John talks to Clem about skydiving. Clem is hesitant because jumping out of plane just for the sake of falling doesn't make a lot of sense, but John insists that such a stunt will make a big difference in Clem's life.
Clem says, "You wouldn't lie to me would you, John."
John says, "No way. I guarantee your life will be better, and jumping will be the greatest experience of your life. And better yet, all those people who made fun of you over the years will look at you in awe and Tweet 'OMG, he jumped out of a plane. LOL."
So Clem says, "Well, maybe ... How does it work?"
"First," John says, "we go up in a plane--"
"What kind of plane?"
"Why the very best of planes. Big luxurious seats. Drinks served. It will be the greatest experience of your life. Then the instructor will give you a parachute--"
"What kind of parachute?" Clem asks.
"The very best kind of parachute. It will be the greatest parachute ever. More like riding down in a luxury balloon with the magnificent landscape spread out below. And when you land, a limousine will pick you up. The limousine will have a complementary bar and a hot tub. This will be the greatest day of your life."
"But I've heard skydiving can cost several hundred dollars."
"Nope," John says. "$5. That's all. For the greatest day in your life. What could be better?
So Clem gives John $5 and the next day they go to a private airport so they don't have to stand in a line at the public airport. The private airport uses the cracked asphalt of an abandoned county road as a runway. An old athletic sock on a stick serves as a windsock, and a vintage 1931 Ford Trimotor, a 'Tin Goose', rusty and well-dented, waits on the runway.
Clem hesitates at the door. "I thought this was a luxury plane."
"It is," says John, "It's the greatest kind of luxury plane. This is a restored antique with the luxury all on the inside. We've got a leather couch for you to stretch out on, none of those knee knocking crowded seats like the commercial airlines. No uncomfortable seat belts. It will be the greatest experience of your life. Sign this first."
"What is it?" Clem signs without reading.
"Life and accident Insurance. Got to have insurance to jump. We'll automatically take the money from your checking account. Just a few thousand dollars. It's our way of looking after your health."
"Who is the beneficiary?"
"I am. Don't worry. Everything is going to be great."
So Clem climbs aboard and John goes into the cockpit where he argues with the pilot about how much flap they need to take off. A leather couch waits for Clem, but the leather is worn and torn with springs exposed.
The pilot swears and jumps out of the plane mumbling "Scams ... Morons ... Death trap."
The plane rumbles to life and begins its taxi with John at the controls. The bumpy runway causes Clem to fall onto the couch and knock over the warm beer sitting on the floor next to the couch. One of the airplane motors sputters and flames when they lift off the ground. Clem's knuckles turn white while he grips the sofa arms during the turbulent rise.
Wind whistles through the imperfectly sealed airplane door. The door latch snaps. The door slaps open and breaks loose from the plane. The windows are so dirty that Clem cannot see out, but now he can see clouds outside the door. The wind noise is overwhelming.
"Put on your parachute," John shouts from the cockpit. He points to the folded silk next to the couch.
"Where's my instructor?" Clem shouts back.
"Hey, you're a smart guy," John says. "One of the smartest. You don't need an instructor. Experts are over-payed smart-asses. Read the instructions are on the 'chute.' You are moments away from the greatest experience of your life."
Clem struggles into the parachute. It smells of mildew and rot. "How does this thing work?"
"All automatic," John says. "Detects your altitude and opens at the perfect moment."
"What if it doesn't open?"
"No problem. Then you pull the red handle and that opens the backup 'chute.' Perfectly safe. You will love every minute. Go to the door."
When Clem stands at the door with his clothes flapping in the window and eternity spread out before him, he says, "I don't think I can do this, John."
"Sad, so sad," John says. "Let me put the plane on autopilot. It can fly itself."
John hooks some bungee cords around the stick. Despite the turbulence, he stagger-steps to the door where Clem stands frozen.
"You look great. Absolutely marvelous, like a pro, like a bird ready to fly." John pushes Clem out the door.
Clem screams for the first twenty-seven seconds. When he gasps to take another breath, he remembers that the parachute opens automatically. The altimeter at his waist shows a needle approaching a red marker.
Soon. The parachute will open soon.
The needle passes the red marker, but the 'chute doesn't open. What next? Yes, yes, the emergency parachute. Clem pulls the red handle, and the emergency parachute unfolds, but it does not open. Instead it streams and flutters overhead without slowing him. Suddenly, the main chute opens, hits the streaming emergency chute and collapses. Now, two useless streams of silk flap overhead. The ground rushes upward.
Clem sighs. "Well, at least an air conditioned limousine is waiting to pick me up when I land. I hope the hot tub is cranked up, and the bar is well-stocked because I could use a soak and a drink. What an experience. Nothing can beat today. John is a great guy."
So Clem says, "Well, maybe ... How does it work?"
"First," John says, "we go up in a plane--"
"What kind of plane?"
"Why the very best of planes. Big luxurious seats. Drinks served. It will be the greatest experience of your life. Then the instructor will give you a parachute--"
"What kind of parachute?" Clem asks.
"The very best kind of parachute. It will be the greatest parachute ever. More like riding down in a luxury balloon with the magnificent landscape spread out below. And when you land, a limousine will pick you up. The limousine will have a complementary bar and a hot tub. This will be the greatest day of your life."
"But I've heard skydiving can cost several hundred dollars."
"Nope," John says. "$5. That's all. For the greatest day in your life. What could be better?
So Clem gives John $5 and the next day they go to a private airport so they don't have to stand in a line at the public airport. The private airport uses the cracked asphalt of an abandoned county road as a runway. An old athletic sock on a stick serves as a windsock, and a vintage 1931 Ford Trimotor, a 'Tin Goose', rusty and well-dented, waits on the runway.
Clem hesitates at the door. "I thought this was a luxury plane."
"It is," says John, "It's the greatest kind of luxury plane. This is a restored antique with the luxury all on the inside. We've got a leather couch for you to stretch out on, none of those knee knocking crowded seats like the commercial airlines. No uncomfortable seat belts. It will be the greatest experience of your life. Sign this first."
"What is it?" Clem signs without reading.
"Life and accident Insurance. Got to have insurance to jump. We'll automatically take the money from your checking account. Just a few thousand dollars. It's our way of looking after your health."
"Who is the beneficiary?"
"I am. Don't worry. Everything is going to be great."
So Clem climbs aboard and John goes into the cockpit where he argues with the pilot about how much flap they need to take off. A leather couch waits for Clem, but the leather is worn and torn with springs exposed.
The pilot swears and jumps out of the plane mumbling "Scams ... Morons ... Death trap."
The plane rumbles to life and begins its taxi with John at the controls. The bumpy runway causes Clem to fall onto the couch and knock over the warm beer sitting on the floor next to the couch. One of the airplane motors sputters and flames when they lift off the ground. Clem's knuckles turn white while he grips the sofa arms during the turbulent rise.
Wind whistles through the imperfectly sealed airplane door. The door latch snaps. The door slaps open and breaks loose from the plane. The windows are so dirty that Clem cannot see out, but now he can see clouds outside the door. The wind noise is overwhelming.
"Put on your parachute," John shouts from the cockpit. He points to the folded silk next to the couch.
"Where's my instructor?" Clem shouts back.
"Hey, you're a smart guy," John says. "One of the smartest. You don't need an instructor. Experts are over-payed smart-asses. Read the instructions are on the 'chute.' You are moments away from the greatest experience of your life."
Clem struggles into the parachute. It smells of mildew and rot. "How does this thing work?"
"All automatic," John says. "Detects your altitude and opens at the perfect moment."
"What if it doesn't open?"
"No problem. Then you pull the red handle and that opens the backup 'chute.' Perfectly safe. You will love every minute. Go to the door."
When Clem stands at the door with his clothes flapping in the window and eternity spread out before him, he says, "I don't think I can do this, John."
"Sad, so sad," John says. "Let me put the plane on autopilot. It can fly itself."
John hooks some bungee cords around the stick. Despite the turbulence, he stagger-steps to the door where Clem stands frozen.
"You look great. Absolutely marvelous, like a pro, like a bird ready to fly." John pushes Clem out the door.
Clem screams for the first twenty-seven seconds. When he gasps to take another breath, he remembers that the parachute opens automatically. The altimeter at his waist shows a needle approaching a red marker.
Soon. The parachute will open soon.
The needle passes the red marker, but the 'chute doesn't open. What next? Yes, yes, the emergency parachute. Clem pulls the red handle, and the emergency parachute unfolds, but it does not open. Instead it streams and flutters overhead without slowing him. Suddenly, the main chute opens, hits the streaming emergency chute and collapses. Now, two useless streams of silk flap overhead. The ground rushes upward.
Clem sighs. "Well, at least an air conditioned limousine is waiting to pick me up when I land. I hope the hot tub is cranked up, and the bar is well-stocked because I could use a soak and a drink. What an experience. Nothing can beat today. John is a great guy."
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