If you have high speed internet and a few minutes, this is good for a laugh. We captured this on video a while ago…this is a local…”tending the flock”. He is about a mile away and had no idea that we are watching him. (warning: R rated and a large file…25mb)

http://box.net/public/myersandrew22/dfiles/cow.mpg

   I spent about an hour and half last night making this extravagant post about the last leg of my journey home and when I sent it xanga was down and I lost the whole thing, so needless to say I don’t feel like typing that all again so this will probably be the very short version which is probably good because these last few posts have been a little long-winded anyway. 

      So we arrive in Kuwait and get off the plane to the smell of fresh sand,  and a refreshing 110 degree breeze on your neck. Meadows and I ended up on baggage detail which didn’t bother me to much because I still had no idea where my carry-on went with my 2 laptops, psp, camera, and all my technical gadgets. We all filed into formations based on where we were going and then all into a big room with AC. After a surprisingly minimal amount of BS, we were told everything we needed to know and then cut loose.

       We went to get something to eat and then settled into our little area and instead of sleeping like we should of, started an impromptu game of poker. 18$ later (richer) It was my time to go to formation for everyone going to Khandahar, there was a rumor moving about that there was only 5 seats on this plane going to Khandahar available, thanks to recent sand storms and delays. Most of the 70 some people waiting had been there for a few days or more so I was pretty sure that I wasn’t going to be on this flight or even the next one. Meadows and I began working on a plan to be at the back of any lines waiting to get manifested for a flight and try and squeeze out another week of vacation playing poker and sleeping in the blazing sands of Kuwait. Which despite it’s hellish temperature, has some of the best army food anywhere and a decent movie theatermall thing.

        Somehow despite our planning the next thing I knew 50 or 60 of us Khandahar people were loading onto a bus to drive back to the airfield and go home….damn! I was so sure I was coming back that I never even so goodbye to Meadows. Now I really hope that neither of us gets shot or I will feel like a real ass (bad joke). The next thing I know I was being packed onto a C130 which is no fun to ride in without a parachute. I still say that I would rather jump out then land in one. Once again we take a suicide-like dive into Khandahar, land suddenly and like that I am only one stop away from being back to the base.

      Once at Khandahar, I take a nap, a shower, call home, check Email, do laundry, work out, and then head down to the basketball courts again, this time with fresh legs. Without my bum foot and bad leg I could finally move around like usual and I represented for all white-person-kind. Pleased with this, I wondered off to my room to go to sleep for a few hours before my helicopter fired up to take me home. Of course with the Army things are never that simple. Somehow supply actually LOST my helmet. I don’t mean misplaced, like lost! As they search around frantically I actually saw them look in drawers that it wouldn’t even fit in and places it would never be. It is their ass if it comes up missing. And I couldn’t get on the bird without it…right now I have their kevlar and they are probably still looking for mine. They probably are just trying at whatever cost to avoid reporting mine missing. Also the front sight post of my weapon is somehow bent??

( | ) it is supposed to look like this

( ) it looks like this instead

 Now the army considers my M4 a highly tuned precision instrument, and I am almost sure that “bending” it back with pliers wasn’t the solution the manual calls for, but I wasn’t going to say anything. But I should have never got on the bird. There is no way I could hit anything past 100 meters with it the way it is. If I knew that I was about to have a near-death experience I never would have.

     So the rumors circulating were that the reason we were flying in the middle of the night was because after the bad guys shot down that bird last week, they had been shooting at everything flying ever since. So I was a little nervous when after the first few stops at other bases the sun began to peek up over the horizon. Then I kept hearing that sound that you may remember from Top Gun whenever a plane was going down…(beh, beh, ,beh) But whenever I would take of my earplugs and listen it would go away. I relaxed after we landed and then took of again, I figured, if it is not really there, then good. And if it is, they landed and then took back off so it must be safe…right? Either way it frazzled my nerves just a little more and lessened my readiness for what was about to happen.

      Just as we fly over a ridge I notice that the sun is now more then rising and is bordering on just being up, as I sit there with my face pressed up against the window trying to see as far ahead as possible I notice all the people outside doing whatever the Afghanis do…farming or whatever. And that is when the first rocket flew by. About 10 yards left of the bird and at the same angle from where the crowd of people were. Just then another one, bright and with a huge tail of thick gray smoke making a louding hissing noise and just about 6 yards away this time. I braced for the impact of a third one, feeling like it would hit just below me or maybe hit one of the props. I clutched my weapon and made sure that my ammo was still in my vest after I leaving it with the idiots in supply…preparing for the inevitable firefight if I survived the crash. I looked back to see the others reaction, and was surprised to see most asleep, a few just relaxing waiting to be home. “fools….” I thought, feeling my heart somewhere around my knees, “we are all about to die and they have no clue”. I snapped the other way and noticed that the expression of the gunner was unusually calm also, and he had definitely saw the rockets…that was about the time that I smelled the sulfur and saw 4 flares gliding through the air behind the bird. I felt like an idiot, a completely terrified idiot. My heart was still pounding as I started putting together the pieces of the scene. Sometime the gunners rip off a few rounds into the hillside just to “show force”…It is always fun to watch the inexperienced helicopter passengers freak out thinking we are taking fire. Well, apparently this time they decided to shoot some flares out over this valley to “show force”. And apparently these flares shoot out in front of the bird and then come wizzing back bye. Damn, don’t I feel like and idiot. But still I was more then relieved to be alive.

(this is stock footage…this is how I thought flare traveled…from the rear to out in front, well these came from below us in front the rear?? Doesn’t make sense but I looked at the thing that shoots them when I got off and it points down and away from the nose of the plane so that explains why it looked the way it did)

         We touched down safely and it was time to bunker in and get prepared to deal with 9 more months of life in the ‘ghan. A lot has changed since I left but not all of it for the worst. I am actually glad to be back and ready to get it over with and be back home.

    So here was the setting…again I was the only one on the plane that was not in uniform. Again I had already managed a seat in the front by pretending that I lost my original ticket, and presenting my military ID to the flight attendant mentioning something about finding the ticket. It bought me enough time to let the plane fill up while I noticed that one of the four front seats was apparently empty I jumped in an began fumbling with my DCU hat. The site of that either scared of any would be “seaters”, or the airline never sold one of the best seats on the plane…doubtful.

       Due to the unwanted attention of being the only one not in uniform I was cautious not to drink and bring more bruise to myself if there would be a confrontation ahead. I don’t mind trouble with the military, in fact I enjoy it…but only trouble that won’t bring negative consequences. Only situations that I can control, or claim ignorance to, or otherwise.

       After deboarding the plane I found the USO and began searching for a place to change, I took careful notice of everyone staring at the soldiers even though we were everywhere around the terminal. About 1 soldier for every 2 citizens. And still they stare, it was like a mixture between anxiety over the implied violence of a group of wartime soldiers, and the implied safety of a horde of US mercenaries bent on the safekeeping of the US. But still they stare, unwaveringly at the us, unsure if we were a ticking timebomb, or a pinyata shaped like an M4 ready to burst and dispense candy and gumdrop smiles into the crowd.

        I moved through the crowd unnoticed, exchanging smiles with what seemed to be an inordinate amount of attractive women in the terminal, in a favorite game of mine known as the “eye contact game”. A “game”  created during and left over from the salesman days. I won’t complicate this post with the rules and scorekeeping of the game, let’s just say that the score was much in favor of the version with me in civilian clothes. Many people stare, but few will look at you an exchange expressions when you are in uniform, if that makes sense. They don’t want you to be a person, just a uniform. The situation is much the same as how most would like to see a car accident, but would not like it of the crumpled vehicles turned to them and said “hello”. I left all the confidence and swagger of the day, with my civilian clothes which had been tucked away in my bag, and dawned my equalizer…I mean uniform. (same thing)

       I left the USO and wondered down to the check-in counter to get my flight times and a ticket. I was given a time but no ticket, instead just a piece of paper with my name, and time of flight printed on it. I thought to myself, “that is strange, anyone could just forge one of these so easily, the military can get away with anything.” That is when I realized the reason why. They could have given us all the same colored paper clip and told us the terminal to be at, because there is noone trying to fake a paper ticket to Kuwait. Except maybe a terrist, but what terrist sees a plane literally full of soldiers as an opportunity for mayham?

      So I leave the terminal and my attention shifts to finding Meadows and maybe trying to sneak in a beer, maybe even two…even though I was told not to. I round the corner and spot the silhouette of a man either recreating a crossover dribble he had done at home, or walking in the long wide steps that a drunk sometime digresses into. Of course it was Meadows and he definitely wasn’t simulating a game winning basketball maneuver. Meadows checked in and imidiately divulged his plans for mass consumption. We immediately began discussing the risk vs. rewards of the situation and came  to the conclusion that although the risk was, a high percentage chance of getting caught, meaning loss of rank, money, and 45 days extra duty, (which would mean 45 days of non-stop overtime doing anything from cleaning toilets, to unstacking and stacking boxes in the heat) The reward of course was saying “fuck you” to the system and reliving old memories, or at least the situation that produced a lack of memories back at Bragg.

        We agreed to proceed with plan A, or B, or whichever one preceded the sentence…”two budweisers and two shots of crown”. The only catch was the that due to Meadows current state, and his recent advice that we say “screw it” and drink right in the USO terminal, I was in charge of the reasoning for the situation. The plan was to cross the airline security perimeter about 6 hours early, and 4 hours earlier then the rest of the military people who for some completely strange reason like to “link up” and spent time together, or at least in a herd.

      Once through security we proceed not to terminal E like we were supposed to, but instead to terminal A, using the uniform like a universal hallpass. We the make our way to a place, that compared to bars in the airport, that are completely visible to passersby, seemed like a meca. At this point I was still very much sober and was sure that the military would organize and send out scouts to find us, or at least snitches to bust all the unafraid drinkers. So I was more then thrilled at seeing escalator that led to a 2nd level, and took you underneath one of the most welcomed signs ever…”the Budwieser Lounge”. Completely hidden from view and anyone going up there was just as crafty, and just a guilty as we were.

         We set down our things, ordered up the first round, and casually eavesdropped on a few guys at the end of the arguing over which on of them would pay for it. Eventually someone paid and they all took credit when the bartender told us. We raised the double shots of crown in the air to them, I made up a toast on the way there that seemed appropriate…” To men with plans, nine months in the sand… good times, and great stories”. I noticed a few people that overheard the toast, and they all stared off at the wall, moved my this very fantastic version of what we were about to do in the desert, and they looked almost envious, sad to just be flying home again after another marketing conference in Atlanta, the third this year, I think I saw a tear roll down one man’s face. Of course it is hard to remember, because after the first 2 shots and 20oz Budwieser, we had settled on the idea of stopping the drinking at 4:00, (the time I figured everyone would head for the terminals) and it became a race of sorts, against the clock if not each other.

        All I remember is shouting encouragements at whoever was playing the Yankees and beating them…a few things Meadows said, this guy next to me that was also military and was going to Afghan to in a week or something, and this old British women that Meadows and I couldn’t resist flirting with. I remember she worked for NATO but if you asked her to say it, which I did several times, it was NATO (pronounced nAtO) Imagine it with a British accent and you should come close.

        We left the bar at 4:00 on the nose and had done everything very covertly…we then headed to the terminal, got off the airport subway, and stopped at another bar…then went to the gate…and then went to another bar about 20 yards away from the 200 military personal we were hiding from. Needless to say my inhibitions a fallen considerably. After that all I remember is arguing with Meadows about if had been 7 beers and 2 shots, or 7 beers and 3 shots in the last 2 and a half hours. My argument is still that the first round was a double shot, I ordered it that way because I knew someone would pick up our first round. Anyway, beside that I remember Meadows warning me that I was slurring, I remember a bag full of McDonalds or some kind of food, and I remember leaning against the wall, and then very suddenly I was laying against the wall. I swore that I meant to sit down and believed it, but now I find it more likely that fell.

        I don’t remember boarding the plane or them apparently checking my bag (caused great confusion later), but I do remember waking up, once again, in the best seat on the plane. The one right in front of the TV screen with more room then  first class. Of course on this flight, first class was nothing more then the first section of seating with no real difference. I have a feeling that there is a great story behind how I ended up in the first class seats with Meadows, some E7 and some E8. But Meadows wouldn’t know, and I didn’t want to relive any possible horrible story with the E8 about how I threw my carry-on at the the flight attendant, then slapped her when she took it away, so she made me sit with them for the entire flight. Or maybe something even far more sinister indeed.

          Let’s just say that waking up on a 12 hour flight hungover…SUCKS. But you have to pay to play and I am pretty sure that we had fun. Before long we were in Kuwait, sobered up, and had dodged several bullets about the issue of our state when we boarded the plane. After the first few rounds I forgot that you can smell a drunk, or tell by the way he talks…you don’t HAVE to actually see him drinking. But we got to our destination in Kuwait and after a few hours of crap, were ready for phase two of the trip back to the ‘ghan.

    After I got back from the trip, the trip seemed to go a whole lot faster then before, probably because I was just following the “schedule” that I made that accounted for most of the hours that I had left. I still had a huge party, a wedding, , a graduation, a camping trip, fishing trip, day in Chicago, Cubs game, a day on the lake, and a go-cart race to complete.   

      Most of the next week went as planned which sounds boring but nothing dissapointed, all in all the vacation couldn’t have went much better and even though I have a ton of time left here, I am glad that I took my leave in the summer because I couldn’t imagine it going much better. The party was cool and I saw an old friend that I thought that I would never see again and had a great time despite the hangover. The graduation party was a good time with great food and despite the hangover, the postgame report said that I was dressed decent and mingled well so that was a success. The camping trip never happened we instead opted for a night to work on the script and the just drank vodka and red bull instead. The fishing trip was pretty awesome…highlighted by me letting the biggest fish I have ever caught go…(don’t ask). Despite being expensive, the trip to Chicago was a blast, taste of Chicago was cool and the bleacher seats at the Cubs were made up for by a Cubbies win. The day on the lake was fun and highlighted by a near-death experience in the highsurf of the Lake Michigan…4 ot 6 foot waves were awesome but proved to dangerous to enjoy. Sadly, the go-kart trip was dissaopointing, thanks to some unexpected driving skill by the opposition, I was upset in front of witnesses and now have something to prove.

      This was the first trip home that I got a chance to do everything on the list and still had a few hours to just sit at the pool and relax. Before I knew I was kissing the dog and girl goodbye…again…and watching fireworks, and then getting back on yet another jet plane back to the sand. With still one adventure left to go when I got to the airport with Meadows and of course the trip home.

   This was almost the next site that I saw…it was time for a road trip, a personal and time honored tradition of Americana…even if it is a road trip to Canada…I really wasn’t sure what the military would think of me heading for the Canadian border on my 2nd day of leave and I really didn’t care. We made it half way there and then set up camp the 1st night at some state park in Michigan. At this point a had almost 1000$ invested in my high end camping equipment, New tent, new chairs, lights, grill, knives, compass, flask, sleeping bags, Swiss army air-mattresses, many other things as well as a cooler loaded with bacon and eggs and cheese, drinks, and everything I would need for the trip. We covered all the details, right down to coozies that matched the chairs and a new leash for Emmy that read, “It’s not easy being a princess.” The only thing that was lacking was a stop over the border for hops flavored beverages. The point is…we were ready!!!…but Emmy still looked nervous.

  The first night was a little rough, we pulled off the road just as it started to get dark, and started to set up just as it started to rain. So much for my fanatical intent to keep everything clean. After a morning breakfast and a hour or so cleaning the tent back to standard, we took a hike to subdue the canine, and were off towards the border. The line of questioning going into Canada is much different the when you return. Heading in went something like this…”Ye ain’t terrists are ye?”. Except not in those words or in that accent. After a little fun going 120 for the first hour in Canada I realized that they meant that in Kilometers. Kidding but that would have been a fun case to present to the cops along with the military ID that probably wouldn’t have even helped in Canada. After we got all of our initial Canada sucks jokes out of the way we started noticing a few of the really weird things about Canada. First, literally everywhere in Canada was under construction, it didn’t really slow things down, just made them seem strange, there was always a building road or highway that was be built as we flew by. Just offputting that’s all, Second, EVERY exit had a golf course, and if there was only one golf course, then there would be at least two winerys, we saw hundreds of winerys and golf courses on the three hour trip to Niagara…literally hundreds. Apparently all Canadians do is build stuff, and then get drunk on wine and play golf.  (Noteworthy: I am moving to Canada) By 3;00 we were set up at our corner lot a a campground outside the falls and ready for adventure.

    We made good use of our time there a stuck to the effective plan of something for us to do, something for the dog to take part in…(Repeat) We hiked several cool areas and also hit the major tourists traps, behind the falls, Omni Theater, the falls, the clock…ect. We also hiked this big trail about when the “invading Americans attacked”, very strange to read the battle from there perspective…we weren’t attacking Canada, just a bunch of British assholes across the river. But I guess it is all perspective. They mentioned informants… of course on our side of the river that is known as a traitor. But a very cool site with monuments and stories ect., plus… it counted as something for Emmy, so with her tired out, we were off to the Chocolate Factory, casino, ect. Unexpectedly interesting was the butterfly conservatory, I got some great pictures with the camera and a few that look like a picture they would show in an add to sell the camera. (as follows)

   All in all the trip was great…the falls were way more touristy then I had realized, we spent a lot of time looking at the Hilton and thinking how much better of a way that would have been to go. So the next camping trip is going to REQUIRE a compass. From now on, vacations are in hotels, camping is in the middle of nowhere. But the falls were beautiful, not at all like I had pictured them to be. And there is a lot more history and enterprise there then I had realized. I just couldn’t believe how much water actually travels over them at time.

    After a long third morning we were on our way home, all the cooking and camping equipment was put away clean. Which is much tougher then it sounds. The Starbucks cups were full and we were on the road to America…Very ready to be home and very tired from a busy three days.

Aside from a well negotiated, but heated conversation with the customs agent, the trip home went as planned an without much event. I was actually glad to say it was done and that it all went the way is was planned and it was as enjoyable as expected.  I was looking forward to the unplanned part of my leave…of course the next day I wrote a list of everything that needed to be done and planned it out day by day with no time left to spare. At least it WAS unplanned.

         Ahh…ok four hours to update. I have about a month to cover where there was no significant posts to mention. I guess I will start at the beginning. After my last post about Kuwait I went to sleep and woke up just moments before the morning meeting about flight times ect., turns out to my disbelief, that my friend Meadows was on the same leave period that I was on an had just gotten in the night before and was going to be on the same flight. So after a few hours of laughs and old jokes with him, it was time to get excited about going home, or so I thought. I have never felt so dicked around in my life. I have come to the conclusion that the military was doing it on purpose to beat any “extra” adrenaline about going home out of the troops. Inside of 48 hours we spend about 20 of them mindlessly waiting for something that was never described to us…3 hours in line at customs, 2 hours in line somewhere else,  6 or seven hours worth of “briefings” that were all delivered at various times with varying enthusiasm levels by many different people over the SAME things. Add about 23 hours or so worth of flights and buses and helicopter rides and an extra hour and half in line in Atlanta when we could literally see the barrier that we would have to cross that would drop us off back at civilian life and you will have some idea what life was like up until I got on the plane back to South Bend in civilian clothes and started pounding free rum an cokes in First Class.

        You would think that all that would have driven me to the point violence, and maybe it would have, but thanks to the presence of my old drinking and thinking buddy Meadows, it somehow turned in a wild adventure with all the insanity and mindless laughter of a fourth grade slumber party. Call it the lack of sleep, or the desperation of the situation, or just the excitement about going home but we had a blast despite a few white water rushes of insanity or planned violence or loud outburst that would never happen and would instead be replaced by some well-placed sarcasm and maybe a few running jokes that probably weren’t funny but we will never know because I really don’t remember any of it, other than this weird officer in Germany and all the weird things that came out of his mouth on the way by.

       I was never so happy to see all the fat, slow, lost, even the vagrants of society were welcomed into my field of vision but of there lack of discipline, there indivuality, and the fact that almost none of them looked like they wanted to shoot me or had a bomb in there suitcase. However almost worse, they all wanted to stare at me like a celebrity thanks to the DCUs and the 82 Airborne patch. People stared, kids actually pointed, and EVERYBODY moved to the side. Strange situation to find yourself in as the first civilian encounter on your way home.

         I moved quickly and with purpose and headed for the terminal that would take me home with no extra waiting and no briefing about suicide, safety, sexually transmitted diseases, and especially no 5 minute briefing on how to navigate your way past the SIGNS, to find the smoking lounge. Mission success, I got moved to first class before the masses arrived and then like Superman, ditched the uniform and disappeared from sight. All the soldiers were giving a standing “ovation” when we got on the plane. That is all the soldiers but me because I was already tucked wisely into my seat at the front of the airplane in civilian clothes sipping on strong drink that I had mixed at the first bar I saw after I changed. I could see the awkward embarrassment on the faces of the other soldiers for being given an ovation from people who were just doing what the person in front of them started, and had no idea what they were applauding other then the uniform. Thankfully I avoided all the strange press until I was off the plane and had to grab my rucksack of the cart and start fielding the same questions the others had been bothered with for the entire flight that I spent talking to the girl next to me about Notre Dame and other boring, but NON-military things.

           The next thing I knew I was home, and the clock had started. Before I knew it I was at my moms with a beer in hand, and then at pops house taking apart a small mound of packages that came from somewhere deep in cyberspace via EBAY. Everything ordered was accounted for, and then came the talk of a camping trip. Supplies were rounded up, sparing no expense, and the trip was planned and executed. At midnight I realized the clock had just actually begun ticking and my leave was underway. I celebrated with a beer and then went to sleep, knowing as soon as I woke up, almost everyday was accounted for, birthdays, weddings, graduations, road trips, college visits, cubs games, quality time…there was much to do.

     Sorry for the non-post for those that were expecting it today…I just came on shift and by the time the pictures uploaded, I realized that the wit and comedy that my posts are usually laced with, would likely be absent if I tried to write it all now. It has been way to long since I last slept for more then an hour at a time…(happened twice in the last day) So I have an hour left on shift, then 8 hours of sleep hopefully, then back on shift and then I will start posting then. So ten hours from now…I will see you again.

    I have arrived in Khandahar…I am sure that soon I will give the big update to the site but that will not be tonight. I am exhausted…outside of a few short naps on the plane over here it has been 52 hours since I have slept. I have a ton of good stories and tales about leave. Rumor has it that I leave here for “home” on Fri so if I don’t update before then, which I probably won’t, then I will post all the pictures and stuff then as soon as I get a chace. I am going to sleep. Goodnight

Home is great…I am gone camping in 10 minutes. All good things!

“F”and”A”…One day closer…today SUCKED. I am so ready to consider myself “on the way home” and the ARMY just will not let me. Today was full of waiting and getting breifings and then waiting. DAMN, so frustrating. And how about this, while it was 130 degrees the day before I left KAF, you have never felt hot like I felt today in Kuwait. I would rather shoot myself then be deployed for a year in this crap. Unbelievable how hot it was. It makes you weak in the knees almost, I could only walk like 100 yards before I would have to lean on the building for a sec or two. So I took a nap on a bed with a plastic lining and woke up in a “pool” of sweat…very cool. So the word is I leave here tomorrow late at night and then I make my way to Germany, then to Atlanta, then home. Back to the US by like 4:00pm on the 18th. I got a BUNCH more crap to do tomorrow, customs more “safety” and “suicide prevention” breifings that make me want to shoot myself. (Ironic?) I am looking forward to be back home thought and I know I will be back on American soil before I realize it, and then back here before I know what happened…and then home again before long, and then old the next thing I know. So in light of the fact I am just enjoying the idea that I couldn’t be any “closer” to coming home. See you soon