We were a week or so into basic.
We were "pickled"- meaning we had been handed our green uniforms (now they wear BDUs- which are camouflage- so I don't know if they are called pickles anymore).
Our name tags were on order and we would pick up our Dress Blues later. Basic was getting easier but there was still one thing on our weighing heavily on our minds- Taking a dump.
Yeah. I said it.
You see- we had been warned early in the program that when you experience a drastic change in your lifestyle, Like basic training, sometimes this messes with your biological clock. So it is not unusual for a person to have severe constipation.
Sometimes, an airman would get so backed up that they would actually get sick from it.
So a lot of us were looking for that first bowel movement and already at a week and a half in- many of us had not had it yet- including myself. It was a little amazing because we were eating and drinking big meals, 3 times a day.
Other than that- I thought I was doing pretty well.
I had gotten the meal routine down and had managed to stay under the radar, like Gary suggested.
Then one night just before lights out, Dillard, our Dorm Chief, got my attention with a "Pssssst" and motioned me over into the Day Room.
Dillard was an interesting character. He was this tall, olive skinned man whose chiseled face prominently displayed his Native American heritage.
Apparently, he came from a family with some money, too as he had been a professional model and his family owned "Dillards" the department store. He didn't need to be here in the military but there he was.
I remember how he volunteered to be the Dorm Chief that first day we were there. I thought he was a sucker for doing it because he was just ASKING for trouble being the leader of our flight. There were four Squad leader positions beneath him that had to be filled- no one volunteered for those- the T.I. just pulled them out due to the size of a person. I had managed to make myself unnoticeable during the selection by using the Jedi Mind Trick-
Okay, maybe not but I WAS lucky enough not to be picked.
"Pssst" Dillard beckoned.
I walked over to him in the dark- from his expression, I knew that this was serious.
"A couple of things I want to tell you. First off' I found these." He dangled a set of keys in front of me.
"What are THOSE?"
"These are the keys to the closet with all our civilian stuff in it!"
"WHAT!?" I said in a whispered yell.
"Yeah, I found them in the Sgt. Jone's office desk-"
See. Sgt. Jones, our T.I., didn't stay with us- the T.I.s went home after about 6 or 7pm. We were to clean ourselves up at the end of the day and get set for the next day- which meant laying out your uniform on a chair next to your bed in the PRECISE way that was lined out in your basic training manual (your uniform had to be ironed and your shoes shined, of course) and your locker also had to be organized correctly (also in the manual).
Sometime before you woke up (like 4am)- T.I.s would creep through and inspect your displays and lockers with a flashlight. If your shit was wrong you would lose the 341* that you conveniently had to place on top of your clothes.
So anyway- it was after the T.I. left that Dillard had gone into his office at the center of the dorm and found the keys.
"We are going to have to figure out how we are going to use these because I definitely want to read the books I brought." he told me.
"WE?" I said. What did I have to do with this? I'm just a nondescript airman trying to get to his second week of basic. And while I WANT to get into that closet- why am I involved in helping the Dorm Chief figure out how to do it?
"That's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about." Dillard said, "Were you in R.O.T.C?"
My face dropped. My eyes bulged. I was in total shock.
"How- How do you know that!? You can't tell anybody about that."
"Sgt. Jones told me."
"How'd HE know that!?" This was worse than I thought.
"I don't know but he told me he is going to make you a Squad Leader tomorrow."
Way worse.
"He said that your R.O.T.C. experience could help a squad come along real fast."
"SHIT! I don't want to be a squad leader!"
"Well, he told me it's going to happen, so I thought I'd give you a heads up."
Dillard raised the keys as he began to move away from me "We gotta figure out what we should do with these." and with that he left me standing in the dark Day Room.
I was pondering the future- Gary's warning about laying low was ringing in my head.
Keeping a low profile would be impossible standing at the front of a squad and being responsible for how they set their displays at night- FUCK!
I could see it now- I was going to lose a book of 341s trying to lead a squad of airmen.
Basic Training just got really hard.
Then, I convinced myself that somehow I would prove I was a fuck up so he COULDN'T promote me to squad leader but I didn't know exactly HOW I would do it. I knew that I was going to get out of this promotion, though. No DOUBT!
That night, I tossed the problem around my head over and over with very little sleep.
The next morning came waaaay too fast and many of our flight woke up to find the 341 on their displays missing. It was going to be a long day.
We formed up downstairs so we could march out to our morning exercises.
We had barely gotten into formation when Sgt. Jones mentioned how shitty we had done on our displays.
Then he turned to the second squad leader- a blond dude named Harris who was not much older than me- I was the youngest in the flight at 18.
"Harris! You look like a pussy. Are you a pussy, son?"
"Sir, No sir."
"Well I say you ARE a pussy!"
"Sir, No sir!"
"Are you calling me a liar, son!"
"Sir, No sir!"
"-And I think I detect a smile on your goddamn face, Airman Harris! Do you find the fact that I think you're a pussy, FUNNY!?"
"Sir, No sir!"
"Well, I think you DO, Harris. YOUR FIRED! We're gonna get us a new Squad Leader up here- GORDEN! Front and center!"
I was so surprised at how fast things were happening that I forgot my plan to fuck up and stepped up in perfect military fashion. I messed up a PERFECT opportunity to be a dumb ass.
"Airman Gorden reporting as ordered, SIR!"
"You're the new Squad Leader."
There was a shuffle because I was taller than the guy who was leader of 2ND squad so he became the new 3rd Squad Leader and I became 2ND Squad leader.
And that was that. We marched out to exercises with me leading the 2ND squad.
Dammit.
Later that day we were headed to the Day Room for our afternoon meeting.
Davis came in from the bathroom area with a smile on his face and his index fingers spread wide indicating the length of the beast he had just created.
"I did it! I finally did it!"
The two or three of us that heard him celebrated with high-fives and light laughter.
"Hold it down, you all- hold it down." Sgt. Blake said. She was the assistant T.I. to Sgt. Jones. A small framed black woman who would say the word "Furnt" in place of the word "Front"- as in "Airmen, align yourselves to the furnt!"
She and Sgt. Jones began to ream us royal over how shitty our displays were the night before and they told us they expected a different story tomorrow morning or there would be hell to pay. They broke the day early to allow us time to get our shit together.
So we split up into our Squads and for the first time I was alone with the five or six dudes that were under me.
I gathered the guys and broke the work up into tasks and asked who knew how to do what. Most of us were familiar with shoe shinning, I had ironing skills so me and this one Asian guy got together on that- we did the folding too. The other two guys went through and made sure that the lockers had everything where they were supposed to be- you know?
Like making sure all the hangars where evenly spaced. That the shaving cream and the tooth paste was closed with the tops clean. That the underwear was folded and placed correctly in the locker.
We were actually having a good time with it. Telling jokes and busying our hands.
It took us a while but we got it all together and put away.
Right after "lights out"- I crept out of bed and double checked all my squads displays before finally laying down- I slept hard that night.
Next thing you know- Taps was playing and we were at it again.
Sgt. Blake broke the bad news in the morning meeting.
"It's not that difficult Airmen!- You have a manual that TELLS you what your displays are supposed to look like and yet you failed! The only improvement in this dorm goes to second squad who didn't have any three-forty ones pulled."
At this my squad, who had chosen to sit near me began whispering "Yes!" and high-fiving one another.
"I suggest you figure out what second squad did and DO IT!", she continued.
Later that day, when it was time to get our displays together- I was asked what we did and other squad leaders broke their squads up into groups to where a group of us were shining shoes- another ironing and yet another checking lockers. So if you were good at something- that's what you did. People who couldn't iron worth a damn got their clothes ironed my someone with some skill in trade for shining their shoes- etc.
It was that night that Dillard decided to bust out the keys. Since we all kinda had assignments as to what we were to do- we might as well have our Walkmans on while we worked.
The 4 Squad leaders and Dillard explained the situation to the flight-
We would have to work diligently-
We would have to round up everything and put it back in the closet at the end of the night-
And of course no one could say SHIT about having our books and Walkmans out- EVER!
So that's how we rolled- listening to music- and dividing up the chores and knocking them out.
I told the Airmen in our Bay-
(the Flight is composed of two areas called "Bays". Each bay consists of two squads. Squads 1 and 2 slept in "A" Bay and Squads 3 and 4 slept in "B" Bay.)
So- I told the Airmen in A Bay that I had crept out of bed right after lights out to double check displays. A couple of airmen asked me if I would look at their lockers too. Which I did.
The following inspection we did much better. This time Blake had a lot of praise for us especially "A" Bay for only losing a couple of 341s.
When we were released to our dorms at lunch a member of the crew started rapping- "We're
A BAY! There is none higher! Oughta take B Bay and set 'em on fire!"
And a tiny rivalry was born. All the other squad leaders were double checking lockers after lights out as well as some other volunteers and that is how we rolled on inspection for the rest of basic.
We did however get lax with putting the books and the Walkmans away at the end of the night because we had figured out places to hide them in our personal areas- such as under the mattress.
This lax behaviour would catch up to us eventually.
3.14.2009
Moment 408: The Mess Hall
Like everything else in basic training- eating came with a policy that had to be adhered to or you would find yourself staring down the esophagus of some T.I. as he berated your ignorance.
The rules were fairly simple:
1. You must keep military bearing at all times when in the cafeteria.
This meant that you had to "march" to and from the table. That is to say you made "pivots" instead of just turning in one direction or another.
You kept your hands in a fist at your sides and you certainly did not stop to jibber jabber at someone else's table.
2. You must stand at attention at your table until all four seats are filled- then the last person there will say "be seated" at which time you may all sit and eat.
Um...yeah- that pretty much explains itself.
3. Each flight will have 10 minutes after the last of it's members sits down to finish their food- then the T.I. will dismiss the flight from the meal and they will get into formation outside the cafeteria and march back to their dorms.
So- this meant that if you were in the last squad of your flight- you were doing some SERIOUS eating and FAST. Each meal they would rotate which squad went in last so it wasn't always the same dudes rushing through meals.
4. You MUST drink 8 glasses of water a day.
If you went to your table and you didn't have at least one glass of water on your tray- you might get your ass handed to you. This rule was to keep you from passing out in the Texas sun from being marched too hard without enough H2O in your system. A very reasonable request- if you disobeyed this one you heard about it pretty quick.
5. DO NOT ATTRACT ATTENTION TO YOURSELF.
Okay- this wasn’t an official rule- this was just something you did- ALL THE TIME- especially in the cafeteria- because having one T.I. jump on you for not pulling a pivot the right way as you went to your seat was like having a paper cut in a pool of sharks- it isn’t long before they are all feeding on you.
So that said-
Here is a loose mock up of how the cafeteria was set up (at least how I remember it).
We would get our main food in a line (much like Luby's) that was in an area separate from this one. You would have a choice of a couple of main dishes. Then you would come into this room to actually eat.
We would enter through the "IN" doors at the bottom of the drawing.
The HUGE "Salad Bar" table had more than just salads- often it had the sides to your meal but most importantly it had the DRINKS and the WATER that you so desperately needed to get you through the Texas heat.
At the top of the room you'll see "The Snake Pit". That was the area where the T.I.s sat to eat.
Directly in front of them was where the condiments were. So, in order to get ketchup or mayo or mustard- you would have to march and stand DIRECTLY IN FRONT of the Snake Pit. Anyone going for condiments was BEGGING to get picked on my the T.I.'s and they did it OFTEN- sometimes they would even make airmen answer military questions or even sing them songs or do imitations- I'm not kidding.
Also there was an icebox filled with all kinds of goodies in each corner. That thing had Ice Cream sandwiches, Bomb Pops (red, white and blue as well as the banana/fudge variety), Orange Creams, Drumsticks- you name it!
Now, you will also note that there is a shit-load of open space between the Snake Pit and the icebox. Anyone headed to that icebox is an open target for any T.I. sitting in the Pit looking for something to yell at.
One thing I have to say is that the food was always GOOD and there was plenty of it. In fact, the whole of my Air Force career- they always gave me good food. Much better than other wings of the military.
Okay-
So very early into our first weekend there we were trying to get all these rules to the cafeteria down.
Some of us didn’t know how to march so bad pivots were being made and T.I.s were stopping people and yelling at them.
This person would then crack under pressure and forget to say “sir” because they’d only been in the military for 48 hrs and MORE T.I.’s would start yelling at them- next thing you know, they’ve spent their whole mealtime getting yelled at.
I remember sitting at the table with three other guys- we had done everything right-
We'd hit the salad bar- gotten our water and other drinks-
We correctly filled in the next available spot at the next available table and waited at attention for it to be filled then we sat.
We ate in extreme observance of rule number 5- well, at least as much as we could be because we were still “rainbows”- meaning we didn’t have uniforms- we were all in civilian clothes and stood out painfully everywhere we went on base as new recruits that needed to be broken into the military way of life-
especially in the cafeteria.
Still, at the table- we spoke in hushed whispers as we shoveled food into our mouths with our heads down.
Eyeballing those less fortunate than us as we tried to figure out the lay of the land-
Michaels: Damn, I want some ketchup on my fries.
Davis: (pointing to the Snake Pit) It’s over there-
Me: Fuck that- I’ll be eating dry fries for a while, ya’ll.
Michaels: Yeah, me too. Damn it.
Just then, Nelson- the dude who had the condom before- was sitting at his table when he realized they were out of napkins. Not thinking anything of it- he reached over from his table to the next to his for a napkin.
This was a HUGE mistake.
The first T.I. was on him so fast that I don’t even think his legs were moving. It was like he slid across the room right up to Nelson’s ear.
“Where the hell do you think you are, airman!? McDonalds!? –Stand up! Stand up right now!”
Nelson stood- he was kind of laughing at how stupid he had been or maybe the McDonalds line got him- the T.I. didn’t like that and yelled at him harder.
Nelson started to get upset- his stance became aggressive- he was from some gangs up north and getting yelled at over a meal was unacceptable.
He said something back to the T.I. that I can’t remember- before you know it- 2 more T.I.’s were on him. He was catching three mouthfuls of shit for the rest of the meal and they only stopped because our flight was dismissed from the cafeteria.
It was a big lesson for our flight- we knew that a screw up at mealtime was costly- especially if you lost a 341* for doing something stupid in the damn cafeteria.
About a week in (remember we had been getting 3 meals a day in this circus) when I was a pickle- I finally got the nerve to go to the condiments bar.
I had heard stories of people being asked to do Elvis imitations- I had seen many an airman on their way to the condiments table only to be stopped short because they had made a wrong move or took too long to get to the table as they were focusing on their marching movements.
What drove ME to finally get up was: fried fish.
While I could eat dry fries all day long- I couldn’t STAND to have dry fish- and there was ketchup AND tartar sauce sitting right on that table at the front of the room mocking me- daring me to come and get it.
Me: I’m gonna get me some tartar sauce.
Michaels: You’re crazy.
Was I? - I wasn’t worried about my marching- the one thing I kicked ass at in AR-OH was marching- that was cake- I just needed a little luck not to get noticed.
I waited ‘til I saw some other airmen head in that direction and I stood up.
I feigned confidence with each step and each pivot was like a dance move. As I got to the table and turned my back to the T.I.’s, I quickly scanned the table for the items I was interested in- ketchup and tartar sauce.
Other airmen- they were jarred pickles- meaning their green uniforms had their names on them- were doing the same.
I noticed that there were lemons there- salt, pepper- all kinds of wonderments- but I was taking too long-
“AIRMAN!” One of the T.I.’s shouted-
I didn’t turn around- I didn’t move.
“AIRMAN!”
An airman next to me turned-
“Come here and tell me about the chain of command Airman- STEVENS.” He said reading his name tag.
Stevens had fallen for it- The T.I. was just waiting for one of us to turn around so he could fuck with us.
I took what I had in my hand and cut back to the table with a precision that would have made any drill instructor proud. That day I had tartar sauce and all was well.
About a week and a half later it was Michaels who would risk it-
“I’m going to get a dessert.” He whispered.
“Are you fucking CRAZY?”- I asked with a hushed yell full of envy because I had dreamed so much about the ice cream in that box.
“I haven’t had dessert in two weeks! I’m going crazy- I’m going for it.”
“Bring me back one, too!” Davis said-
“Fuck you! I’m not gonna get called out because I’m holding TWO ice creams in my hands.”
He had a point.
He stood and began the long trek to the icebox in the corner of the room. We watched him with great anticipation as we continued to slowly shovel food in our mouths.
In what seemed like hours he made it to the icebox.
Michaels opened the top and pulled out a Bomb Pop in one move.
He spun on his heels and began his march back to the table- he had a smile on his face- and then it happened.
“Airman Michaels!”
It was our T.I.
“Sir, Yes sir!”
“Getting a little dessert this evening?”
“Sir, Yes sir!”
“Good for you. Carry on.”
“Sir, Yes sir!”
Michaels got to the table with a huge grin and began to eat the Bomb Pop like he’d been in the Sahara for weeks and this was his first meal. He got halfway through it before they dismissed our flight. Michaels took two huge bites as he stood and we all ran out to formation.
From then on I had the fortitude to go to any of the tables and I only got called to the Snake Pit once, where I was asked about where I was from (which was right there in San Antonio) and what I was going to do on our free day off base- sexual exploits were alluded to- (They thought I was going to go to some woman’s house and get shagged the entire day) then I was allowed to go back to my table.
In time- we learned to relax in that mess hall- even as we saw other rainbows get shattered. When I look back on it- it's kinda funny- but when I was in it- It was fucked up- MAJORLY.
*don't worry- I will describe what a 341 is in a post very soon.
The rules were fairly simple:
1. You must keep military bearing at all times when in the cafeteria.
This meant that you had to "march" to and from the table. That is to say you made "pivots" instead of just turning in one direction or another.
You kept your hands in a fist at your sides and you certainly did not stop to jibber jabber at someone else's table.
2. You must stand at attention at your table until all four seats are filled- then the last person there will say "be seated" at which time you may all sit and eat.
Um...yeah- that pretty much explains itself.
3. Each flight will have 10 minutes after the last of it's members sits down to finish their food- then the T.I. will dismiss the flight from the meal and they will get into formation outside the cafeteria and march back to their dorms.
So- this meant that if you were in the last squad of your flight- you were doing some SERIOUS eating and FAST. Each meal they would rotate which squad went in last so it wasn't always the same dudes rushing through meals.
4. You MUST drink 8 glasses of water a day.
If you went to your table and you didn't have at least one glass of water on your tray- you might get your ass handed to you. This rule was to keep you from passing out in the Texas sun from being marched too hard without enough H2O in your system. A very reasonable request- if you disobeyed this one you heard about it pretty quick.
5. DO NOT ATTRACT ATTENTION TO YOURSELF.
Okay- this wasn’t an official rule- this was just something you did- ALL THE TIME- especially in the cafeteria- because having one T.I. jump on you for not pulling a pivot the right way as you went to your seat was like having a paper cut in a pool of sharks- it isn’t long before they are all feeding on you.
So that said-
Here is a loose mock up of how the cafeteria was set up (at least how I remember it).
We would get our main food in a line (much like Luby's) that was in an area separate from this one. You would have a choice of a couple of main dishes. Then you would come into this room to actually eat.
We would enter through the "IN" doors at the bottom of the drawing.
The HUGE "Salad Bar" table had more than just salads- often it had the sides to your meal but most importantly it had the DRINKS and the WATER that you so desperately needed to get you through the Texas heat.
At the top of the room you'll see "The Snake Pit". That was the area where the T.I.s sat to eat.
Directly in front of them was where the condiments were. So, in order to get ketchup or mayo or mustard- you would have to march and stand DIRECTLY IN FRONT of the Snake Pit. Anyone going for condiments was BEGGING to get picked on my the T.I.'s and they did it OFTEN- sometimes they would even make airmen answer military questions or even sing them songs or do imitations- I'm not kidding.
Also there was an icebox filled with all kinds of goodies in each corner. That thing had Ice Cream sandwiches, Bomb Pops (red, white and blue as well as the banana/fudge variety), Orange Creams, Drumsticks- you name it!
Now, you will also note that there is a shit-load of open space between the Snake Pit and the icebox. Anyone headed to that icebox is an open target for any T.I. sitting in the Pit looking for something to yell at.
One thing I have to say is that the food was always GOOD and there was plenty of it. In fact, the whole of my Air Force career- they always gave me good food. Much better than other wings of the military.
Okay-
So very early into our first weekend there we were trying to get all these rules to the cafeteria down.
Some of us didn’t know how to march so bad pivots were being made and T.I.s were stopping people and yelling at them.
This person would then crack under pressure and forget to say “sir” because they’d only been in the military for 48 hrs and MORE T.I.’s would start yelling at them- next thing you know, they’ve spent their whole mealtime getting yelled at.
I remember sitting at the table with three other guys- we had done everything right-
We'd hit the salad bar- gotten our water and other drinks-
We correctly filled in the next available spot at the next available table and waited at attention for it to be filled then we sat.
We ate in extreme observance of rule number 5- well, at least as much as we could be because we were still “rainbows”- meaning we didn’t have uniforms- we were all in civilian clothes and stood out painfully everywhere we went on base as new recruits that needed to be broken into the military way of life-
especially in the cafeteria.
Still, at the table- we spoke in hushed whispers as we shoveled food into our mouths with our heads down.
Eyeballing those less fortunate than us as we tried to figure out the lay of the land-
Michaels: Damn, I want some ketchup on my fries.
Davis: (pointing to the Snake Pit) It’s over there-
Me: Fuck that- I’ll be eating dry fries for a while, ya’ll.
Michaels: Yeah, me too. Damn it.
Just then, Nelson- the dude who had the condom before- was sitting at his table when he realized they were out of napkins. Not thinking anything of it- he reached over from his table to the next to his for a napkin.
This was a HUGE mistake.
The first T.I. was on him so fast that I don’t even think his legs were moving. It was like he slid across the room right up to Nelson’s ear.
“Where the hell do you think you are, airman!? McDonalds!? –Stand up! Stand up right now!”
Nelson stood- he was kind of laughing at how stupid he had been or maybe the McDonalds line got him- the T.I. didn’t like that and yelled at him harder.
Nelson started to get upset- his stance became aggressive- he was from some gangs up north and getting yelled at over a meal was unacceptable.
He said something back to the T.I. that I can’t remember- before you know it- 2 more T.I.’s were on him. He was catching three mouthfuls of shit for the rest of the meal and they only stopped because our flight was dismissed from the cafeteria.
It was a big lesson for our flight- we knew that a screw up at mealtime was costly- especially if you lost a 341* for doing something stupid in the damn cafeteria.
About a week in (remember we had been getting 3 meals a day in this circus) when I was a pickle- I finally got the nerve to go to the condiments bar.
I had heard stories of people being asked to do Elvis imitations- I had seen many an airman on their way to the condiments table only to be stopped short because they had made a wrong move or took too long to get to the table as they were focusing on their marching movements.
What drove ME to finally get up was: fried fish.
While I could eat dry fries all day long- I couldn’t STAND to have dry fish- and there was ketchup AND tartar sauce sitting right on that table at the front of the room mocking me- daring me to come and get it.
Me: I’m gonna get me some tartar sauce.
Michaels: You’re crazy.
Was I? - I wasn’t worried about my marching- the one thing I kicked ass at in AR-OH was marching- that was cake- I just needed a little luck not to get noticed.
I waited ‘til I saw some other airmen head in that direction and I stood up.
I feigned confidence with each step and each pivot was like a dance move. As I got to the table and turned my back to the T.I.’s, I quickly scanned the table for the items I was interested in- ketchup and tartar sauce.
Other airmen- they were jarred pickles- meaning their green uniforms had their names on them- were doing the same.
I noticed that there were lemons there- salt, pepper- all kinds of wonderments- but I was taking too long-
“AIRMAN!” One of the T.I.’s shouted-
I didn’t turn around- I didn’t move.
“AIRMAN!”
An airman next to me turned-
“Come here and tell me about the chain of command Airman- STEVENS.” He said reading his name tag.
Stevens had fallen for it- The T.I. was just waiting for one of us to turn around so he could fuck with us.
I took what I had in my hand and cut back to the table with a precision that would have made any drill instructor proud. That day I had tartar sauce and all was well.
About a week and a half later it was Michaels who would risk it-
“I’m going to get a dessert.” He whispered.
“Are you fucking CRAZY?”- I asked with a hushed yell full of envy because I had dreamed so much about the ice cream in that box.
“I haven’t had dessert in two weeks! I’m going crazy- I’m going for it.”
“Bring me back one, too!” Davis said-
“Fuck you! I’m not gonna get called out because I’m holding TWO ice creams in my hands.”
He had a point.
He stood and began the long trek to the icebox in the corner of the room. We watched him with great anticipation as we continued to slowly shovel food in our mouths.
In what seemed like hours he made it to the icebox.
Michaels opened the top and pulled out a Bomb Pop in one move.
He spun on his heels and began his march back to the table- he had a smile on his face- and then it happened.
“Airman Michaels!”
It was our T.I.
“Sir, Yes sir!”
“Getting a little dessert this evening?”
“Sir, Yes sir!”
“Good for you. Carry on.”
“Sir, Yes sir!”
Michaels got to the table with a huge grin and began to eat the Bomb Pop like he’d been in the Sahara for weeks and this was his first meal. He got halfway through it before they dismissed our flight. Michaels took two huge bites as he stood and we all ran out to formation.
From then on I had the fortitude to go to any of the tables and I only got called to the Snake Pit once, where I was asked about where I was from (which was right there in San Antonio) and what I was going to do on our free day off base- sexual exploits were alluded to- (They thought I was going to go to some woman’s house and get shagged the entire day) then I was allowed to go back to my table.
In time- we learned to relax in that mess hall- even as we saw other rainbows get shattered. When I look back on it- it's kinda funny- but when I was in it- It was fucked up- MAJORLY.
*don't worry- I will describe what a 341 is in a post very soon.
3.04.2009
Moment 064: Dancing With Kelly On Echo Valley
We lived on a street called Echo Valley for a while-
I was about 8 or 9 at the time. The street was a Cul-de-Sac so all the kids would hang out together and knew each other pretty well even if we didn't all get along all the time.
There were a couple sisters named Kelly and Becky there. They had an older brother named Hank who was in the 6th grade.
I used to hang with Kelly and Becky- mostly Kelly though. Kelly was crazy into "Grease"- that hot little musical starring John Travolta and Olivia Newton John. Now at the time, I was into Star Wars- but this Olivia chick was kinda smoking. I also thought Kelly was the bees-knees so on one of my MANY trips to the Century South movie theater- I happened to see "Grease" and it was THE BOMB (you know, in a good way- not A bomb).
So now I understood what Kelly was so freaky about and we would sing and dance to the songs together.
One day we decided to put on a show for our siblings- Well, not Hank because he was a dickhead 6th grader and you never knew what kind of attitude he was gonna have from day to day- but my brother Joe was in the audience and so was Becky. I forget if there were other kids but it feels like there were...
Anyway- we took a couple of boards and put them on the fence in my backyard so that they straddled the corner- this made a great stage.
How we didn't fall off and kill ourselves was probably a better show than the one we put on but we DID put on one HELL of a show. We did songs from "Grease" and The Bee Gees and I think we even made up some shit.
Good times...
Now, it was sometime around here there was a school dance at my elementary. Going into the dance I was a bit of an outcast 'cause of who I hung out with. All the popular kids were there though- Ronnie included.
They had this dance contest where people would some and tap you on the shoulder when they thought you sucked and you would have to leave the floor.
I was kickin' ass as they were playing a bunch of Grease songs and Bee Gee songs. Between the sessions with Kelly and the shit my Aunt Lo-Lo taught me- it was like I trained for this contest my whole life!
I totally came in first place and had the time of my life (you know, so far).
The next day at school- even Ronnie came up to me and gave me mad props for my dance moves. I didn't give a shit about his approval but I have to admit it was cool of him to say so- I also didn't get picked on as much after that.
School dances ROCK!
I was about 8 or 9 at the time. The street was a Cul-de-Sac so all the kids would hang out together and knew each other pretty well even if we didn't all get along all the time.
There were a couple sisters named Kelly and Becky there. They had an older brother named Hank who was in the 6th grade.
I used to hang with Kelly and Becky- mostly Kelly though. Kelly was crazy into "Grease"- that hot little musical starring John Travolta and Olivia Newton John. Now at the time, I was into Star Wars- but this Olivia chick was kinda smoking. I also thought Kelly was the bees-knees so on one of my MANY trips to the Century South movie theater- I happened to see "Grease" and it was THE BOMB (you know, in a good way- not A bomb).
So now I understood what Kelly was so freaky about and we would sing and dance to the songs together.
One day we decided to put on a show for our siblings- Well, not Hank because he was a dickhead 6th grader and you never knew what kind of attitude he was gonna have from day to day- but my brother Joe was in the audience and so was Becky. I forget if there were other kids but it feels like there were...
Anyway- we took a couple of boards and put them on the fence in my backyard so that they straddled the corner- this made a great stage.
How we didn't fall off and kill ourselves was probably a better show than the one we put on but we DID put on one HELL of a show. We did songs from "Grease" and The Bee Gees and I think we even made up some shit.
Good times...
Now, it was sometime around here there was a school dance at my elementary. Going into the dance I was a bit of an outcast 'cause of who I hung out with. All the popular kids were there though- Ronnie included.
They had this dance contest where people would some and tap you on the shoulder when they thought you sucked and you would have to leave the floor.
I was kickin' ass as they were playing a bunch of Grease songs and Bee Gee songs. Between the sessions with Kelly and the shit my Aunt Lo-Lo taught me- it was like I trained for this contest my whole life!
I totally came in first place and had the time of my life (you know, so far).
The next day at school- even Ronnie came up to me and gave me mad props for my dance moves. I didn't give a shit about his approval but I have to admit it was cool of him to say so- I also didn't get picked on as much after that.
School dances ROCK!
3.03.2009
Moment: 060 Five Palms Elementary
When I lived on Echo Valley I went to Five Palms Elementary- At least I think that was the name of that school- I went to like 3 or 4 different elementary schools so it gets a little confusing. Anyway-
Five Palms was alright. I mean, I liked it- more than my other schools so far.
For third grade I had Mrs. McCormick and for fourth grade I had Ms. Buck.
Ms. Buck I'll never forget because she gave me a ride home after the fourth grade picnic and we did the egg race together. She was very pretty. She had long, straight, dark hair and a butt that was- thick- meaning she was a healthy girl but by no means fat- Hmmmm- I would say she was like Jennifer Lopez but not hispanic-
Okay, spending waaaaaaay too much time thinking about Ms. Buck's butt.
*Ahem*
So- one of the really cool things to do in the morning before school started- a lot of boys would bring tennis balls to school. They would stand back about 10 feet off the wall behind the school.
Boys who hadn't brought a ball would attempt to run the length of the wall without getting hit by the hail of tennis balls being thrown at him while they ran.
That game was fun as hell! I always got a great rush out of running past that wall with tennis balls slapping against the brick with that loud "SPOOCK!"- sometimes it would be right in front of your face.
Another game we used to play- and looking back- this game was soooooo UN-Politically Correct in it's name- It was called "Smear the queer".
Now, this game was known across every playground and school yard in Texas I'd ever been on and non of us kids had any idea how fucked up the name of this game was- Honestly! It was just what it was called.
I felt that way about "Gerry-rig" too until I heard the word "Nigger-rig" (Gerry-rig is the German or Nazi version of Nigger-rig).
I digress...
This is how you played smear queer (as if you didn't already know)-
You get a group of people together and a football.
You all huddle together and throw the ball up in the air.
The person who picks up the ball runs for their life while everyone else tries to tackle (smear) them.
When that person is tackled eventually- they throw the ball up in the air and we start all over.
It's a hell of a game and beats the shit out of Atari.
So sometimes we would play Smear The Queer in the morning.
There was one dude who was mad popular in my grade- his name was Ronnie. He was this black kid who was hella fast, so he was our track star. He hung with this blond haired kid- named Mathew, I think.
Another kid was named Nathaniel. Nathaniel was- as my mom would say- "so black he was purple" and he was a fuckin' bully.
Now, when Ronnie got the ball we spent a long time chasing him- and when Nathaniel got the ball we spent a long time trying to knock him down.
I fell somewhere in between these two but I could run the ball for a good long while.
Ronnie was friendly- kinda but he kinda treated me like the nerd I was and did I mention that Nathaniel was a bully?
One time we played a game of STQ and Nathaniel ripped my house key from my neck and sent it sailing- the bell rang and he just laughed as he trotted away. Man! I was pissed (I was a bit of a hothead back then anyway).
I spent a long time looking for my key but I finally found it and went into the school. I actually challenged Nathaniel to a fight later but somehow it never went down. Maybe he didn't take me serious- I can't remember...
Sometime after that there was this new kid who came to our school. I'm gonna call him Steve.
Here's the thing- Steve was 9 and was sure he was gay. And he pretty much was! Everything about that kid screamed that he was gay- from the way he carried himself, to the dolls he would have- We used to draw comic books together and I would draw Spiderman and he would draw Wonder Woman.
All of his Wonder Woman adventures would be cool as hell though- she would be kicking ass and trying to look beautiful. And he had a real nice style for his age- I remember him drawing her with real long legs.
Steve and I were pretty tight friends- but all the other boys would make fun of him for being gay and therefore make fun of me for hanging with him. I didn't understand what the big deal was- It was so stupid. We were outcasts but we had a good time.
Steve must have had some weird shit going on in his house (I feel like I went there once but I can't clearly remember) because I remember seeing him in some weird places all by himself just hanging out.
One Saturday, my brother and I got up at 6am and went down to the living room with our covers and a big bowl of cereal and started watching cartoons- That's what you did on a Saturday (I just realized my kids do the same fucking thing- except the cereal is usually a Nutella sandwich and cartoons come on EVERY day so it doesn't have to be Saturday).
So everything is going cool when about 7:30 someone rings the doorbell- And it's fuckin' STEVE!
I invited him in- the three of us are sitting on the couch with the covers draped across us- watching toons.
About 9:30 or 10- my Parents came out-
Now, my parents are anti-social out the ass. They didn't like kids coming over or us going to stay at other people's houses or any of that shit. So here it is- 10am and there's this little white kid sitting on the couch with us. I thought they were gonna freak-
Of course they didn't- Steve had breakfast with us and hung out and my parents were really cool about the whole thing. My mom kept looking at him all weird like "WTF?"
But that was really fun.
I don't know what happened to Steve- I did run into Ronnie when we started going to this big Baptist church downtown. Ronnie's dad was one of the bigwigs that worked with the Reverend there. That church was on the radio and everything- it was HUGE and you would be there like a job as it went on for like 6 hours-
So I ran into him one week- then the next week they had this big sermon on the evils of being gay- I was like- "that stupid motherfucker".
Yeah. Five Palms...It was cool.
Five Palms was alright. I mean, I liked it- more than my other schools so far.
For third grade I had Mrs. McCormick and for fourth grade I had Ms. Buck.
Ms. Buck I'll never forget because she gave me a ride home after the fourth grade picnic and we did the egg race together. She was very pretty. She had long, straight, dark hair and a butt that was- thick- meaning she was a healthy girl but by no means fat- Hmmmm- I would say she was like Jennifer Lopez but not hispanic-
Okay, spending waaaaaaay too much time thinking about Ms. Buck's butt.
*Ahem*
So- one of the really cool things to do in the morning before school started- a lot of boys would bring tennis balls to school. They would stand back about 10 feet off the wall behind the school.
Boys who hadn't brought a ball would attempt to run the length of the wall without getting hit by the hail of tennis balls being thrown at him while they ran.
That game was fun as hell! I always got a great rush out of running past that wall with tennis balls slapping against the brick with that loud "SPOOCK!"- sometimes it would be right in front of your face.
Another game we used to play- and looking back- this game was soooooo UN-Politically Correct in it's name- It was called "Smear the queer".
Now, this game was known across every playground and school yard in Texas I'd ever been on and non of us kids had any idea how fucked up the name of this game was- Honestly! It was just what it was called.
I felt that way about "Gerry-rig" too until I heard the word "Nigger-rig" (Gerry-rig is the German or Nazi version of Nigger-rig).
I digress...
This is how you played smear queer (as if you didn't already know)-
You get a group of people together and a football.
You all huddle together and throw the ball up in the air.
The person who picks up the ball runs for their life while everyone else tries to tackle (smear) them.
When that person is tackled eventually- they throw the ball up in the air and we start all over.
It's a hell of a game and beats the shit out of Atari.
So sometimes we would play Smear The Queer in the morning.
There was one dude who was mad popular in my grade- his name was Ronnie. He was this black kid who was hella fast, so he was our track star. He hung with this blond haired kid- named Mathew, I think.
Another kid was named Nathaniel. Nathaniel was- as my mom would say- "so black he was purple" and he was a fuckin' bully.
Now, when Ronnie got the ball we spent a long time chasing him- and when Nathaniel got the ball we spent a long time trying to knock him down.
I fell somewhere in between these two but I could run the ball for a good long while.
Ronnie was friendly- kinda but he kinda treated me like the nerd I was and did I mention that Nathaniel was a bully?
One time we played a game of STQ and Nathaniel ripped my house key from my neck and sent it sailing- the bell rang and he just laughed as he trotted away. Man! I was pissed (I was a bit of a hothead back then anyway).
I spent a long time looking for my key but I finally found it and went into the school. I actually challenged Nathaniel to a fight later but somehow it never went down. Maybe he didn't take me serious- I can't remember...
Sometime after that there was this new kid who came to our school. I'm gonna call him Steve.
Here's the thing- Steve was 9 and was sure he was gay. And he pretty much was! Everything about that kid screamed that he was gay- from the way he carried himself, to the dolls he would have- We used to draw comic books together and I would draw Spiderman and he would draw Wonder Woman.
All of his Wonder Woman adventures would be cool as hell though- she would be kicking ass and trying to look beautiful. And he had a real nice style for his age- I remember him drawing her with real long legs.
Steve and I were pretty tight friends- but all the other boys would make fun of him for being gay and therefore make fun of me for hanging with him. I didn't understand what the big deal was- It was so stupid. We were outcasts but we had a good time.
Steve must have had some weird shit going on in his house (I feel like I went there once but I can't clearly remember) because I remember seeing him in some weird places all by himself just hanging out.
One Saturday, my brother and I got up at 6am and went down to the living room with our covers and a big bowl of cereal and started watching cartoons- That's what you did on a Saturday (I just realized my kids do the same fucking thing- except the cereal is usually a Nutella sandwich and cartoons come on EVERY day so it doesn't have to be Saturday).
So everything is going cool when about 7:30 someone rings the doorbell- And it's fuckin' STEVE!
I invited him in- the three of us are sitting on the couch with the covers draped across us- watching toons.
About 9:30 or 10- my Parents came out-
Now, my parents are anti-social out the ass. They didn't like kids coming over or us going to stay at other people's houses or any of that shit. So here it is- 10am and there's this little white kid sitting on the couch with us. I thought they were gonna freak-
Of course they didn't- Steve had breakfast with us and hung out and my parents were really cool about the whole thing. My mom kept looking at him all weird like "WTF?"
But that was really fun.
I don't know what happened to Steve- I did run into Ronnie when we started going to this big Baptist church downtown. Ronnie's dad was one of the bigwigs that worked with the Reverend there. That church was on the radio and everything- it was HUGE and you would be there like a job as it went on for like 6 hours-
So I ran into him one week- then the next week they had this big sermon on the evils of being gay- I was like- "that stupid motherfucker".
Yeah. Five Palms...It was cool.
3.02.2009
Moment: 002 Lil' Kim
I'm a blur in this picture because I jumped at the camera at the last moment. Lil' Kim was always in motion with his trusty walker underneath him. This is a shot I stumbled across while digging through my treasure chest of memories.
It's the only picture I have of myself as a baby, though I know there are more out there somewhere.
Now, the story with this picture is NOT the crazy carpet that looks like something outta Vegas and it's NOT the fact that this is a polaroid from 1969- something a great many of you would not understand the significance of- hrrph! I'm not old. I'm distinguished.
No-
The point is the walker.
As a baby- I was told- I was a fuckin' madman in that walker. I would run that bad boy around the house like it was nobody's business- And I believe this is my Grandma's house.
I would be darting all over the place in my little walker- until one day I actually ran that walker right off the front porch steps of my grandma's house.
From then on- you couldn't get me back into that walker.
However...
I DID still grab onto the walker and use it to putter around the house. You couldn't get me into it but I wouldn't go without it.
I can still relate to the philosophy.
You'll also notice that I got my pacifier on a string 'round my neck- much later in life, when I became a latch-key kid, I would wear my home key the same way.
I don't know what I have on that second string around my neck but I DO look happy as hell to be hanging out.
I guess this would be the place to talk about my name-
I was born right after my mom had lost several people in her life. Her father. Two Brothers and my older brother.
She DESPERATELY wanted a girl that she would name Kimberly- but I was a big ass boy so she decided to name me after one of her brothers who had passed away- Kenny.
That's when my grandma- being superstitious- informed her it was bad luck to name someone after someone who had so recently passed.
So she combined the two names and got "Kimmy".
People ask me all the time if that is my whole name- and I used to just say- Yeah! and tell the story.
Then I started telling people that my full name was "Kimethius" expecting them to say "OH. Yeah, Kimmy is much better than that."
But they ALWAYS say- "Wow! Kimethius is a COOL name." To which I moan and walk away.
Now, "Kimmy" is actually used for men in Chinese culture- it means "Chief". "Gorden" I think is Scott and means "Of the Hill People".
So yeah, I got that going for me.
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