"Sitting in the lobby of a big hotel..."
That's a Joe Ely song or close to it.
And, The Faust Hotel isn't exactly big at all.
But, The Faust in New Braunfels, TX has "Home" in between trips for nigh on two years now.
"The Architect", "Marge" and "Echo November" are about 15 minutes down I35 from here and the "Folks" are about 45 minutes around the loop.
Having family close by is nice. We cook out or hang out or go catch some live music at Gruene Hall or some other venue.
Still I hang out by myself more than anything else.
It occurs to me frequently that I've spent most of my adult life by myself. That might seem to indicate that I'm comfortable in my own skin. I'm not so sure about that but it is certain that's the way my life runs.
Round Three in Afghanistan is in the books so I'm home for a while. So far it's David 2 Afghanistan 1.
Round One in Bagram didn't go so well and I think it's been documented here.
Two and Three were in Kandahar and went somewhat better.
Round Two has been the best so far. I got to travel a little. Got to fly in the King Air. Got to FLY the King Air. I've got more "Hours" in the left seat in the skies of Afghanistan than any where else. Also of note, to me at least, is the fact that I'm the only member of my family to fly a King Air (Including real live licensed pilots.) and the only one to fly anything in a Hot Zone.
Big deal.
So, Round Four is scheduled for October. Will I go back? Yes Bob. I most likely will.
Why? Money is the obvious part. Doing something that MIGHT be making a difference is a part of it.
NOT WORKING IN A REPAIR STATION is a HUGE part of it. Potentially bigger than the dollar factor. OK, MAYBE bigger.
Life in a repair station sucks the life out of me.
"Out In The Boonies" is where it's at. OK, most of my field trips have not been in the Boonie Boonies but they have been out there. Half way around the world about 10 times now. Camp Humphries Korea to Mombassa Kenya to Lincoln Nebraska to Howard AFB Panama.
All of them for some job or another.
All of them without micro managers, time clocks, shop rates or time clocks.
All of them, you do what needs to be done whether that means one hour or 36 straight.
I've had about enough Afghanistan but I guess I'll go back for Round Four.
Thanks for the kick in the ass Bob.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Nada, REALLY Nada...
I'm sitting on the tailgate of my work truck. The connection goes from "Very Low" inside my room to "Excellent" out here in the parking lot.
It's almost 8 pm and the temp must be down to 90. So it's not too bad out. Kinda hard to type in the dark though.
So, yes here we are halfway through the third trip to Afghanistan. Yee Haw.
Do I like it? Enjoy it? Hell no. It sucks bilge water. But the money is OK. Yes just "OK" far from great.
Whose brilliant idea was it to go to war with no fucking alcohol?!?! Can someone explain that one?
The government could have saved a lot of money. Folks might have been willing to come over here for less. (Not me. I'm practically a Peace Corp volunteer.)
Hell, they could have made a lot of money. Bunch of knuckle dragging contractors lopping around with more money that a lot of them know what to do with. Re-coop some of that investment Sam!
Misbehavior? No doubt. But this place is crawling with MP's that are auditioning to be small town cops somewhere. Keep them busy doing something other than running radar traps on the perimeter road!
Top legal speed on this dump is 40 KPH. Do the ciphering... 24 MPH!!! Most of the base is 20 KPH! I do understand a lot of the low speed streets. Some of the roads are bad and pedestrians are every where.
Pedestrians are STOOPIT!
This is a seriously multinational place. Some folks seem to be worse than others. Americans are about as bad as anyone else that steps out into the streets without looking.
I won't point any fingers at out neighbors to the north but geeeeeze! And get around that coffee shop? You better have a foot on the brake. (I do have to give them a break there. Tim Hortons coffee and donuts.... mmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!)
Gonna miss them when they go, well, I'll miss Tim Hortons and the cute Canadian girls with impossibly white teeth.
The Canadians also have a radio station simulcast here out of Ottawa, I think it is. Nicki Sixx does a late night show that I hear sometime during the day. Not too bad. They have the usual lead in spots when they play new songs. "New Music Alert" is one. To which I usually reply (yes, to the radio), "This is gonna suck."
Most times it does. I do like the new Theory of a Deadman. Cracks me up. And of course I just went blank on the name of it.
That station did introduce me to "The Headstones". What a cool band. I searched high and low and could only occasionally find signs that they did in fact exist. Record stores in Texas, Oklahoma, Mississippi. iTunes. Nada.
However soon after I got back in April I was sitting in my room and checked iTunes one more time.
There they were! A bonanza. What to choose? Where to start?
I opted for "Greatest Fits". I don't think there is a bad cut on the disc. Three Angels, Smile and Wave, Unsound, Tweeter and the Monkey Man, Cubically Contained.
Thanks eh!
So, as I started out, really nada. I think about this thing all the time. Never seem inspired or motivated. It's always something "I'll do it later." "What's my password again?" "I wonder if Blogger is still in Russian?" So tonight after a 'fabulous' day I decided, "Screw it. I'm writting something even if it's long winded and boring."
So, I did.
It's almost 8 pm and the temp must be down to 90. So it's not too bad out. Kinda hard to type in the dark though.
So, yes here we are halfway through the third trip to Afghanistan. Yee Haw.
Do I like it? Enjoy it? Hell no. It sucks bilge water. But the money is OK. Yes just "OK" far from great.
Whose brilliant idea was it to go to war with no fucking alcohol?!?! Can someone explain that one?
The government could have saved a lot of money. Folks might have been willing to come over here for less. (Not me. I'm practically a Peace Corp volunteer.)
Hell, they could have made a lot of money. Bunch of knuckle dragging contractors lopping around with more money that a lot of them know what to do with. Re-coop some of that investment Sam!
Misbehavior? No doubt. But this place is crawling with MP's that are auditioning to be small town cops somewhere. Keep them busy doing something other than running radar traps on the perimeter road!
Top legal speed on this dump is 40 KPH. Do the ciphering... 24 MPH!!! Most of the base is 20 KPH! I do understand a lot of the low speed streets. Some of the roads are bad and pedestrians are every where.
Pedestrians are STOOPIT!
This is a seriously multinational place. Some folks seem to be worse than others. Americans are about as bad as anyone else that steps out into the streets without looking.
I won't point any fingers at out neighbors to the north but geeeeeze! And get around that coffee shop? You better have a foot on the brake. (I do have to give them a break there. Tim Hortons coffee and donuts.... mmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!)
Gonna miss them when they go, well, I'll miss Tim Hortons and the cute Canadian girls with impossibly white teeth.
The Canadians also have a radio station simulcast here out of Ottawa, I think it is. Nicki Sixx does a late night show that I hear sometime during the day. Not too bad. They have the usual lead in spots when they play new songs. "New Music Alert" is one. To which I usually reply (yes, to the radio), "This is gonna suck."
Most times it does. I do like the new Theory of a Deadman. Cracks me up. And of course I just went blank on the name of it.
That station did introduce me to "The Headstones". What a cool band. I searched high and low and could only occasionally find signs that they did in fact exist. Record stores in Texas, Oklahoma, Mississippi. iTunes. Nada.
However soon after I got back in April I was sitting in my room and checked iTunes one more time.
There they were! A bonanza. What to choose? Where to start?
I opted for "Greatest Fits". I don't think there is a bad cut on the disc. Three Angels, Smile and Wave, Unsound, Tweeter and the Monkey Man, Cubically Contained.
Thanks eh!
So, as I started out, really nada. I think about this thing all the time. Never seem inspired or motivated. It's always something "I'll do it later." "What's my password again?" "I wonder if Blogger is still in Russian?" So tonight after a 'fabulous' day I decided, "Screw it. I'm writting something even if it's long winded and boring."
So, I did.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Wow! The damn thing is still here and still works.
Amazing.
Well, no fancy build up this time.
It's Round Three in Afghanistan. Yup, I keep coming back to the trough that tried to take me out the first time.
The subsequent trips have been to much lower altitudes with much better attitudes.
Now that I got offa my ass and navigated through the Croation Google Blogger instructions maybe I'll get this thing rolling again.
Tonight is a seeing off party for a pilot friend. For a late twenties early thirties girl she's a rare bird. Only chick pilot I know currently. And, most likely the only one I've ever met that can toss around Corporate names, Government entities, NGO's and 'off the beaten path' countries with the Old Guys. Chad?! Who the hell goes to work in Chad?
Well, no fancy build up this time.
It's Round Three in Afghanistan. Yup, I keep coming back to the trough that tried to take me out the first time.
The subsequent trips have been to much lower altitudes with much better attitudes.
Now that I got offa my ass and navigated through the Croation Google Blogger instructions maybe I'll get this thing rolling again.
Tonight is a seeing off party for a pilot friend. For a late twenties early thirties girl she's a rare bird. Only chick pilot I know currently. And, most likely the only one I've ever met that can toss around Corporate names, Government entities, NGO's and 'off the beaten path' countries with the Old Guys. Chad?! Who the hell goes to work in Chad?
Friday, December 24, 2010
Now,
Now.
Now, I woke up this morning at the Faust Hotel
wearing some chicks tee shirt and smelling GOOD!
(Twiddle with guitar here)
Now, I aint been all the way 'round the world
but I been on 6 continents bout 8 times
Now, I don't care which one of those rocks your're standing on, waking up in the morning wearing some chicks Christiaan Audigier tee shirt and smelling like Red Door perfume is a cause for alarm!
(Launch major 12 bar with swampy sexy turn around here)
Now, I woke up this morning at the Faust Hotel
wearing some chicks tee shirt and smelling GOOD!
(Twiddle with guitar here)
Now, I aint been all the way 'round the world
but I been on 6 continents bout 8 times
Now, I don't care which one of those rocks your're standing on, waking up in the morning wearing some chicks Christiaan Audigier tee shirt and smelling like Red Door perfume is a cause for alarm!
(Launch major 12 bar with swampy sexy turn around here)
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Random Sameness
"... sitting in an
Oklahoma motel room
listening to
Ray Wylie Hubbard
Live At Cibolo Creek
and wond'ring
if Old Bill was there.
Bill he was my mentor
Taught me a thing or three
about these damned old planes
The night he died I was in Korea
I called home to Texas
Sobbing like a child
Still I ride by Cibolo Creek
Boarded up and closed
Remember a thing or three
In my mind I can see
Bill's motorcycle
perched under the
old live oak trees
I remember a thing or three
In my mind I can see
Bill's lanky frame
leaned against a timber frame
listening to future fame
I remember a thing or three
... sitting in an
Oklahoma motel room
listening to
Ray Wylie Hubbard
Live At Cibolo Creek
and wond'ring
if Old Bill was there."
Oklahoma motel room
listening to
Ray Wylie Hubbard
Live At Cibolo Creek
and wond'ring
if Old Bill was there.
Bill he was my mentor
Taught me a thing or three
about these damned old planes
The night he died I was in Korea
I called home to Texas
Sobbing like a child
Still I ride by Cibolo Creek
Boarded up and closed
Remember a thing or three
In my mind I can see
Bill's motorcycle
perched under the
old live oak trees
I remember a thing or three
In my mind I can see
Bill's lanky frame
leaned against a timber frame
listening to future fame
I remember a thing or three
... sitting in an
Oklahoma motel room
listening to
Ray Wylie Hubbard
Live At Cibolo Creek
and wond'ring
if Old Bill was there."
Saturday, November 21, 2009
When You Get The Urge
When you get the urge to, "Do something!" to help United States Service Members, I have a suggestion.
Send your Care Package to:
Col. James R. Griffith
Chaplain U.S. Army
Cheif of Pastoral Services
Landstuhl Regional Medical Center
Wounded Warrior Medical Management Center
CMR 402
APO AE 09180
When you think of a Medevac (Medical Evacuation) you may think of Blackhawk helicopters swooping into a live fire zone or a F.O.B. (Forward Operating Base) and whisking away wounded wariors.
That happens all to often but the scene isn't always replete with the thunder and gore of a Hollywood movie.
Also, that may be just the first step.
A MEDEVAC could stem from an illness that the base hospital isn't equiped to diagnose or treat.
What happens then, when the wounds are too severe or the illness is out of the realm of local hands?
The next leg of that MEDEVAC may land at Ramstein Airbase and care continued at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center.
L.R.M.C. is a huge nine wing hospital with, I imagine, all of the services one could imagine.
One service you might not think about, I didn't, is the Chaplains Closet.
Think about it. You get MEDEVACed with nothing but the clothes and gear on your back. You land in Germany and get treated. Let's say that you are ambulatory. Maybe even out an patient.
Now what? You're stuck in the clothes that you left the field in. It's doubtful that you have shampoo, a toothbrush, socks, clean underwear, clothes, etc.
All you (and everyone within sniffing distance of you) want is a hot shower, clean clothes and a bed.
If you're lucky, HN2 Ramon will lead you to the Chaplains Closet, hand you a small duffell bag and get you set up.
I began to have respiratory trouble the day I arrived in theater. Immediately upon arrival, I hyperventilated. I figured, big deal, nerves, new place, big dose of the unknown, etc, etc, etc.
It happened several more times until I finally lost count after a couple of weeks.
Then I got what we called the Dirt Flu. I think I told you about it. The air is lousy with dust and burning trash and diesel fumes and Jet Fuel fumes and who knows what else.
I began to get shorter and shorter of breath. Another bout of funk settled into my head and lungs. Just laying down closed off my airflow. Even bending over to tie my shoes or fuel an auxilary tank knocked the wind out of me.
The sudden losses of O2 would bring about a state of panic that I'd struggle to keep in check long enough to get a whisp of air into my lungs.
The worst part is waking up in the pitch black of my little bunk space and gasping for air completely disoriented.
Several nights ago I was walking back from dinner, metering my breath with my steps, muttering about MAYBE going to the camp clinic, LATER.
When I came to the right turn that would take me to the pick-up point for my ride to work, I kept walking, straight to the clinic.
A young Doctor asked what was wrong and I gasped, "I can't breath." He took me seriously. Less than five minutes later he said, "Get in the truck, we're going to the hospital."
I say several nights ago because I'm not really sure when it was. It's all kind of blurry.
We went to the ER, Exams, IV, Meds, Xrays, CAT Scans, to a Ward, Vitals checked every four hours, more Meds, Night?, Day?, visitors?, questions, KC-135, flight to Ramstein, L.R.M.C....
Now, it's Sunday morning. I'm in a little hotel in Landstuhl. I have an appointment of sorts for Monday morning. The last Doctor I talked to said that he anticipates pronouncing me "Fit to Fly" but to where and how?
I expect that I'll be on some sort of flight Home Monday or Tuesday.
When I know, you'll know.
Just remember, "When you get the urge..."
Send your Care Package to:
Col. James R. Griffith
Chaplain U.S. Army
Cheif of Pastoral Services
Landstuhl Regional Medical Center
Wounded Warrior Medical Management Center
CMR 402
APO AE 09180
When you think of a Medevac (Medical Evacuation) you may think of Blackhawk helicopters swooping into a live fire zone or a F.O.B. (Forward Operating Base) and whisking away wounded wariors.
That happens all to often but the scene isn't always replete with the thunder and gore of a Hollywood movie.
Also, that may be just the first step.
A MEDEVAC could stem from an illness that the base hospital isn't equiped to diagnose or treat.
What happens then, when the wounds are too severe or the illness is out of the realm of local hands?
The next leg of that MEDEVAC may land at Ramstein Airbase and care continued at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center.
L.R.M.C. is a huge nine wing hospital with, I imagine, all of the services one could imagine.
One service you might not think about, I didn't, is the Chaplains Closet.
Think about it. You get MEDEVACed with nothing but the clothes and gear on your back. You land in Germany and get treated. Let's say that you are ambulatory. Maybe even out an patient.
Now what? You're stuck in the clothes that you left the field in. It's doubtful that you have shampoo, a toothbrush, socks, clean underwear, clothes, etc.
All you (and everyone within sniffing distance of you) want is a hot shower, clean clothes and a bed.
If you're lucky, HN2 Ramon will lead you to the Chaplains Closet, hand you a small duffell bag and get you set up.
I began to have respiratory trouble the day I arrived in theater. Immediately upon arrival, I hyperventilated. I figured, big deal, nerves, new place, big dose of the unknown, etc, etc, etc.
It happened several more times until I finally lost count after a couple of weeks.
Then I got what we called the Dirt Flu. I think I told you about it. The air is lousy with dust and burning trash and diesel fumes and Jet Fuel fumes and who knows what else.
I began to get shorter and shorter of breath. Another bout of funk settled into my head and lungs. Just laying down closed off my airflow. Even bending over to tie my shoes or fuel an auxilary tank knocked the wind out of me.
The sudden losses of O2 would bring about a state of panic that I'd struggle to keep in check long enough to get a whisp of air into my lungs.
The worst part is waking up in the pitch black of my little bunk space and gasping for air completely disoriented.
Several nights ago I was walking back from dinner, metering my breath with my steps, muttering about MAYBE going to the camp clinic, LATER.
When I came to the right turn that would take me to the pick-up point for my ride to work, I kept walking, straight to the clinic.
A young Doctor asked what was wrong and I gasped, "I can't breath." He took me seriously. Less than five minutes later he said, "Get in the truck, we're going to the hospital."
I say several nights ago because I'm not really sure when it was. It's all kind of blurry.
We went to the ER, Exams, IV, Meds, Xrays, CAT Scans, to a Ward, Vitals checked every four hours, more Meds, Night?, Day?, visitors?, questions, KC-135, flight to Ramstein, L.R.M.C....
Now, it's Sunday morning. I'm in a little hotel in Landstuhl. I have an appointment of sorts for Monday morning. The last Doctor I talked to said that he anticipates pronouncing me "Fit to Fly" but to where and how?
I expect that I'll be on some sort of flight Home Monday or Tuesday.
When I know, you'll know.
Just remember, "When you get the urge..."
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Back on line!!!
So, let's try a couple of lines...
Hello
"Hello Mutha
hello Fatha
here I am in
Doha, Qatar
How'd I get here
and where am I going?
Don't ask me 'cause
I not be knowing..."
No? Not so much?
How about...
"The Whole Lotta Nada
now coming to you from
a non-existant airbase
in an undisclosed country.
Land of the sand
Camel Spiders
and War Fighters..."
Or...
"Off the reservation"?
"Down Range"?
"I've lost my fucking mind!"?
We may be onto something THERE!!!
OK, ok, ok...
I do have to be a little nutZ.
I rolled out of Brightledge on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Headed to San Antonio Int'l Airport. Dropped the Camaro at Avis Rental. Boarded a CRJ, in 1st Class. Didn't even realize a CRJ HAD a 1st Class.
Sometime after dark we landed Washington Dulles. It had been nearly 20 years since I'd been there so a quick and easy terminal change was welcome.
The Qatar Air gate was easy as well and the Virgin Airways lounge was close by. Why does free beer seem to taste better?
Then, things went to full blown, "WOW!!!"
As jaded as I am it takes a real punch for an airplane to impress me. Lemme tell ya what, the Boeing 777 Dreamliner did it.
In no time I was sipping champagne in a seat with more settings than I could imagine.
The whole thing was a little unreal.
I was strapped into a piece of soon to be airborne sculpture. All set for a Trans-Atlantic night. About to get the first stamp in a freshly renewed passport. And, it was a one way ticket.
Nothing unusual about that right?
The night went by in a cozy blur. One glass of champagne a hot meal a cold beer a movie and I was out.
The sun was shining on an unfamiliar land when I woke. Then, we flew into another sunset.
That did seem a little odd. We landed in Doha at six p.m. local and it was already dark. Seemed odd.
I cleared customs and immigration and stepped out into a muggy darkness. There, a fellow stood with a sign full of names. All of them were crossed off except mine. That felt a little like an episode of "The Amazing Race" and I was the last to arrive.
We loaded up in an appropriatley black Suburban and sped off. Eventually we came to a check point. Our first stop of many requied to gain entry to the post.
We arrived at a building that turned out to be home for the next day or so.
Quarters were 8 man rooms with bunk beds and the requisite itchy green wool blankets. Turns out they're not wool anymore but they perfectly replicated the itchiness!
And good god was it COLD in there. Apparently that helps keep germs and bugs at bay. It was so cold I got up at 2 a.m. and went outside to a picnic table.
Anyway, a day and a half trapped on a strange base culiminated in a 10 p.m. Show for a 2 a.m. Go. (We were to show up for our connecting flight 3 hours ahead of the scheduled departure time: Show/ Go.)
Turns out that schedules mean shit. I think it was 4 a.m. before we launched.
OH, and that glorious flight on the Dreamliner. Yeah, forget about it. The second leg of the trip I was strapped into a side facing web seat in the back of a C130 with 70 or so of my newest closest friends and three pallets full of gear.
Gratefully, I can sleep sitting up.
The sun came up while I slept. The airplane landed. The ramp lowered enough for a forklift to get the pallets out and the Crew Chief said, "Get Out!"
We did and the C130 left.
Where am I? I'm right where the Crew Chief left me.
Its a dirty dusty dry hell that alternates between hotter 'n hell and colder 'n shit. The wind blows so hard it makes Texas seem tame. It's full of work and rules and no booze. In fact, that's Rule Number One: No Beer. "You will be denied the one thing that could make this 'Paradise' palatable."
Those of you that are actually reading may have noticed that I didn't answer the question. Well, I'm not certain but I think there is a rule that says I can't tell you. Like I said, I'm not sure but I'm gonna err on the side of caution for now.
So, "First Former Mrs Simpson", there ya have it. Your first installment of, "What it's like there." here.
Wherever the hell it is. I swear I saw Scissor Tailed Fly Catchers today so, I'm a little suspicious...
Hello
"Hello Mutha
hello Fatha
here I am in
Doha, Qatar
How'd I get here
and where am I going?
Don't ask me 'cause
I not be knowing..."
No? Not so much?
How about...
"The Whole Lotta Nada
now coming to you from
a non-existant airbase
in an undisclosed country.
Land of the sand
Camel Spiders
and War Fighters..."
Or...
"Off the reservation"?
"Down Range"?
"I've lost my fucking mind!"?
We may be onto something THERE!!!
OK, ok, ok...
I do have to be a little nutZ.
I rolled out of Brightledge on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Headed to San Antonio Int'l Airport. Dropped the Camaro at Avis Rental. Boarded a CRJ, in 1st Class. Didn't even realize a CRJ HAD a 1st Class.
Sometime after dark we landed Washington Dulles. It had been nearly 20 years since I'd been there so a quick and easy terminal change was welcome.
The Qatar Air gate was easy as well and the Virgin Airways lounge was close by. Why does free beer seem to taste better?
Then, things went to full blown, "WOW!!!"
As jaded as I am it takes a real punch for an airplane to impress me. Lemme tell ya what, the Boeing 777 Dreamliner did it.
In no time I was sipping champagne in a seat with more settings than I could imagine.
The whole thing was a little unreal.
I was strapped into a piece of soon to be airborne sculpture. All set for a Trans-Atlantic night. About to get the first stamp in a freshly renewed passport. And, it was a one way ticket.
Nothing unusual about that right?
The night went by in a cozy blur. One glass of champagne a hot meal a cold beer a movie and I was out.
The sun was shining on an unfamiliar land when I woke. Then, we flew into another sunset.
That did seem a little odd. We landed in Doha at six p.m. local and it was already dark. Seemed odd.
I cleared customs and immigration and stepped out into a muggy darkness. There, a fellow stood with a sign full of names. All of them were crossed off except mine. That felt a little like an episode of "The Amazing Race" and I was the last to arrive.
We loaded up in an appropriatley black Suburban and sped off. Eventually we came to a check point. Our first stop of many requied to gain entry to the post.
We arrived at a building that turned out to be home for the next day or so.
Quarters were 8 man rooms with bunk beds and the requisite itchy green wool blankets. Turns out they're not wool anymore but they perfectly replicated the itchiness!
And good god was it COLD in there. Apparently that helps keep germs and bugs at bay. It was so cold I got up at 2 a.m. and went outside to a picnic table.
Anyway, a day and a half trapped on a strange base culiminated in a 10 p.m. Show for a 2 a.m. Go. (We were to show up for our connecting flight 3 hours ahead of the scheduled departure time: Show/ Go.)
Turns out that schedules mean shit. I think it was 4 a.m. before we launched.
OH, and that glorious flight on the Dreamliner. Yeah, forget about it. The second leg of the trip I was strapped into a side facing web seat in the back of a C130 with 70 or so of my newest closest friends and three pallets full of gear.
Gratefully, I can sleep sitting up.
The sun came up while I slept. The airplane landed. The ramp lowered enough for a forklift to get the pallets out and the Crew Chief said, "Get Out!"
We did and the C130 left.
Where am I? I'm right where the Crew Chief left me.
Its a dirty dusty dry hell that alternates between hotter 'n hell and colder 'n shit. The wind blows so hard it makes Texas seem tame. It's full of work and rules and no booze. In fact, that's Rule Number One: No Beer. "You will be denied the one thing that could make this 'Paradise' palatable."
Those of you that are actually reading may have noticed that I didn't answer the question. Well, I'm not certain but I think there is a rule that says I can't tell you. Like I said, I'm not sure but I'm gonna err on the side of caution for now.
So, "First Former Mrs Simpson", there ya have it. Your first installment of, "What it's like there." here.
Wherever the hell it is. I swear I saw Scissor Tailed Fly Catchers today so, I'm a little suspicious...
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