Far Out (Part Two)

So I concentrated on landing position. My feet were definitely together and I descended form the sky into a sea of green. Contact with ground was fast and stinging.

I had landed correctly and had no broken bones. Dazed, I got up and looked at the disaster I had created. Suspension lines hung from milo stalks and the canopy draped over them. There wasn't anyway I could field pack this mess.

I bundled it up and trudged out of the field, half-expecting to see some distraught farmer coming after me with a damage suit.

But, no, Gary was waiting with his car so I didn't have to walk back. Then I realized this immense sense of accomplishment.

I now understood why parachute club members live for week-ends, and why John once made 22 jumps in a week. I also knew why I had been smiling since I had left the plane.

How was my first parachute jump? "Wow, it was far out!"

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