"An Adventure of Record-Breaking Proportions"

The day finally arrived. After seven long months of planning, our vacation had finally begun. As always, this was going to be no ordinary vacation - there are never any ordinary vacations in the Verley house. Instead, this was going to be a record-breaking, skydiving vacation, set in an exotic location far from home. Well, not quite far from home, and not quite that exotic either. In May, John was invited to participate in the Arizona Challenge, an event hosted by the World Champion Skydiving Team Arizona Airspeed and the renowned organizer George Jicha. The event, which takes places annually during Memorial Day weekend, involves achieving the some very intricate skydiving formations. This year, the theme of the challenge was "Speed"; the 96 skydivers formed four twenty-four-person "zippers" and linked them together into a giant X. They would then transition those X's into a box with "tails" on each of the corners, doing so as quickly as possible. All participants in the Arizona Challenge were subsequently invited to join the latest world record attempt - a 300-Way, which would take place December 7-19, 2002, in the resort city of Maceió, Brazil. After much discussion, we finally decided that all three of us would go. While John went skydiving during the day, Mary and I would play on the beach and be served drinks by Brazilian cabana boys. I was certainly getting excited at the prospect of having the luxury vacation that I had only dreamed about, and John…well, he was excited about being in a World Record Attempt, no matter where it was. A month later, John received an e-mail from Jack Jeffries (of Arizona Airspeed) stating that the 300-Way World Record Skydiving Attempt would not take place in Brazil. The Brazilian military had offered the group five C-130 Hercules aircraft for the attempt then grounded themselves when the government fell through on their annual funding. Without a guarantee that the aircraft would fly for the attempt, the organizers of the 300-Way decided that it was in the best interest of the event to move it to another location…Eloy, AZ, the home of Skydive Arizona. Elevation 1513 feet, Eloy is located next to the city of Casa Grande, about fifty miles south of Phoenix. The town itself is not much to look at, but it is home to one of the largest skydiving centers in the world - Skydive Arizona, which is a skydiving resort when compared to most drop zones. It has often been described as a skydiving Mecca, as, during the winter months, when other drop zones are closed, Skydive Arizona is a boom-town, hosting a vast number of skydivers from all over the world, all of whom flock here to enjoy the perfect weather and to skydive year-round. It wasn't exactly the luxury vacation that I was looking forward to, but it didn't really matter where they held the event. The important thing was that John had been invited, and he finally had his chance to be a part of skydiving history. Naturally, getting the two weeks off to participate in the attempt was difficult for him. The company that he works for was about to go live with a new payroll system on January 1, and John - the payroll manager - was one of the key players in the conversion. His boss was miffed, to say the least, but she was at least understanding about it and allowed him to take the two weeks that he needed for the event. I, on the other hand, had no problem getting the two weeks off for the event, but did I really want to spend my vacation at Club Eloy? Instead of being served by cabana boys, I was going to be served by Sissy, the bartender at the Bent Prop Saloon. It wasn't my dream vacation, but in the end, it didn’t matter to me where the world record attempt took place. What was important was that I was going to watch a world record attempt unfold and be there for the duration, to give the team (especially John) my moral support and to cheer them on. I wouldn't miss it for the world. The plans for our vacation fell together nicely. While John kept up-to-date on the latest information pertaining to the 300-way, I carefully planned all of the other details, including what to pack, activities to keep Mary entertained in between jumps, and what to eat. John's parents also contributed to the cause by allowing us to use their motor home for the duration, so that we would have a comfortable place of refuge in the evening, after the last jump of the day had ended. We would also be able to cook our meals, rather than eat out every night. Despite the fact that we were on vacation, I still wanted to eat sensibly. And, instead of driving home every night and wasting all of that gas, we would be able to stay at the campground at Skydive Arizona, in one of the five RV slots in the parking lot. The time passed quickly, and soon December 6 was upon us. That morning, while I worked one last day, and Mary spent one last day at day care, John brought the motor home to Skydive Arizona so that he could register for the 300-way and make a few warm-up jumps, too. That evening, after work, I picked up Mary and drove with her to Eloy to join him. I arrived at the Drop Zone at 6:00 that night. As soon as I stepped out of the car, I could already feel the energy in the air, the buzz of excitement about what was going to take place there over the next several days. Next to the rigging shop, there was a "Go Fast" bus - Go Fast, a competitor of Red Bull energy drinks, was one of the sponsors of the 300-way. At the bus, there was a long line of skydivers, waiting for their turn to register and to receive their assortment of 300-way T-shirts and other paraphernalia. In the midst of the excitement, I found the motor home and parked next to it. Inside, John was just calming down after an exciting day, during which he had joined a 40-way group and had done some other, smaller jumps. He was wearing one of his new 300-Way T-shirts - he had received some of them for free and had purchased others, including one for me - and he was drinking a beer to toast the beginning of his vacation. Once I was there, he and Mary and I took a walk around the drop zone to go socialize, but since most of the excitement of the day was beginning to wear down, and most of his friends had gone home already, we returned to the motor home to unwind. The 300-Way event began the next morning at 10:00 a.m., when all of the participants met at Manifest get started. The large group was then divided into three smaller groups of 104 to 108 people each. Each group would do two practice jumps on Saturday, then three jumps on Sunday, to warm up for the big event. The first attempt at building the 300-Way would take place on Monday. The schedule for the first weekend had been printed in an article in the Arizona Republic newspaper on Thursday, December 5; however, spectators came from far and wide to Skydive Arizona to watch the practice jumps anyway. Many of them watched in wonder and awe as they saw the 104-ways build in the skies above them. It still fascinates me to see such a large formation load, even though I have seen it many times before. Of course, the best part of watching those formation loads was knowing that John was a part of the excitement. Being the wife of a skydiver, I have often found myself answering one question after another from the many spectators who flock to Skydive Arizona to watch the action. (They don't just come out for events like this; many of the winter visitors come out daily, bringing picnic lunches and lawn chairs, just to watch the skydivers.) It doesn't help that I sometimes wear skydiving T-shirts, naturally, but what often gives me away is when Mary starts shouting "Daddy!" whenever she sees the parachutes landing. (She started doing that during the Rocky Point Boogie 2002, and now anything that is airborne is "Daddy", including airplanes, hot air balloons, skydivers…you name it.) "Yes, that's Daddy!" I say to her, and that always opens the can of worms. "Is your husband on this world record?" "How long has he been jumping?" "How did he get picked for this?" "What do you think of him doing this?" "Have you jumped, too?" "How do you feel about him skydiving even though you have a child?" "How high are they jumping from?" "How did he managed to get that much time off of work to do this?" (I laughed at that one.) "Is this is first record attempt, or has he been on others?" In between jumps, I spent time chatting with Jan and Gloria and other familiar faces from around the drop zone. Mary, too, was the social butterfly and went from one person to another, spreading her good cheer. She made many friends that weekend, and glommed on them whenever possible. When it was time for groups to jump, though, our attention turned to the skies, to watch the formations build above us. Even Mary took the time to look upward, to see the five-plane formation fly over ahead on jump run, to watch the tiny specks of people streaming out of them then link together to create a giant mass of humanity some 14,000 feet above us. Then, as time ran out, a parachute would deploy in the center of the formation, and the other 103 people would track away. Soon, there were over 104 canopies opening with a loud crack in the sky, and seconds later, all of them were landing in front of us, creating a stir of cheers from the spectators. It was an amazing site, to say the least, but I had to remind myself - and others - that it was only a third of what we would be seeing later on that week. Following John's first jump of the day, I went over to the DC-3 hangar to visit him. Newly constructed to house the DC-3, the hangar had been set up as a staging area and debriefing site for all 300 skydivers, the cameramen, and the 30 alternates. There were thirteen tents set up, one for each section of the 300-way formation: Base Black, Base White, Base Red, Base Blue (John's section), Whackers 1 through 8, and the A-Team (the alternates). The four base tents were named for the color of the jumpsuits; the organizers had decided on a patriotic theme for the formation and had chosen red, white, blue and black jumpsuits. At one end of the hangar, between Base Blue and Base White, there was back door and a video screen, as well as a PA system. There, the organizers would conduct the large debriefing sessions, lecture hall style. In each of the tents, there were television sets and VCR's, onto which the jumps would be dubbed, so that the sector captains could debrief their individual teams. Outside of the hangar, there was a "roach coach" - a mobile snack shop where the skydivers and crew could buy burgers, hot dogs, French fries, potato chips, sodas, and other snacks to satisfy their cravings. There were also bins shaped like a can of Go Fast, in which the jumpers could find free cans of the sports energy drink. The free cans of Go Fast, though a good idea for the skydivers who needed the energy boost, were a bad idea for Mary. John introduced her to the drink during the 300-way - and she loved it (good news for Go Fast, bad news for Mommy). For two hours after the fact, she was buzzing like a hummingbird. When Eric Asendorf saw what John was doing, he called out, "Child abuse!" "Yeah? But I don't have to deal with her like that," John retorted, as I glared at him. The hangar was buzzing with excitement, and there was a positive energy in the air, coming from the more than 300 skydivers who were absolutely certain that they were going to break the world record. I don't think that there was a single person there who believed that it couldn't be done. Having been through such a negative environment at work lately, it felt wonderful to be there among so many good feelings. I, too, began to believe that this was going to happen. If I had ever had a doubt before, the positive energy had erased it from my mind. "They going to do it this time," I thought. Each group did two jumps on Saturday, and after the last group landed - around 5:00 that evening - there was a reception in the hangar, catered by the Holiday Inn in Casa Grande. There were appetizers, wine and beer to be enjoyed by the skydivers, their families, and the crew. That was when we got to see all of the familiar faces: Mary Traub and Brent Finley, Bekie Thompson, John Coffman, Ruud DeHeij, Malcolm Gareau, Eric Asendorf, and many, many others. We also met new friends for the first time, including Joan Traub, Mary's mother. I met her by accident during the last three jumps of the day. She asked me what my daughter's name was, and when I answered, "Her name is Mary," she told me that was her daughter's name, too. I immediately realized whom I was talking to and asked her, "Is your daughter Mary Traub?" And when she said yes, I told her that my Mary was named after her! I introduced myself to her, and she said, "I should have known who you are! Mary has told us all about you, and I've seen your picture, too." What a small world! We did not stay too late at the hangar, because it was soon time for Mary - and John - to go to bed. They would be getting an early start in the morning, so he needed his rest. The next morning - and every morning after that - breakfast was served in the hangar at 7:00 a.m., and the skydivers would all need to meet there by 8:00 a.m., no later. John arrived at 7:30 every morning, so that he could stretch before starting the day. Once Mary was awake and we were both dressed warmly for the day, we made our way out to the spectators' area to watch the first jump of the day. In order to get around the drop zone with ease, I pulled Mary along in her little red wagon, which got a lot of grins from spectators and skydivers alike. "Now that's the way to travel," they would say. I had to agree with them, because it was murder trying to carry a thirty-pound two-year-old around the drop zone when she decides that she's too tired to walk! The first jump of the day for each group was done at an altitude of 14,000 feet, and none of the three groups managed to complete their formations. As the groups landed from their jumps, I could sense that there was a little bit of tension, but they continued to have a positive attitude anyway. For the next two rounds, the jumpers were taken to 20,000 feet to test out the oxygen supplies. During the 300-ways, the jumpers would be taken to 21,000 feet above the ground (23,500 feet above sea level) - high enough that they were going to require oxygen to stave off hypoxia. Each skydiver would be given breathing tubes that would hook into an oxygen reserve. At 12,000 feet, the oxygen would be turned on, and all of the jumpers were asked to reserve their strength by sitting quietly aboard the plane, breathing oxygen from their air tubes. Some of them used face masks while some just put the tubes into their mouths. Others, like John, were given special helmets with tubing built into them. The air tube connected to the back of the helmet and allowed the jumper to breathe through a nose tube inside the helmet. (These helmets were available for purchase, and since the price was right, John bought his first helmet!) The next two rounds of jumps went well, but there were still some problems with the first group. Each group was attempting to build the formation that would be the base of the 300-way; however, Group #1 (the group that John was in) WAS the base of the 300-way, and it was imperative that they succeed. By the end of the day, they still had not built their formation, and John could tell that there were going to be some changes made before the first 300-way attempt went up on Monday. He was just hoping that he would not be one of the jumpers cut. After John's last jump of the day, Mary and I went over to the hangar to see what was going on. Then, I decided to take Mary to the Casa Grande outlet malls to do a little Christmas shopping. In the midst of all the excitement, John and I still had to think about the holidays. We had already finished most of our shopping prior to leaving on our vacation, but there were still a few gifts to buy - that, and I just wanted to get out for a while, since there wasn't anything else going on. The outlet malls in Casa Grande were bustling with excitement, as Christmas shoppers filed into the different stores, looking for the perfect gift. Christmas music was being piped in over the loud speakers above the sidewalks, and every store window was festively decorated. Mary, who had just begun to recognize Santa Claus, stopped to point out every single picture - and every single Christmas tree, too - through the whole mall. When we returned to the Drop Zone, around 6:00 p.m., John was just rushing out of the motor home to be at a debrief/dirt dive at the hangar. He came back about a half an hour later to tell me what the plan was for Monday. Since the base group still had not done what it was supposed to do - build the base - they were going to go up on one more practice dive at 8:00 a.m. Then, around 10:00 or 11:00 a.m., the first 300-way attempt would take place. Having learned the schedule for the day, the jumpers began to dirt dive the 300-way. In addition to walking through the skydive, they also lay down on the ground, to get an idea of what the formation would look like in the air. John said that the formation filled the asphalt area between the two hangars - roughly the size of a football field! In order to get a picture of it, the cameraman had to climb up on a crane that had been reserved for that purpose. Monday morning arrived, and while I went grocery shopping in town, the 104-way base group went up on one more practice dive. Although they did build the base this time, they did so in over forty seconds - a bit slower than they wanted, but at least they had done what they had set out to do. Now the anticipation was building. In the hangar, the buzz of excitement was growing louder and louder, and in the parking lot, there was a steady stream of spectators arriving to see the event take place. Among them was Janice (John's sister) and little Joshua. Not long after that, John's cousin Lisa Ochs and her son Michael arrived, too. Meanwhile, from the motor home, we could see the 300 skydivers, dirt-diving in the desert behind the hangar, just moments before they boarded their planes. Around 10:30, the first attempt got underway. Fourteen aircraft - Skydive Arizona's Skyvan and thirteen Super Otters from drop zones all over the country - took off into the sky and began the long climb up to altitude. For the next thirty minutes, we waited by John's designated landing area - the alternate landing area, conveniently located only a hundred feet from the motor home - and we scanned the skies for any sign of the airplane formation. It was hard to spot at first, but soon we saw them slowly approaching the drop zone from the vicinity of the town of Coolidge, and we waited for jump run, with all eyes fixated at the sky. The planes were in a tight V formation as they passed overhead. Just before jump run, a streamer was thrown from the Skyvan, and ten seconds later - the moment we had all been waiting for - the jumpers filed out of the aircraft! From the ground, it looked like a formation of little flies pooping in series. Then, the little specks grew into one large, colorful disk in the sky. The spectators ooh-ed and aah-ed as they watched each individual speck fly towards the formation, hoping to be in his or her spot before they reached 7,000 feet, at which time George Jicha would pull his parachute to signal break-off. Unfortunately, not everyone got into the formation in time, and as soon as George's parachute was out, they all began to turn and track away. No one expected the formation to build on the first dive, and no one was surprised that it didn't. In fact, during the first day, there were a lot of kinks that still needed to be worked out - for example, the airplane formation was too tight and was later changed - in order for the team to be successful later on in the week. Within seconds after the first attempt had ended, the skies were filled with hundreds of canopies, in what was a most amazing sight! Parachutes of every color were coming in for a landing, amidst applause from the spectators. Even I was in awe to see the sky so full of parachutists - it was like nothing I had ever seen before. Mary, too, was awed by the sight, and she shouted, "Wow!" as she watched them land in front of her. And, of course, as soon as John landed, she shouted, "Daddy!" It was two hours in between jumps. During those two hours, Janice and I put the kids down for their naps then waited for the next load to go up. Both Mary and Joshua slept through the next attempt, although Joshua awoke soon after the second attempt landed. He had been sick, and as a result, he coughed himself awake. After the children finished their naps, we took them both over to the hangar to see John and to wait for the last attempt of the day. I also thought that Joshua might get a kick out of seeing the DC-3, which was parked nearby. However, he was more interested in the two semi trucks that were parked next to the entrance of the drop zone - needless to say Joshua loves trucks - so we took him over there to see them. We took him and Mary, riding in the wagon, in between the two trucks, and he loved it! The last attempt of the day took place right before sunset. Although it did not build, I did not sense any sort of disappointment from the group as they landed. In fact, many of them were sure that they were going to do it on Tuesday, because they were getting so close. Each time they went up, they got that much closer to completing the formation, and many of them were certain that it was only a matter of time before they got it. After the last jump ended, and Janice and Joshua had gone home, John and Mary and I retired to the motor home to cook dinner and to rest. It was then that I got the call I had been waiting for - my friend Charlene Magee had just had her baby! Meredith Rachel Magee was born earlier that evening, weighing in at eight pounds and ten ounces and twenty inches tall. Now came the moral dilemma: do I stay at the drop zone, in case they break the record, or do I go see the new baby? I was not going to have another chance to see her before our New Year's Day get-together, but I also wanted to be there in case they broke the record. Decisions, decisions… I had already been planning to go back to Phoenix for part of the day on Tuesday, so that I could check on the house and exchange vehicles. John wanted me to drop off my car and drive the Jeep back to the DZ, because they were supposed to have a day off from jumping on Wednesday. If that was the case, he thought it might be a good idea to go hiking somewhere close by - perhaps in the Table Top Wilderness Area. Although there was a rumor circulating that they weren't going to get the day off, he still wanted me to bring the Jeep back…just in case. With all of that in mind, I finally decided to leave for Phoenix as early as possible and run all of my errands as quickly as I could. Then, I would be able to spend a little bit of time with Charlene and Mike and their new baby before heading back to Eloy. If I timed everything just right, I would only miss the first two jumps of the day - and if I was lucky, I would not miss the record. I left for Phoenix at 7:20 a.m., and even though I had to sit through traffic in the Awahtukee area, I arrived at the house at 8:40 a.m. Quickly, I rushed through the house, sorted the mail, checked voicemail and e-mail, fed the cats, entertained Mary (thank goodness for Sesame Street!), answered some calls…and at 9:30 a.m., I was ready to go. We then drove to Scottsdale Shea, where we paid a visit to the newborn Baby Magee. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to hold her, because Mary, for some unknown reason, freaked out. I'm not sure why she did what she did, but I believe that she may have remembered being in the hospital when she was ten months old, and she may have thought that she was going to stay there. For whatever reason, she clung to me and would not let go for several minutes. When Meredith began to cry, so did Mary! Eventually, with some coaxing, I was able to get her to let go of me, but if I left her side, she would begin to cry. I was so glad that I made the decision to visit Charlene and Meredith in the hospital, and my only regret was having to cut the visit so short. In fact, I had to make a very graceful exit when I discovered that Mary's diaper was leaking! Her pink floral pants were already soaked, and it was only going to get worse. With lots of hugs for Charlene and lots of cheerful "bye-bye's" from Mary (who was obviously relieved that our visit to the hospital was not meant for her), we left the hospital and raced down to the parking garage for a new diaper and a change of clothing for the long drive back to Eloy. I drove like a maniac back to Eloy, in hopes that I would make it there by the third jump. En route, I stopped at the Circle K on Toltec Road to buy beer, ice, and the newspaper. I had heard that there was an article about the event in the paper, but I had no idea that they were on the front page! Imagine my surprise when I picked it up and saw the base of the 300-way against the clear, blue Arizona sky, taking up half of the front page! I was so excited that I bought two copies of it as keepsakes. After all, it's not every day that I see my husband in the newspaper! I arrived at the Drop Zone at 1:00 p.m., only moments before they began to gear up for their third jump. Outside, there were news vans all over the place: KGUN 9 (Tucson), KOLD 13 (Tucson), and Fox 10 (Phoenix), to name a few. (I parked behind the Fox 10 van, blocking it, so that I could get the motor home keys from John.) Inside, the positive energy - the excitement - had grown, because the group had come so close on their last attempt. All but two whackers had completed, and the jumpers were feeling incredibly confident. I raced back to the motor home to get ready for the third jump of the day. We waited for all of the aircraft to take off; then, fifteen minutes after that, we found ourselves a nice spot among the spectators at the alternate landing area. I answered many, many questions while we scanned the skies for any sign of the planes. Once the planes were spotted, we watched and waited for jump run. Once again, the jump went well. Although two whackers still did not build, they were very close. Could it happen on the next jump? Unfortunately, it didn't, because there was not a fourth jump that day. The planes went up, but they had trouble getting all of them into the proper formation, which forced them to do a "go-around". Then, just before jump run, the planes separated from their formation and began to descend. However, two skydivers left the plane and deployed their canopies. Curious, I put Mary into the wagon and walked over to the hangar just in time to watch all fourteen aircraft land. I asked around to see what had happened, but no one seemed to know for sure. Some thought that the planes had run out of oxygen, but the official story was that someone on the Skyvan had gotten sick. When the pilots communicated to each other that the jump had been aborted, two skydivers - Eric Asendorf and Brent Finley - misunderstood the pilot and climbed out of the plane…only to realize that the Skyvan door was still closed! Unable to hold onto the plane, they fell off and did a two-way - with video! - in what was later described as one of the most expensive skydives! During the debrief, we learned that the rumor was true: the jumpers were not going to get the day off on Wednesday. Had they been doing poorly, the day off would have been necessary, so that they could take some time to regroup before meeting again on Thursday. However, they were doing so well, and the energy level was so high, that taking a day off would have been a bad idea. They needed to keep jumping, because as I said, it was only a matter of time before the record was broken. While John listened to the debrief, which included a skit by Mallory Lewis and Lambchop (yes, the Lambchop, the sock puppet made famous by Sherri Lewis), Mary met up with her friend Nathan DeHeij, Ruud's three year-old son. Nathan and Mary had played together during the Arizona Challenge and became good friends, and they had been playing together since Monday night. Mary allowed him to pull her around the hangar in her little red wagon, and both kids were giggling hysterically at the fun they were having. That evening, we decided to go into Casa Grande for dinner, because we needed to dump the tanks on the motor home. The only problem was, we weren't ready! We had already settled in, and in order to drive the motor home, we needed to pin down anything that could become a projectile during a left turn. We scrambled about for fifteen minutes, putting things away so that they were secure for travel; then, after John pulled in the slide-out and lifted the jacks, we were finally ready to go…sort of. John forgot to put down the TV antenna, but we were fortunate that it didn't blow away during the trip down the highway. We also didn't have time to move the Jeep or the lawn furniture on either side of the motor home; that made pulling back into our slot a bit challenging…but not impossible. In fact, upon our return, John managed to maneuver the motor home perfectly into its slot, parking it exactly where it had been in the first place! We awoke to a cold morning on Wednesday. There was frost on the windows of the cars parked at the drop zone, and we could see our breath when we went outside. It was definitely a morning to sit in the motor home, curled up under a blanket with a cup of hot coffee and a book of crossword puzzles. No such luck for me, though, because I needed to try to get some laundry done in between jumps that day. Bundled up in our heavy jackets and winter clothes, Mary and I ventured over to the laundry room with our basket of clothes in tow, but I discovered that there was a line! And, to make matters worse, the washing machine was stuck on the rinse cycle. On the way back to the motor home, I met up with Gloria, who said that she had overheard that there was no more water on the drop zone! "That would explain the washing machine!" I said. "It was stuck on rinse. If there's no water, there's no rinse cycle! I guess I'll have to wash my clothes in Casa Grande." Naturally, I did not want to leave the drop zone to do my laundry, so I decided that it could wait until later that night, after the last jump of the day. Meanwhile, the first attempt of the day had taken off, so Mary and I traipsed over to the landing area to watch. It took a little bit longer for us to spot the planes, because they had managed to get extra altitude for this jump - 23,000 feet above ground. Many of the jumpers were excited: extra altitude meant extra time to build the formation! However, there were some unforeseen problems with the jump due to the extra altitude: ice! It was -30°F at 23,000 feet that morning, and many of the skydivers were unable to find the formation because the face shields on their masks iced up! They thawed at 7,000 feet - break-off time - and all of the jumpers landed safely, but disappointed that another attempt had failed. The second jump took off around 11:00 a.m., and though it was better, there were still a few issues with people going low. As John landed, he could sense that there was some tension, and he knew that there was going to be some slot changes coming soon. While he was telling me about the second jump, we discovered that his mother's Jeep was in the parking lot…but where was Erika? John went out to look for her and found her walking across the campground, towards the motor home where she was happy to find all of us. After greeting his mother, John picked up his gear and returned to the hangar to prepare for the third jump. The third jump was delayed, due to air traffic control schedules. Since the planes were flying higher than 18,000 feet, they had to be regulated by the FAA and were required to fly on schedule to allow for commercial air travel to pass safely through the skies. Fortunately, it was only a half-hour delay, which gave Erika and me a chance to chat - and gave Mary a chance to catch a nap! Once the planes went up again, though, it was time to walk out to the landing area to watch. Mary, Erika and I all lay down on the grass so that we could get a better view of the formation building overhead. It seemed that all of the problems from earlier in the day had been forgotten, because this time, it was so close! The base and all of the whackers built smoothly, and at the end of the attempt, only a few people were still out. They went up for one more attempt that day, at 4:30 p.m. This time, everything seemed to be building smoothly, but there was a collision in the red-base sector that took out most of the blue-base team (except for John and a couple of others, as I saw in the video). The problem corrected itself, but it wasn't enough to complete the formation. As soon as they landed, a rumor began to circulate that there were going to be some slot assignment changes in the morning, before the first jump of the day. Many of the jumpers in the base were on edge, including John, but despite the tension, there was still a large amount of positive energy among them. It was going to happen on Thursday. There was no question about it now. With the last jump of the day over, the day ended with a fly-by: all fourteen aircraft flew overhead, at an altitude of about 1,000 feet, in a perfect V formation. Words cannot describe how amazing it was to see such a sight. That evening, after the debrief and after Erika had left for the day, John and Mary and I returned to Casa Grande to do our laundry. While I stayed at the Laundromat to wash the clothes, John and Mary went Christmas shopping. Among the gifts that John purchased was a new still camera to replace our current camera - it was an early Christmas present for us, one that we needed. This one would take panoramic pictures, which would be ideal for capturing the sky full of canopies after one of the 300-way attempts. I couldn't wait to use it. Thursday morning, as expected, the axe fell on the base of the 300-way. Many of the jumpers were benched and replaced with the A-Team. The slot changes and dirt dives took all morning, and the first jump didn't go up until 10:30 a.m. While we were waiting for the planes to go up, Mary and I kept an eye out for my dad. He had called on Wednesday to say that he had come out to Eloy on Tuesday, but had left at 1:00 p.m. when he couldn't find me there. (I, of course, was in Phoenix, visiting Charlene!) I insisted that he come out again, so he said that he would be there on Thursday. He showed up around 10:30 that morning, just in time to watch the first jump of the day. The first attempt of the day was the best jump yet. It built to 297 - only three people on one whacker didn't make it into the formation in time. Aside from that, the whole formation was stable and flat - they were flying at their best that day. (Whatever roster changes they made, worked!) As they landed from the jump, they were all psyched, confident that they were going to break the record that day. Many of them believed that it would happen on the second jump of the day. I believed that it would happen that day, if not on the second, then on the third jump. The second jump that day was aborted. After a quick turn-around, the jumpers were back on their planes between 12:00 and 12:30 p.m. However, they took off a little bit too late. As they reached 8,000 feet, the FAA informed them that they did not have the clearance to be there, and they were asked to land until 12:50 p.m., at which time they could take off again. Dad and Mary and I waited in the motor home for the next attempt. During that time, Mary became a little bit bored and decided that she wanted to play with the screen door. It probably wasn't a good idea for her to be doing that; she was situated on the top step and was often leaning far enough forward that she could have fallen... …and, of course, that is precisely what she did! She tumbled down all three steps of the motor home, catching her arm on the last step in such a way that Dad thought she had broken it. Her arm was not injured, but she did managed to hit her head so hard that she ended up with a knot the size of a ping pong ball on her forehead. After ten minutes of ear-splitting screams, though, she calmed down and reverted back to her normal, playful self…but not before I had the pediatrician on the phone! Throughout the day, the excitement continued to build across the entire drop zone. I couldn't help but feel sort of giddy myself, just knowing that history was about to be made right before my eyes. Each time the airplanes took off, I raced out to the landing area to watch, holding my breath as the planes approached on jump run and chanting, "Come on, you can do it!" over and over again as the skydivers came together in the formation. The second attempt built slowly, and it did not complete, but it still wasn't enough to break their confidence. At 4:00 p.m., they went up again for one last jump… Everything about this jump just seemed right. The energy of the jumpers, the support and the cheers from the spectators…all of the pieces just seemed to fall into place leading up to this attempt. Then, as we spotted the airplanes coming in on jump run, and when we saw how perfectly aligned they were…I think that we all knew that it was going to happen this time. The jumpers streamed out of the airplanes and quickly, smoothly, came together in the formation - first the base, then all eight whackers. I held my breath as I watched the last person dock, as I counted three, four, five…It was complete, and it seemed to hold forever before George Jicha finally pulled his parachute, signaling break-off. In just a few more seconds, all of the other canopies were open, and those of us on the ground could hear the cheers coming from above. They knew it had happened, too! They knew that they had built the 300-person formation! As soon as they landed, the celebration began. The skydivers leapt into each other's arms, congratulating each other with hugs and pats on the back. Once John was on the ground, I ran over to him and gave him a hug and a kiss, because I was so proud of him. Without stopping to pack, John gathered up his gear, and all four of us walked as fast as we could to the hangar, to watch the official video of the jump, to verify what we already knew. En route, we stopped briefly at Manifest, in the main hangar, to see the ground-to-air video of the jump. Just as we suspected, the formation built and held for longer than the required three seconds needed to be a world record. In fact, I counted five seconds from the time that the last person docked. Although it was still unofficial, I knew that they had a world record. We left Manifest just in time to see the celebratory fly-by. Once again, all fourteen aircraft flew over the drop zone in a perfect V formation, at an altitude of about 1,000 feet. Cheers filled the air, and the party had begun. In the 300-Way hangar, we all crowded around the TV sets in our respective tents to watch Mike McGowan's video of the skydive. Each time the video was played, loud cheers erupted throughout the hangar. Soon thereafter, everyone had a beer in his hand, and party music was being piped in over the sound system. All of the skydivers, as well as their friends and family, gathered inside the hangar and celebrated, all the while waiting for the official word from the FAI judges. Despite the on-going celebration, there were some doubts about the record. Although there was a consensus that the formation held for longer than three seconds, there was a rumor that it may have only held for two - and that would disqualify the attempt. There was also a story circulating that a Cypres - an automatic deployment device - had fired during break-off. That, too, might disqualify the skydive, because all of the skydivers would have to deploy their parachutes at a safe altitude. (If a Cypres fired, it meant that someone had failed to deploy his or her main parachute before reaching a certain altitude.) Those little rumors created a tiny bit of tension among the skydivers, but they weren't about to end their celebration! It seemed like an eternity before the FAI judge emerged from the debriefing room, escorted by Jack Jeffries. Someone turned off the music as Jack and the judge took the stage, and the room became very silent, nervously awaiting the verdict. And as the FAI judge held up the official photo, Jack announced to the crowd, "We have a world record!" A roar of cheers erupted throughout the hangar - they did it! And not only did they do it, but the formation also held for an incredible 7.02 seconds! Immediately after the announcement was made, Jack, Dan and George informed the 300-way that the next step was to go bigger. It had been their intention that, if they set the record early enough in the week, they would attempt to build a bigger formation - in other words, break their own record. Beginning Friday at noon, the group would meet at the hangar to dirt dive the 330-person formation that they would attempt to build next. The party continued well into the night. (My dad, however, left early on, to avoid the mayhem that would ensue.) The Bent Prop was completely filled with skydivers all there to celebrate the success of the 300-way. John and I stopped in there for a couple of drinks after Mary went to bed that night, and we could hardly break through the crowd it was so thick. Among the people there, we saw several faces that we had not seen in a long time, one of which was Jimmy Koonz, who used to video John's four-way team Fast Track back in 1998. He had come to Arizona specifically to watch the 300-way and was surprised to see that John had been a part of it. We also spent some time talking to Eric Asendorf, who had just told his girlfriend - Monica - about the 300-way. She had just been on the Women's World Record (Jump for the Cause) a few months ago, so she congratulated him for being a world record holder like herself. I guess that's when it hit me: my husband is a World Record holder! How cool is that? I was so incredibly proud of him, and I was so glad that I had been there to see it, that I had been there to offer John my moral support, to help him be a part of the success. But did it go to his head? Of course it did! As soon as he went back to work, John announced to his staff, "That's right, I'm a world record holder. Who wants to touch me?" (He said the same thing to Janice and Danny during Christmas - it was quite funny.) The next morning, we both awoke late and slowly started the morning. Instead of the usual breakfast of orange juice and cereal, we decided to go to the Denny's in Casa Grande. There, we purchased the morning paper and discovered that there was a picture of the 300-way, on the front page. Once again, John had made the front page of the paper - what an exciting day! The skydivers began their day at noon. Many of them were just coming off of a long night of partying and were still hung-over. As a result, the organizers decided that they were not going to begin the "go bigger" attempts until Saturday. Instead, they pulled all of the remaining 328 jumpers together and walked through the formation that they would be attempting in the morning. Then, at 2:00 p.m., they were released for the day. Rather than sit around doing nothing with the rest of his day, John got together with John Coffman and Gloria - from his new four-way team, the Chuckleheads - to do a few training jumps. It felt weird for him to do something so small, after being a part of something so big, but it was a welcome relief. After John landed from his last jump, I came looking for him with an idea - let's take Mary to see Santa Claus! She had been talking about Santa Claus since the season began, and we had not had time to take her to the mall before leaving on our vacation. Why not take her to the Casa Grande Mall to see him? John thought it was it a great idea, so after dinner, we made the trip into Casa Grande to pay a visit to Old Saint Nick. The Casa Grande Mall, as we discovered, was not necessarily a mall. It was a collection of thrift and dollar stores…but it did have Santa Claus, and that was all that was important. Upon entering the mall, Mary immediately pointed him out. "Hi Santa!" she called out over and over again, waving to him excitedly. Before she could sit on his lap, though, Mary needed to be cleaned up. She was still wearing part of her dinner, and her hair was a flyaway mess. John took her into the restroom and quickly made her look more presentable; then, we stood in line and waited for our turn to see Santa Claus. The line was short, and in just a few minutes, it was Mary's turn…and wouldn't you know it? She didn't want to see Santa Claus anymore! It was okay seeing him from a distance, but the prospect of having to sit on his lap was a bit too much for that two-year-old to take! Suddenly, Mary was doing everything in her power to get away from Santa Claus; she even did a lovely back flip out of John's arms in an attempt to escape. Though Santa tried to comfort her with kind words, Mary refused to cooperate. During a lull in her tears, we managed to get a picture of all of us with Santa Claus; then, we made our escape… Once there was some distance between her and Santa, Mary was happy again, and as she walked away, she called out cheerfully, "Bye, Santa!" D'oh! The next morning, the 328 skydivers met in the hangar to begin their first attempt to break their own record. That morning, John's father - Bill - came to the drop zone to watch the attempts and make a jump or two, if he felt up to it. Soon after he arrived, Mary and I took him over to the hangar to see John. The jumpers were getting ready to board their planes when we arrived. In order to take all 328 skydivers to altitude, fifteen aircraft - fourteen Super Otters and one Skyvan - were needed. In case of a problem, the King Air was standing by to be used in place of the broken airplane. That was the case that morning when the Skyvan had some mechanical problems. One of the Otters was used in its place, and the King Air replaced that Otter. Bill, Mary and I went out to the runway to watch the fifteen aircraft take off - John wanted me to take video of it, so that he could see what it looked like. As soon as the first airplane took off, though, so did Mary. The noise of the engines proved to be too much for her. Frightened, she ran away from us and went to the first person who would pick her up: Janie Jicha (George's wife). Janie comforted her until the last airplane took off and I came looking for her. I took her back from Janie and thanked her to holding her. As we left the runway to make our way to the spectator area, Mary said bye-bye to Janie - she had made a new friend! As the three of us entered the spectator area, next to the main landing area, I was surprised to see how crowded it was there! I had spent most of the week either in the motor home, next to the alternate landing area, or in the hangar, and had not spent much time in the main landing area, so I was not aware just how many spectators had come to see the world record attempts. There were several hundred people there, all watching the skies, waiting for the first jump to begin and listening to the commentary as provided by one of the skydivers on a microphone. The first attempt built smoothly, but it did not complete before break-off. Despite their lack of success, they landed amidst the cheers of the spectators who were there to watch them. They were excited to be there, to see such a spectacular show. Unfortunately, the energy level among the skydivers was beginning to die down. Having already achieved what they had set out to do, they didn't seem to be as enthusiastic about "going bigger" as one would have thought. Although they gave it their all, we could tell that some of them were just tired, that they no longer had the same attitude that they had when they started this thing. After four unsuccessful attempts, it was time for the celebratory banquet, which was held at the Holiday Inn in Casa Grande. John and Mary and I arrived early so that we could get a good seat, and we were soon joined by the DeHeij family - Ruud, Sarah, Nathan, and Alex - which turned ours into a family table. Mary and Nathan played under the table all evening long, which kept them distracted long enough for us to listen to the speeches that were given. One of the speakers said something that sort of put the whole event into perspective for John: they were now a part of aviation history, among Chuck Yeager and the first freefall baton pass. Many years ago, skydivers did not think it possible to link up in freefall. Then, in 1958, two guys got an idea, to see if they could pass a baton in freefall. From then on, skydivers have continued to break records, building the first six-way in 1964, the first 100-way in 1986, the first 200-way over Myrtle Beach, in 1992, and a 282-way - the latest record, set in 1999 over Ubon, Thailand. Now, they had a new record, one that they will try to break again, in 2004 in Thailand. Each of the organizers spoke during the banquet, giving his thanks to all of the participants in the world record. They also officially released them from the event - there would not be any jumps made on Sunday. The world record attempt was over, and now it was time for all of us to go home. The next day, as the storm clouds rolled in over Eloy, bringing cold, winter-like weather to Arizona, John and Mary and I packed up the motor home and got ready to head back to Phoenix. Having had such a wonderful time, and having ended it on such a positive note, it almost seemed a shame that we had to go, but there were other adventures still waiting for us when we got home. Our adventures continue here.

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