At the 1982 national parachuting championships, being held in Muskogee Oklahoma, I found myself on a hastily thrown-together 8-way team called
“Elmer and the Glue bags”.
The name has a story all its own but for now, all you need to know is the team was comprised of good friends from around the country. Having no practice jumps together before the meet we were mostly in it for fun. But as fate would have it we ended up finishing a close second behind a very practiced professional team out of southern California. The first-place team is automatically entitled to go to the world cup being held in Graz Austria that year. But because it was just a world cup that year they opted out which meant that the second-place team was eligible to go represent the US. Now, this was a fun thought but nobody on our team was really taking it seriously, or so I thought.
With the meet over I continued my journey in the Crystal Cruiser, an all-black 1964 Dodge panel van that I had bought from a friend for $500. I was heading Northwest hoping to end up in Montana to get lost in the wilderness for a month or two. Everyone else headed back across the country to their real lives. As I was making my way westbound I decided to stop in Boulder Colorado to visit an old friend for a few days and having just sold a parachute at the meet found myself with $900 to spend on camping equipment. A couple of days into my stay, while parked in front of my friend’s house, I got a call from Dan Obrien, one of the members of the team. How he found me I still don’t know. “We are all going to Austria for the world cup are you in? Everybody else has committed” Crap, I thought, if everybody else is going I guess I have to. “Ok, I said I’m in too”
Later I found out that Dan had used that same line on everybody to get them to go.
Fly to Chicago, you will meet up with Jeff and Tommy and fly into Lichenstein with them, from there a bunch of us will meet up and take a train to Graz. OK then. After loaning me a warm jacket for my journey my friend took me to the Denver airport and from there I flew into Chicago. Now I’m all about spontaneity but I didn’t have a passport and before I flew out of Denver I had about $900 to my name so I wasn’t really sure how this was going to work out but this is a time when you have to believe in the magic. Just believe that everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.
I flew into Ohare Jeff was waiting to pick me up and to fill me in on the plan, if you can call it that. The next day we were to go into Chicago to get our expedited passports. After all, we were representing the USofA in international competition. Like I said You gotta believe.
Early the next day we were dropped off in the middle of the city. We found our way to a big high-rise building where we were to get our passports that very day. Here we were these two longhaired guys dressed in our best overalls, pushing open the doors and strolling in like we knew what we were doing.
As we were riding up in the elevator I noticed Jeff had with him a big manila envelope his mother had sent to him. He looked over at me and casually asked if I had my birth certificate with me. “Yep,” I said looking up at the flashing numbers of floors as they counted up. “Where is it?” he said not convinced “In my pocket” “In your pocket? Let me see it” So I reached into my wallet and pulled out a small green laminated card that had all my particulars on one side and the state of Washington seal on the other. “You think that’s going to work? he asked not believing it would. I think so. I said as the fourth flour number lit up and the elevator doors slid open. I actually did know it would work because before I left Boulder I had gone to the post office to make sure I had all the right info, including the right size picture for a new passport. Because we were the US team we had a letter from the United States Parachute Association proclaiming that we were on our way to Graz Austria to represent the US at the World cup of Relative work. With this letter, and plane tickets showing us leaving the next day they would expedite our passports. We walked into a big room with rows of chairs to wait in. We grabbed a number and sat down with a dozen other folks already there waiting for their numbers to be called. It wasn’t long before a large black woman called our number and we sidled up to the counter. We slid the letter over to her so she could read how important these two long-haired guys, dressed in their finest, were. This must happen often cuz she didn’t seem impressed at all.
“Birth certificates and pictures Please” She commanded. I pulled out my card and put it on the counter. Jeff opened the big manila envelope and slid out this large document that had a bunch of official writing complete with a big sash in the corner similar to what someone might get had they just won first prize. And if that wasn’t enough it had the imprints of two baby feet at the bottom to prove he had feet. The lady glanced at his as he proudly pushed it across the counter to her. She then picked up my card with a quick glance at the front then set it down but then immediately picking it up again, flipped it over to see what was on the backside then placing it back down onto the counter. “This card will work but that won’t” gesturing toward Jeff’s big grandiose document. For just a second he turned toward me with this smug, “I knew yours wouldn’t work” look on his face that instantly deflated to disbelief his whole body saged as her words sunk in, “WHAT?!? as his head snapped back toward her. “That’s my birth certificate!” His voice was a little higher than normal. She shook her head. It was obvious she had heard this all before which was evident by her dry response, “Sorry that’s just a document of live birth, anyone can make those”.
Jeff’s next defiant response swayed her not ” But those are my feet,” he said forcefully as if that fact alone made the document more legal. Being his best friend and not able to pass up the moment I naturally came to his defense.
“Yeah Jeff, show her your feet!” I said in the same defiant tone.
“I’m sorry, the best I can do is give you a temporary passport that is only good for 30 days.” She said quickly moving on before Jeff could get his shoes off.
“Pictures please”. I pulled out the ones I had gotten in Boulder, sliding the cellophane enclosed pictures next to my card. Jeff pulled out a couple that he had and placed them on the table as he pushed his sash ornate document back into its manila envelope, his tiny feet disappearing in last. Once again she said” these will work” turning to Jeff once again looking him in the eye, ‘but these won’t, they are too big” “What!? That’s all I have, what am I supposed to use?” This journey to the big city was not working out for him at all. She pointed across the room toward the big picture window and said “There’s a place across the street that will do them for you right away. But bring them right back so we can get these processed for you today. So back down the elevator to the first floor, out the front doors, across the street to a photoshop that was conveniently positioned for just such a situation. Of course, we were told, if you want them fast it will cost more. These guys must have made a killing over the years from folks like us. We did end up getting our passports. Mine for 5 years and Jeffs for 30 days. From here our journey only got more interesting.