Birds Fly, you aren't
ocon...@slr.orl.lmco.com
I was fairly in the clear from the get go. Most folks headed in another
direction and the few around me were well clear. We had broken fairly
high for reasons which time has erased and I took the opportunity to
track extra long. I looked down, as I am want to do, to see exactly
where I am tracking to and I saw a bird below me and a tad ahead of
me. It seemed to be following the small ditch with a fair amount of
water in it that happens by Pheonix.
I began following the same ditch and therefor the bird as well.
There was a sort of odd visual here. Me and the bird just out for a
little flight on the warm breezes of Florida, lazyily following a
small stream. He was gliding, no flapping, and I was too. I was
overtaking him obviously but I could still look between my feet
and see him, now following me. I covered quite a distance, me
and my bird buddy, just following that little body of water,
the breezes, and the sun, and the grass waiving up at both of us.
I could see the folks packing on the ground. Could they seem us?
Could they see me and my bird buddy out for a little afternoon
cruise? If I did a barrel roll I wonder if the bird would follow
suit. Could he?
It was a nice little moment. Unfortunately, it was more
than a moment. Somewhere in the midst of this little wandering
and cross species conciousness, that little voice in the back of
my head, the one that always kind of cares for you when you most
need it, the one that's all head and no heart, the one that has
a both good yet irritating way of cutting through the fluff and
getting to the heart of things, that voice came forth with a
vengance and said;
"Hey asshole, the birds flying... YOUR NOT! Open the damn chute."
Oh, yeah, I forgot. But I sure felt like I was, for a moment
anyway. And it's true, skydivers DO know why the birds sing. But
on this day, I bet I taught one to laugh too. Why else would he
have come back to circle over me while I packed, other than to rub
it in?
Kevin O'Connell
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rita
tracks going in a straight line. For some reason, I simply couldn't control
them and it was getting downright embarrassing as I would track away in a big
wide circle. :(
I was working on this problem ... and making substantial progress ... right
before my injury.
But ... I always had this fear ... and this nightmare ... could you just
imagine ...
You track away pretty high ... to give yourself loads of time. You turn 180
degrees ... because you are merely doing a two-way coached dive ... and you
start into the meanest, straightest track you've ever had. Your coach is
gonna watch ... so he can critique your technique.
Wow! Look at this shit!
You look below you ... the ground is so far away ... you are checking out
details ... a stream ... a patch of brown ... the pea gravel pit ... the
runways ... it all looks so kewl ... and it's moving so fast ... like a
motion picture. More importantly, it's moving in the direction that *you*
want it to move. A small adjustment here ... and I'm heading toward the peas
... turn around now ... how about we go this way!
You are totally engrossed in this effort ... you have finally dialed in your
tracks ... you can control them ... you can alter direction mid-track, you
can slow down or speed up. You've just come one step closer to becoming a
real skydiver. Yeah!
You are feeling so good ... so happy ... so fulfilled ... that you fail to
hear those little beeps coming from that box on your helmet ... nor do you
happen to notice that ground details are getting kinda big.
You feel this little hiss. Not really a hiss ... just sort of a sound ... a
feeling. Oops! Shit! Congratulations! You've just become the latest
Cypres Save. In mid-track your reserve has popped open. Oh, boy. :(
Oh, dear lord ... thank God this scenario was never more than a nightmare to
me. It's one of those nightmares that keeps me "heads up" and altitude aware
... *hopefully* on every skydive.
Blue ones!
--rita
rita
Blue ones!
--rita
ellen_...@hotmail.com
ocon...@slr.orl.lmco.com wrote:
>Why else would he
> have come back to circle over me while I packed, other than to rub
> it in?
To invite you to join him again? :)