Getting on a Plane…Part 1
We had made the stupid move to surge housing. From our CHUs, which felt more and more like a real home everyday, to the big bare ‘blue room of depression’ (yes, that’s what everyone called it). We made it our new spot to squat though. Instantly blankets started going up around bunks to create a disillusioned that would only comfort someone who had been used to much worse…like and army soldier, right?
Off topic I learned that the Stars and Stripes paper people had done a research about torture and come to the conclusion that Basic Training was, in fact, torture. What doesn’t kill you right?
My mother would have been proud if she could have seen what I did while I was in Surge. I made a few sandbag hacky sacks along with one filled with beads for someone else. Now, normally sand from the sand box isn’t allowed to leave country (or theater, down range, over there, or whatever someone else besides to call it…it’s still Iraq) But I, being the smart ass I am, got into enough trouble as a child to know better that to believe that the military truly understands what they’re doing anyways, and asked a local AAFES (aafessucks.com) merchant if I could purchase some sand for a 5 cent pog. (anyone else remember pogs?) he printed the receipt while I walked out side, filled a small bag and then left. In a fashion not quite like Adams I’ll digress and just explain that the reason she’d be so damn proud is because Navy Customs (trust me, NOT fun) didn’t even give it a second look because it actually looked professional. I think my head’s getting bigger…
Just a few days before we’re all supposed to start getting ready to get ready to leave I gotted banned from the Motor Pool. Yep. I…got banned…from…the Motor Pool! Fucking absurd. To our knowledge, we were going to be working until the day we left (not everyone else, just us, no shit). After much convincing (bitching) we all got the right people to talk some sense into the right people and found out last minute that we would not be returning. That was fantastic! We finally had some time to do some last minute personal shit, like mailing things home…and of course, sleeping in! The important part here that I have neglected to mention, was that, we all left very shortly after hearing this news (10 min) and we all walked back to surge.
Next day…I got blamed for an 1151 that came up missing that was supposedly on the other side of the fob/cob/fucking base, which we found out was no more than 100 meters away from the motor pool…I walked…and they’re blind…way to look you fucks.
Shawn, got blamed for sabotaging a Gator. They didn’t under stand that; when you have any kind of vehicle, that doesn’t need a key, can can be easily driven away by…umm …anyone, you have to take measures to ensure that it will remain in the spot that you left it…or at least the same general area.
Donut, the poor guy, got blamed for…of all the fucking things to get blamed for…why it was such a big deal, I don’t know, taking a hard hat. Yes, a hard hat. One of those cheap looking plastic things that usually sit on someones head because, as we all should know by now, they’re stylish and the next big fad…
Kayla didn’t get blamed for doing or taking anything. We decided that this was because she was too broke to do or take anything.
That’s the end of this post…anyone notice how it has nothing to do with the plane yet?
Yes, I noticed. It’s more that things are missing, broken and you’re ticked off. You want to be home with us. We’re more exciting and we don’t try to kill you. We’d more hug you till the end of time. Can’t wait to see you again. Elly even offered to bring you some Omaha Steaks. You’d probably like that. She works there. What kind do you like?