From The Mag

Reader Question: Biggest Ego You’ve Encountered?

It’s reader question time!

This month our question is a little sensitive and we don’t want to encourage cruelty or gossip but we still wonder, do you have any stories about huge egos in jumping? You can answer anonymously and you don’t even need to name names. What’s the best giant-ego story you have in your time in the sky? Or maybe you have a mea culpa about that time your ego got a little out of control?

PD New Beginning

Responses will be printed in our March 2014 issue; they may be edited for clarity, space or grammar, and will be signed as the name you submit here. You can also email them to me,


  • The organizers of a “local” boogie, super money driven… With all organizers and sponsors swearing each year that they will not return, and still go back and back and back. Never ever ever I will give them 1 cent.

  • One time this one guy was all like ahhh yeaah Im good at everything, and I was all like o yea then why cant you ever show up to dinner early I know yo wife is working til 7 errnight so why cant you not have yo ego qnd show a little tlc towards me every so often. Im carryin yo baby and not even sayin nothin to nobody about ot not even my sister yolanda and you know shes been snoopin around. So stop being a giant dickwad and start holding yo dinner promises o I aint keepin my mouth shut any longer ya heard!!!!!!

  • This is a general one, not about a specific person. I worked as an organizer at a pretty large DZ for quite a few years. If someone that nobody knew came up and wanted to join the group, we obviously needed to find out if they were qualified to be on the jump. I would nicely ask a few questions. The first one usually being something to the effect of “How many jumps do you have”. Most people understood why I was asking but every once in a while I would get responses like “Enough” or “More than you I’m sure”. Talk about ego. If you have that many jumps, you should be smart enough to understand why I am asking the question. Sometimes I would respond with “well in that case you are probably too good for this group”

  • Several years ago, a regular big-way skygod, who some of us affectionately refer to as “SkyGuido,” spent somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 minutes and forever talking about himself: his skydiving prowess, his adventures, his conquests, his cocktail preference (which I’m quite certain was a less-than-subtle hint that I should immediately knock people out of my way to retrieve one for him). All the while, methodically combing his hair and flexing his biceps (ah, can’t you just picture it?). After this enlightening torrent, he paused for the briefest moment, allowing me the opportunity to say, “Well, enough about me. What’s going on with you?” The memory of the look on his face still makes me smile to this day.

  • Tunnel rats with 200 jumps that expect to be paid and treated like royalty to “organize” at boogies. “WHAT??? You’re not covering my air fare?”

    Yes, YOU.

    I know, I know, I don’t understand “the future of skydiving”.

  • The biggest ego I ever encountered was actually a packer! I was at Zephyrhills Xmas boogie, helping a newbie find a place to pack, walked into one of the fun jumper hangars (not Nylon City, mind you) and asked an old lady (who was closing a rig) it’d be ok to pack there. She grumbled something in british like “we’re really busy” so I kept on walking, then she snapped “Actually, why don’t you get off MY WORKSPACE and drink your beeya somewhere else!” in the nastiest tone. Totally caught off guard I graciously said “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be in your way, I didn’t realize this area is yours” and she yelled “Well I ALREADY TOLD YOU!” lesson learned: beware of postmenopausal packers at sunset, they’re like rabid dogs.

  • The biggest ego I ever encountered was at the World Freefall Convention. He was a tall lanky prick that had the distinct look of a recovering drug addict. It was after a long day of hard jumping and we were enjoying the evenings entertainment. I believe there was some form of supersonic aircraft buzzing the entertainment tents that night. I had my trusty PC7 out videotaping the debauchery when someone started screaming at me. Now keep in mind I am in a densely packed end equally drunk crowd here. All I hear is “you fucking ruined my shot, you fucking piece of shit. At this point I was a bit confused by this apparent junky yelling in my face. Then I hear it, “Do you know who I am” to which I reply, no and I don’t really care. He proceeds to tell me not his name, but rather that “I (he) works for Tom Fucking Sanders, and you just ruined my fucking shot with that cheap ass piece of shit camera”. Apparently I must have held my camera up a little too high for his liking. Needless to say I was a little dumbfounded by the stunning level of douchebaggery I was witnessing while at the same time feeling really bad for Tom Sanders for having such an offensive middle name. All I could think to say was; “my camera is not a piece of shit!” He just looked at me and walked away. So I would like to apologize to everyone at the convention that year for destroying what I am sure was going to be a life changing and award winning shot by the Martin Scorsese of crackhead Boogie videographers.

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