While it was flying.
On purpose.
I've got the story and the documentation to prove it.
It started a few months ago when I discovered that Heather, a sales rep that works with our business, has a pilot's license and several jumps under her belt.
Full disclosure: it actually started 21 years ago when I learned how to ride a bicycle, and therefore began to speed on things with wheels.
I asked Heather to let me know when the next jump would be happening. A month ago, she informed me that some of her friends were getting a group together to skydive. "Are you still interested?" She asked me. "Ab. So. Lutely." I replied.
I was contacted by Heather's friend Kathy, one of the jumpers. Over the phone, she sounded completely thrilled that I was joining. Perhaps because my interest confirmed that there were other humans as crazy as herself. The fact that I made the group large enough to get a discounted rate was a bonus. Kathy informed me that "Kathy, spelled with a C" was in charge of the group. I talked with Cathy and found her to be just as exuberant about skydiving as Kathy was. Cathy informed me that I could bring along a friend if I wanted, so I set out to find someone as wantonly reckless as myself.
My friend Anne has been laboring away at the University of Iowa for quite some time, and I determined that she could use a break from her studies. What better way to relax than to get thrown out of an airplane? I imagine there are various alternative activities you would recommend, dear reader, but then you're most likely not a Graber. I asked Anne if she wanted to join, and she replied, "I would totally go but I should perhaps converse with my parents. They might be concerned for my safety." An excellent course of action, and one that I deliberately avoided because my parents are always concerned for my safety, so why bother them with additional worries?
You'd never suspect that Anne is a borderline
maniac, but then you'd be wrong.