The tale of William Rankin
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Five minutes after he abandoned the plane, his parachute hadn't opened. While in the upper regions of the thunderstorm, with near-zero visibility, the parachute opened. After ten minutes, Rankin was still aloft, carried by updrafts and getting hit by hailstones. Violent spinning and pounding caused him to vomit. Lightning appeared, which he described as blue blades several feet thick, and thunder that he could feel. The rain forced him to hold his breath to keep from drowning. One lightning bolt lit up the parachute, making Rankin believe he had died... Conditions calmed, and he descended into a forest.
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Also, if you can't arrange for Mother nature to do it for you:
About the dome: My parents built that in 1980. When the wind blew 100mph, as it does on the Pacific coast, it was completely silent; no whistles or moaning. The only sound you heard was raindrops hitting the windowpanes. Quiet as a Mercedes at 100mph.
The dome I lived in was not built to that standard—T-111 plywood siding and asphalt shingles—but it was the quietest, warmest (radiant floor heat) and cleanest (dust collects in corners, duh)—place I'd ever lived.