Jun 22, 2009

Come fly with me

Flying in the military is like playing bingo. Lets get the scenairo going... there is nothing wrong with your computer screen. You are entering the military zone. You live in Balitmore, Maryland and you want to fly to Orlando, Florida on Tuesday December 9th. Instead of going online to all the cheapo ticket websites and buying this ticket, its free. Awesome you think to yourself. However everyone is flying for free on this plane too. Your ticket says SPACE A, you do not know what this means and do not care. As part of flying on this flight you have alot of heavy things you must bring with, but who cares its free.

You show up on that tuesday two hours early for your flight. We'll call your flight, flight #933. You wait in line at the desk, with those heavy containers you had to bring. "I'd like to check on flight #933". Someone who seems as if they have no clue what there doing begins flipping through binders, and checking a computer. "Have you been added to the manifest yet sir?" You are asked. You have no clue what the manifest is, so you ask. "Let me see your paperwork.... oh your SPACE A which means Space Availble so if we have an extra seat you can get on, if we don't then you will have to catch the next flight". To shorten the dialouge you will ask when the next flight is, no one knows. You will also ask about lodging, they will point you in the direction of a small tent city that sucks ass to live in. Finally you will ask if someone has a vehicle to help you with all that heavy stuff you have, they will not have anything.

You wait two hours and you hear an announcement. "Flight #933 is on a six hour delay for maintence". MOTHERF****** you think to yourself. You already had a low priority of riding on this flight, plus you have invested two hours and carried your bags miles. In this situation.... you wait longer. You mean mug the people who are going to there planes. You bitch with the people who are delayed. You talk about ways the military could make the flight system better. "If they just had set flight times and personnel counts... blah blah blah". You then vasque in your idea being the greatest while bashing other peoples ideas. You give up on that conversation. You lay on your bags and fall asleep. Waking up feverishly every five minutes thinking there calling your plane.

You wake up after laying on your bags for eight hours. Your back feels like midgets have been wrestling on it. Your left arm is awkwardly numb. You realieze you have been drooling and everyone just let it happen. Totally dehydrated but still have to urinate a dragon out. All the water in the immediate area is completely hot. The one refridgerator you do find, makes the water hotter then room temprature somehow. "Flight #933 is boarding.. Sergeant Rockwell, SPACE A passenger is good to board". REALLY!!! I'm on the plane *victory dance*. Your bags go on the pallet, and you jump in the plane. You have your body armor on and your ipod playing in your ear. Its really loud inside the plane. One of the airforce guys taps your on the shoulder. "WERE FULL YOU HAVE TO GET OFF" he yells over the noise of the plane. Some other guy stands at the bottom of the ramp waiting for you to move so he can take your seat. You give it up and walk down it. You didn't fly... you go schedule another flight and do it again till you finally fly.

Rockwell, William
TF 1-12 IN B CO.
COP Terminator
APO AE 09355

Thats right, the place I live is called COP ( Combat Outpost) Terminator. You might live in the ghetto or the hood, I live in the opium capitol of the world. Can't get more gangster then that.

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