4th of july weekend was quite a blast. There were fireworks, gunfights and skydives a-plenty. I got beaten up by a lizard, saved by sheep and even got to watch my girlfriend wrestling around on the floor with another hottie. Oh yeah, and there was booze.

Heidi and i had done a sunset jump, and the DZ dinner was ready when we got down. Not wanting to miss the food, we threw down our gear, hopped on the queue for some scrumptious morsels and proceeded to stuff our faces. In the midst of our sustenance ingestion, the fireworks started. Now, many places have some nifty yet piddly little fireworks display that’s kinda pretty but not really anything wo get worked up over…. often the involve little tanks that blow up on the driveway and beer bottles to aim the projectiles. At The Ranch, however, we’re far to fond of explosions to settle for such quaint pyrotechic entertainment. No, we have 50/50 raffle and a DZ match for a fireworks budget and our enthusiasm for sparkling mortar blasts is quite satiated with the display that is put on. Lest we blow ourselves up (and we would), we actually hire a pyro company to come dazzle and bombard our senses with twinkling concussive bliss. The whole tows comes out to the DZ to witness the event and what i’m really trying to get across here is that once doesn’t miss the fireworks display for something as menial as packing, especially if you’re not getting paid for it. As such we frittered more could-be packing time away on the entrancing fireworks display. Immediately after the fireworks, the packing area was swiftly transformed in a boxing ring for the annual Ranch Fight Night where i received my ritual reptilian beating. Suffice to say that by the time all the brutality had settled i was far too tired and, more importantly, drunk to finish packing. And anyone who knows me knows that that’s pretty drunk. The parachute was stashed for the night and merriment ensued for the remainder of the eve. My plan was to pack it the following morning.

Well, morning arrived and i didn’t get around to packing, as work kept me occupied for whole day. In a generous attempt to help out, a friend of mine decided to do me a favor and pack for me. At the end fo the day i was informed of this, said thanks, stowed my rig and popped a beer, it had been a long day and i was tired. The coming week held dodgy weather and various distractions, so i didn’t get tp jump until the friday. I had a lovely jump, fun but uneventful, that is until i opened my parachute.

Now without going into so much detail as to (further) bore the whuffos in the audience, the skydivers among you may picture in your minds a silicone slider bumper stuck on the forward left line group, about 12″ from the bottom skin of the canopy. In short, it was a malfunction. I immediately started cursing myself for having been careless enough to miss such an obvious problem with the packjob and began trying to work out the problem.

As i’m sure you’ve gathered by this point, the problem wasn’t able to be worked out. The parachute was controllable, but barely so, and most certainly not healthily landable. I concluded that i must cutaway the main and pull the reser……. ummm… _I_ packed this reserve.. *gulp*… it’s only the SECOND reserve pack i’ve ever done…. *gulp*…. hope i did this right….

and i pulled my handles.

So, did it work? you’ll have to wait until next time to find out.