The story starts by saying that the plane was designed for midgets. Being normal people, we hard a hard time to fit in, and even harder to get out for the jump. But there I am, with both fit on the cover of the right wheel of the plane. Mix of emotions, excited and frightened.
Off we go : the bastard instructor pushes us in the sky. As soon as we're falling, the fear is gone, the excitement is uncredible. Adrenaline flows through the veines. the area around Vegas is actually pretty nice with mounts and lakes. So far so fantastic. Appreaciate how my face gets transformed along the trip down.
After 1 min, he opens the parachute. Once settled he explains to me how it works, pull here to turn left, pull here to turn right. Easy. It is very reactive, and as he does it I could feel my stomach being shaken a little. The he gives me command for a few seconds and I play the same, left, right, left.
I would have never guessed it could happen, but in the end it was too much for my poor stomach. Like bubles in an ocean, I threw up my eggs and French toasts above my head, in about 10 seperated spits. I kept the bacon, it was too good to give away. My bastard instructor wasnt so happy I spit on him, whereas it made quite pleased to get my revenge on his arrogance. Who knows how many of those eggs got stuck in the parachute and those who landed far away from home.