Fate, stop being such a bitch

Fate and I are in a fight. When She shows me signs, I usually try to be respectful and pay attention. Most of the time I trust Her, whole-heartedly, without question. But now I'm just pissed.

Yesterday, I got grounded for the third time while trying to skydive. The first time (18th birthday), we didn't even make it into the suits before storm clouds appeared. The second time, we were harnessed and ready to go, and then the wind picked up and shut operations down. I realized maybe the greater cosmos was working in my favor and that skydiving just wasn't in the cards for me...

...until this weekend, when I planned out a surprise skydiving trip for Brian's birthday. I told Fate I was just working late at the office. Silly me...as if She's that naive.

We woke up early, snacked on the way, and drove through the country for an hour before arriving at a rural detour auspiciously marked Texas Skydiving Center. I ignored that nagging feeling that Fate was hot on my trail, reading my text messages and snooping through my e-mail.

I started to wonder if She had tracked me down when:

1) A 14-year-old handed us the sign-your-life-away form and then her 18-year-old cohort told us to go wait in the pavilion. No other instructions. Just go wait to jump.

2) Moments later, the head honcho (if a head honcho is allowed to wear burnt orange sweatpants gathered at the ankle) caught up with us and asked us to come watch a short safety video. Yeah, I guess that would help, wouldn't it?

3) The video featured Father Time, with his three-foot-long beard, telling us how not to die. And that if we did die, our loved ones should go ahead and not sue this place.

4) There was a rooster on the doorstep.

5) Head Honcho was toting one of those gallon jugs that you only see at Texarkana gas stations. G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S.

6) Three donkeys wandered up and parked it in the drop zone. And no one seemed weirded out.

7) Finally, the clientele. I won't expound, other than to say we were the preppiest crackers there.

By the time the jumpmaster walked out to the Cessna with a wind gauge in hand, that was the last straw for me. 25 m.p.h. winds had come out of nowhere to blow us all back home. Oh hello Fate. I...uh...well...okay I'm sorry. I lied. I know you're smarter than that. It's just that sometimes I need a little freedom and you're always on my ass!

So lesson learned. When Fate gives you the finger for the third time, maybe you shouldn't try to take matters into your own hands. I doubt my skydiving attempts are totally over, but I know I'm tired of fighting for now. Hell knows no fury like a woman scorned, right?