Alright boys and girls...

Story time. Most of you know this story, but I feel bored so I'm going to tell it anyway.

When I was in the army, I used to be a paratrooper. It really wasn't for me, and here's why: my second jump of airborne school I was the "chalk pusher." This means I was the last to exit the aircraft. Two jumpers ahead of me, the soldier decided to exit very poorly (he sat down on the platform, instead of walking out of the aircraft). This caused me and the person in front of me to exit poorly as well. I hit the side of the door as I left the aircraft. This caused me to spin uncontrollably. When I was finally able to check my chute, I realized that half of the lines that connect me to the canopy were cut. On top of all this, there were two rather large holes in my chute.

I pulled my reserve, and to my dismay, fell lifelessly. In that spit second, my life truly passed before my eyes. I always thought that was just something people put in movies to make it sound more dramatic.

Lucky for me, I failed to realize that it takes a second for the chute to catch air. Next thing I knew, my reserve was open. I was still heading for ground at a rapid pace, so I was wondering what bone I would be breaking once I landed. I ended up landing on my side, mostly on my shoulder (to this day, my shoulder hurts, but nothing was broken).

There was an investigation that concluded that it was my fault for the accident. I exited poorly causing all of the problems. Later that day we had another jump. As I ate my lunch, I was shaking horribly, and the head instructor noticed. He came by and asked if I was good to go for the next jump, and that if I wanted, I could wait until next class to finish up. I told him that I already had two down, I might as well go for the last three. So later that day, I completed my third jump.

Well there you go. The day I almost died, for your reading pleasure. If you have any questions about it, leave a comment.

Oh yeah, two days until I start my vacation.

Peace,

Tony