Who are the Rodriguez Brothers?!? F##k the Rodriguez Brothers!

I am sitting here shaking my head on this one.  I am smiling.  And I am picturing Bobby who giggled when I did his body shot.  It’s business as usual at the hanger.

Who ARE the Rodriguez Brothers?  ((proper response)) FUCK the Rodriguez Brothers!!  The Rodriguez Brothers are a private group of skydivers who must go through an intricate initiation and perform ritualistic dancing before they are accepted into the clan.  They are given a new name and presented to the family on the altar while giving a sacrificial shot of liquor, served from the body.  Oh, Jose Cuervo, you are a friend of mine.

Let me introduce myself, I am Manifesto Putana Rodriguez, one of the newest members of the Robert Newlon Clan of the Rodriguez Brothers.  My bastard father is BAMMIT Rodriguez and his bastard father (and the true bastard father of us all) is Crustee Rodriguez.  The lineage can be traced back through the boogies, back through the ages.  Funny thing is, I have been a Rodriguez since 2001, just not THAT kind of Rodriguez.

The day of skydiving came to a close on Sunday and the heat sent everyone scattering for showers and cleaning up before the crazy party began.  I was too tired to do my hair and the humidity said, “hey hair, nice to meet you” at which point my hair stood right up to say “hey” right back, as is evident in this picture:

Rocky makes this great concoction of limeaid and Corona which is just awesome when the day is hot and never seems to end.  I had two of those before the night even got into full swing.  The second of those I drank while I showered.  I stood in the shower, left elbow propped up on the wall as the cold, cold water streamed down my back, head tilted forward to fully enjoy the refreshing chill of the water and I sipped the Lime-Beer with the other hand.  I am sure the “ahhhhhh” could be heard clear to the hanger.  🙂

I got back to the hanger and had a grumbling with my sky brother but once that was out of the way, the party kicked into full tilt.  I started off with a shot of Patron.  Only thing was, there was nothing for me to chase it with.  So I used a marshmallow.  Yep, a big ball of sugary goodness and I chased my shot (wait, Anthony poured it, so it was actually a triple) with it.  Then there was another shot, a Platinum beer, a regular beer… ((fuzzy wuzzy wuz a bear))  I found a bottle of Jose with just enough in the bottom for two shots, offered a shot to Bobby (who drank it all) and I laughed.  There may have been the comment of : “Take me home or loose me forever!” and some dancing involved.  ((still sitting here shaking my head and smiling))

In the middle of it Bobby and I started talking about my jumps from the previous day.  Bobby is the “main guy” – the one responsible for all of us, who let’s us do what it is we love to do.  I said to him, I know I am not that great at it but I love it.  He stopped me there and told me that as long as I was having fun and staying safe it was all good.  There is no need to rush it, just enjoy it as it happens… This is coming from the man who had something like 700 jumps before getting (I believe it was) his Class D license.  When questioned on it at either another DZ or some boogie, he said, what’s the point, I can jump with this license.  The point of my referring to that is this – when you get him talking about skydiving, it is infectious.  He jumps for the love of jumping – not to outdo a record or to prove a point or to get a higher classification of license.  He just loves it, loves pushing the boundaries.  I was still pumped from my second jump of the previous day and he was enthusiastic for me.  Kinda like Chase is a kind of “cheerleader” who has given me some confidence when asking me how my jumps go – Bobby is kind of the level headed guy that when I am in a panic attack over trying to count the till at the end of the day or apologizing to him directly for landing on the runway – he always smiles, shakes his head and tells me it will be just fine.

I was having an amazingly wonderful time…that was right before my switch was flipped.  You see, I feel that a person’s ball cap is a personal article of clothing that should not be shared with a complete stranger, kinda like panties.  Hell, I would not share my Sox hat with a family member.  That hat has my sweat in it, makes direct contact with the skin of my forehead and should not be violated by some random guy.  Yet, when I looked up all tequila-fied, I see this guy, who I do not know, walking across the hanger toward me with MY Sox hat on.  I may have yelled a lot at him.  I may have informed him that my best friend in the whole (fucking) wide world gave that to me and he had no right having it on his head.  I know I told him (as was confirmed by Bobby) that “unless you jump out of a plane with me or pay me to allow you to jump out of a plane with one of my brothers, take my fucking hat off!”…  Yeah, Jose – you weren’t a friend of HIS.  He hands me my hat and mumbles something along the lines of “once you get to know me maybe you would be ok with me wearing it, I LOOOVVEEE Boston.”  I could quite possibly have told him to fuck off, that shit won’t ever happen, hold your breath.  Sigh.  Yeah, I’m mean.  Get over it.

Then the megaphone kicked on beckoning us to come to the altar for the ritual initiation……..

So, there I was, laying on an altar fashioned from a picnic table, a huge shot of tequila balancing precariously in my cleavage…  My bastard father BAMMIT went in for the shot, sploosh!  Tequila went down my neck and into my ears.  I am pretty sure that never in my life have I ever had tequila in my ears…  No problem, no problem.  Try it again.  Once again the shot filled my ears up!  Me laughing the whole while.  I did my ritualistic dance and when asked who presented this person to the clan, BAMMIT announce he did and presented me as Manifesto Putana Rodriguez – it fits, I AM the Manifest Bitch after all.

Bobby was initiated into the clan as well.  Being the only girl-brother there, I was the one who offered him up.  I was in charge of his sacrificial offering of a shot from the body – for which he giggled.  And when presented to Crustee to be named, I blurted out “Pedro”.  ((again, shaking my head and smiling here)).  Pedro (dirty middle name to be determined by Crustee at a later date) Rodriguez!  Andy has been after Bobby to become a Rodriguez for a long, long time.  I was very honored that we both were offered up together.

I believe that Bobby ended up in the grass contemplating the expansive universe up there in the sky – Rocky made sure he made it to his camper.  I headed to Big Blue, sat on the end of the cot after dropping drawers and at 5am on Memorial Day Monday (weekday alarm goes off) – I sit straight up, feet still planted firmly on the ground – could not feel my legs for the life of me!!  I pulled my numb extremities onto the cot and proceeded to re-passout.  OMG I felt like reheated dirty ass the next morning.  Short day, few jumps, none by me.

What an amazing time that was had!  Too bad Bobby doesn’t remember it….  🙂

Come on out to the hanger and get your jump on, I promise you will thank me afterward.

Ciao!

I will sign off with a handful of pictures from the weekend, it was a blast and these made me smile when I went back through to edit…. Enjoy!

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