jump Run!!  We 
are awed.  We admit defeat.  They are superior.  They are the Gods 
of Moon.  We are not even worthy to possess buttocks in their 
presence.  

Their emergency door slams shut barely ten seconds before you see 
people climbing out to exit the other Otter. As we watch, a good 20 
seconds after the last group exits, a lone freeflyer dives out of the 
plane.

As our plane turns onto Jump Run, Peter is saying, "I can't believe 
it!  They were on Jump Run.  Somebody had to take his jumpsuit 
off for that.  And his rig!  He must have got out two miles away."   
I look at Peter and grin, "You know, Peter, some things are worth 
getting hosed."

Green light.


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AirDale