Part Two
The departure from Athens was much less exciting.
Of course, by then I was an old hand at this.
Yeah, sure.
I can’t even convince myself of that all these years later.
The first leg, Athens to Frankfurt, I met a woman from Athens.
During our chat she told me about attempts to build a subway line
in Athens to relieve the traffic congestion.
Trouble was, every shovel full of dirt revealed more artifacts and
that caused delay after delay.
It seems the project was more of and archeological dig than a
Public Works project.
The arrival in Frankfurt lacked the drama and trauma of the first visit.
We entered through a jet way instead of deplaning on the ramp.
There were plenty of machine gun toting police inside but no gauntlet.
No time for a side trip to Dr Mueller’s. (If you have to ask, don’t.)
Frankfurt to New York.
I sat next to a silent guy. He didn’t say a word until we were nearly home. The Flight Attendant came around and he ordered, “Two Viskey’s.”
Then he asked for two more and put them on my tray table. (?)
We began to try to talk. He spoke very little English and as it happens I speak no Russian.
He was on his way to NYC. He had a subway map and that was it.
No one was to be waiting for him at the airport. He had some destination.
He showed me on the map where it was and how he would get there.
He showed me pictures of his wife and kids ‘back home’.
Another Soul in pursuit of the American Dream.
I often wonder what ever became of him.
Back in CONUS (Continental United States) it was dark, raining and cold.
Bags in hand I made my way to the rental car counter.
The rental counter was always like roulette. You just never knew what you’d land on.
This time I drew a Subaru Outback Station Wagon, Forrest Green. Yee Haw.
‘Where’s the light switch? Where’s the windshield wiper control? What’s that noise? Oh, rear windshield wiper. How did I turn that on? Where am I? Where am I going?’
I just started driving, glancing at a map without a real point of reference for my location or destination. I recall being ‘pretty sure’ of my direction.
The rain diminished and increased as the miles clicked by. Trouble was, I didn’t know how to adjust the wipers! Each attempt to match the tempo of the wipers to the rainfall resulted in some other system being activated. I finally gave up and just adjusted speed to visibility. That worked until the rain stopped. I had no idea how I had activated the rear wiper in the first place and less idea how to make it stop.
I made it to the Wilmington area but without a local map or a hotel reservation. I tried several times to call the guy on station. Answering machines picked up at the hangar and at his home. I was beginning to see a pattern here.
I pulled into a motel and secured a room. The girl at the front desk gave me directions to the room. I was already two steps ahead. I had a room AND directions to get there.
Back in the Subaru, I rounded the corner of the building and what did I see?
Yup, the airport. The RIGHT airport. Turned out, I could see the hangar from my room.
Wilmington was OK.
The guy on station was interesting, an active member of the “Society for Creative Anachronism”. Seems to me he was also studying. He was already on his way off of the hangar deck before he racked up the scars to show for his time there.
There was a neat bar down from the motel. Decked out in a WWII motif. Sand bags and artifacts/ memorabilia everywhere.
One night we went to the local Holiday Inn for karaoke. And, NO, I did not. I can still proudly say that I have never participated in karaoke (in any English speaking country).
There was one guy that was a real ‘stand-out’. Bad rug and all, belting out “Old Time Rock and Roll”.
Next stop, Andrews AFB Maryland, Thanks Giving, JFK’s Air Force One and Michael Myers. Until then, “… gimme that old time rock and roll, yeah!”
Showing posts with label BASI. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BASI. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
True Stories From The Fabled Road
Part One.
After a year at NAS Dallas I applied for and was tapped out as a "Rover".
'Red Rover, Red Rover, Come on over...'
'Over' to where? That varied by the moment. Sometimes, I would learn, plans would change while I was en route and the people at my destination would know before I got there that plans had changed.
It all started simply enough. My then soon to be new boss M2 told me repeatedly, "David, I'll keep ya in the States until you get used to living out of a suitcase. Then, if I need ya, I'll send ya overseas."
Fair Enough. I was anxious to go OCONUS (Outside Continental U.S.) but was ready to pay the dues.
One week before I was to leave Dallas M2 called, "David, I hate to do this but would you mind going to Athens Greece for a week?"
"You know me Boss, team player and all..."
Away I went.
I had never been outside the borders of the USA. Mexican border towns don't count.
The first leg was DFW to Frankfurt Germany.
We landed and deplaned to a phalanx of Police and Soldiers complete with an APC aiming a machine gun towards air stair.
"Welcome OCONUS David."
A layover in a big strange airport with moon mat flooring. (Moon mat is the stuff you see in the galley area of heavy jets.)
On to Athens. I followed the herd into the airport. No hang-ups in Immigration or Customs and nobody I knew waiting on the other side.
I learned right then and there what the phrase, "It's all Greek to me!" means.
I lingered in the terminal, looking for anyone looking for someone. Nobody in sight.
Somewhere I changed Dollars for Drachma and found a pay phone. I didn't know if the damn thing was ringing or busy! I tried the hangar and home numbers for the guy on station without any answer.
I began to get a little antsy. I didn't have a hotel name or rental car reservation and my point of contact was pointless.
'What are ya gonna do now smart guy?'
"David?", my point of contact...
On to the Hotel Brazil. A small place in Glyfada. It was an apartment hotel without any features like a restaurant or bar.
They did have a fridge in the lobby where we drank Amstel and got acquainted. I can't recall the guy on stations name but I met R2 that night and he was staying in the Brazil as well.
My rental car was waiting out front the next morning. I followed R2 through the tangled streets of Athens to the hangar. Every stop light was like the start of a hare scramble. Motorcycles of every ilk worked their way to the front, then launched when the light changed as if the next stop light was the finish line.
We had a lot of work. The unwritten job description for Rovers reads, in part, "Ye shall do the dirty work that the guys on station don't want to do." So, I found myself sitting in the dirt floor of the hangar flow checking fuel nozzles.
I wont get too detailed about a mundane task such as flow checking fuel nozzles. Suffice to say, it causes a 'fuel fog'. Atomized jet fuel hangs in the air and you stink like diesel for a few showers to come.
As I sat in that stinking fog of volatile fumes, up walks a Greek Airman, smoking a cigarette, "How are you doing?"
'Welcome OCONUS.'
At night, I explored the area around the hotel on foot. I found a great bar. More Amstel with Expats from a number of English speaking countries. We threw a lot of darts, drank lots of beer and Tequila.
The funny thing was, I was wearing cowboy boots, Levis without tags, unmarked tee shirts and speaking English (it was all I knew at the time) yet when asked where I was from, the asker was always surprised to hear, "Texas.".
I heard, "I thought you were British." "I thought you were French." "I thought you were German." "I thought you were Russian." (Russian? French?!!!) Oh, well.
That Saturday I set off solo to see Poseidon's Temple. That's a mini post all it's own. Driving along that coast highway. The mountains. The sea. Then, to round the bend and see the ruins in the distance... all these years later, it still makes me take a breath. Just to think of all of the sailors that have approached, seen it in the distance and said, "I'm almost home.".
The next day, R2, Mrs R2 and I went to the Acropolis. (They really need an elevator!)
The one week stretched into two and we tried to keep it rolling but M2 was anxious to get me back across the pond.
Bummer.
Late Summer in Greece back to early Fall in Wilmington, Delaware.
Such is the life of a Rover Dog.
I may have posted this before. It's now the first in a series of road tales that I plan to continue for a while.
After a year at NAS Dallas I applied for and was tapped out as a "Rover".
'Red Rover, Red Rover, Come on over...'
'Over' to where? That varied by the moment. Sometimes, I would learn, plans would change while I was en route and the people at my destination would know before I got there that plans had changed.
It all started simply enough. My then soon to be new boss M2 told me repeatedly, "David, I'll keep ya in the States until you get used to living out of a suitcase. Then, if I need ya, I'll send ya overseas."
Fair Enough. I was anxious to go OCONUS (Outside Continental U.S.) but was ready to pay the dues.
One week before I was to leave Dallas M2 called, "David, I hate to do this but would you mind going to Athens Greece for a week?"
"You know me Boss, team player and all..."
Away I went.
I had never been outside the borders of the USA. Mexican border towns don't count.
The first leg was DFW to Frankfurt Germany.
We landed and deplaned to a phalanx of Police and Soldiers complete with an APC aiming a machine gun towards air stair.
"Welcome OCONUS David."
A layover in a big strange airport with moon mat flooring. (Moon mat is the stuff you see in the galley area of heavy jets.)
On to Athens. I followed the herd into the airport. No hang-ups in Immigration or Customs and nobody I knew waiting on the other side.
I learned right then and there what the phrase, "It's all Greek to me!" means.
I lingered in the terminal, looking for anyone looking for someone. Nobody in sight.
Somewhere I changed Dollars for Drachma and found a pay phone. I didn't know if the damn thing was ringing or busy! I tried the hangar and home numbers for the guy on station without any answer.
I began to get a little antsy. I didn't have a hotel name or rental car reservation and my point of contact was pointless.
'What are ya gonna do now smart guy?'
"David?", my point of contact...
On to the Hotel Brazil. A small place in Glyfada. It was an apartment hotel without any features like a restaurant or bar.
They did have a fridge in the lobby where we drank Amstel and got acquainted. I can't recall the guy on stations name but I met R2 that night and he was staying in the Brazil as well.
My rental car was waiting out front the next morning. I followed R2 through the tangled streets of Athens to the hangar. Every stop light was like the start of a hare scramble. Motorcycles of every ilk worked their way to the front, then launched when the light changed as if the next stop light was the finish line.
We had a lot of work. The unwritten job description for Rovers reads, in part, "Ye shall do the dirty work that the guys on station don't want to do." So, I found myself sitting in the dirt floor of the hangar flow checking fuel nozzles.
I wont get too detailed about a mundane task such as flow checking fuel nozzles. Suffice to say, it causes a 'fuel fog'. Atomized jet fuel hangs in the air and you stink like diesel for a few showers to come.
As I sat in that stinking fog of volatile fumes, up walks a Greek Airman, smoking a cigarette, "How are you doing?"
'Welcome OCONUS.'
At night, I explored the area around the hotel on foot. I found a great bar. More Amstel with Expats from a number of English speaking countries. We threw a lot of darts, drank lots of beer and Tequila.
The funny thing was, I was wearing cowboy boots, Levis without tags, unmarked tee shirts and speaking English (it was all I knew at the time) yet when asked where I was from, the asker was always surprised to hear, "Texas.".
I heard, "I thought you were British." "I thought you were French." "I thought you were German." "I thought you were Russian." (Russian? French?!!!) Oh, well.
That Saturday I set off solo to see Poseidon's Temple. That's a mini post all it's own. Driving along that coast highway. The mountains. The sea. Then, to round the bend and see the ruins in the distance... all these years later, it still makes me take a breath. Just to think of all of the sailors that have approached, seen it in the distance and said, "I'm almost home.".
The next day, R2, Mrs R2 and I went to the Acropolis. (They really need an elevator!)
The one week stretched into two and we tried to keep it rolling but M2 was anxious to get me back across the pond.
Bummer.
Late Summer in Greece back to early Fall in Wilmington, Delaware.
Such is the life of a Rover Dog.
I may have posted this before. It's now the first in a series of road tales that I plan to continue for a while.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
The Whole Lotta Nada
Both a play on "The Whole Enchilada" and a truth of sorts.
(Sub-titled, He has completely lost it and what's up with the parenthesis's?)
It's a Whole Lotta Nada because I don't really have a topic. I'm not currently doing anything interesting. That doesn't mean I wont go on and on about something!
Those that I've met and those that have had the 'misfortune' of meeting me know that I CAN Ramble, Babble, Repeat myself and generally go on for ever. More than once I've been admonished, "David, Please land the airplane." And, That's the truth. (I think there is supposed to be a raspberry at the end of that line.)
I only very recently stumbled off into this Blogosphere. (Is that the correct term? Did I spell it right? I need all the help I can get here.) It's all due to a fascination with Honduras and a sweet lady there that has been very gracious and tolerant of me. (Yes L.G. Blatant sucking up! I do want to thank you for your kindness though. That goes for you too B.B. Just as well get ya both at the same time and I doubt either will object to the company.)
If I haven't lost you completely already I should introduce myself. (I know that glazed look when I see it.)
My name is David. Currently a resident of San Antonio, TX. Actually, between Elmendorf and Floresville for you aficionado's of the Republic. I consider myself Natch-erlized. That may offend you Natives. My Mother and my oldest child were born here. Had documented kin at the Alamo. I've lived in Texas off and on since escaping (gasp) Oklahoma in 1984. BOOMER SOONER!!! While I'm upsetting Natives! Hey, Ya'll know I mean that in the best of rival ways! I decided a long time ago that I wanted to be in San Antonio if I couldn't be somewhere tropical. I LOVE it here. Food, folks, music. I have a brother here and my parents are right down the road.
I am an A&P mechanic. No, not the grocery A&P. An Airframe and Powerplant mechanic. I spend my work days bending, twisting, bruising, bleeding, contorting within various airplanes to inspect, repair and modify them. Enjoy the flight? Thank a mechanic! Yes, yes YES! Those guys in the front seat with the shiny suits are the best friggin' bus drivers in the world. (OK, Insert provisos here.) I do give them their due. The really good ones can, A. take a joke and B. acknowledge the disparities in prestige and salary. (You guys can have ALL the prestige just gimme the money!!! ;-) Who Me Bitter? No. Not at all. I had the grades and the opportunities to go that direction but as usual I made a short term sorta decision.
Being a wrench has afforded me opportunities that I couldn't have foreseen in Lawton, OK. I've been as far East as Mombasa, Kenya ("Roland aimed his Thompson gun, he didn't say a word" WZ) and as far West as Korea. Lotta points in between. Including three years in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, ("I was gambling in Havana, I took a little risk" WZ) thus the fascination with going back to Honduras.
With the exception of my two children the greatest thing in my life is my Fiance'. (Yes, I said, 'thing'. I do not think of women as things or possession's or chattel. So don't start. Just didn't have a better way to phrase it at the moment.) Anyway. We dated in high school and you can imagine how that worked out. 20 something years later I sent her an apologetic email. (Yeah the break-up was my fault! You didn't guess that already?) Asked her to pass my apology on to her parents as well. HALF AN HOUR LATER! I got a reply. It's been wide open ever since. WFO, as we say.
It is, I'm at a total loss, it's SOOOOOooooo great to be with a woman that grew up in the same town at the same time the same high school, etc, etc, et al! Something comes up, we have similiar perspectives. Not that we see everything exactly the same way. I guess being grounded in the same red clay helps. When I'm wrong, she'll say so. I generally defer. She's way smarter than me. (Better long term decisions. I.E. Bachelors, Master and Associates Degrees. In that order and that, to me is kinda funny for various reasons.) And, she puts up with me! She's the best "Glazer-Over" going! She does it with a smile. Even when I crank up the Zevon, or the Ely, or the Clapton, or the what the hell ever. If it bugs her, she wont hesitate to say so and I defer, see above. I've got a huge Warren Zevon poster hanging in the living room and she helped me find the right spot to hang it. Have I got it GREAT or what?!?! (It is tasteful and B&W and framed.)
Joe Ely, "Live at the Liberty Lunch" on the changer at the moment. If you're still here.
I promise, I'll pick topics and have something to say in the future. May even have some news someday. Let's write this one off to getting acquainted. Ya know, just between the two of us!
"donde esta mi amor... una noche como oy... y si ella lo vi lo mismo cielo que yo" JE
David
The Whole Lotta Nada
I just put several things in the "Labels" line. In the process something hit me. There is something of a family mystery surrounding one relative. ("Too Many Secrets" but one real mystery.) A certain Edwin Henry Riggs, born at FT Sam Houston in about 1914. I told ya I had roots here. Just a thought. It is the www after all.
(Sub-titled, He has completely lost it and what's up with the parenthesis's?)
It's a Whole Lotta Nada because I don't really have a topic. I'm not currently doing anything interesting. That doesn't mean I wont go on and on about something!
Those that I've met and those that have had the 'misfortune' of meeting me know that I CAN Ramble, Babble, Repeat myself and generally go on for ever. More than once I've been admonished, "David, Please land the airplane." And, That's the truth. (I think there is supposed to be a raspberry at the end of that line.)
I only very recently stumbled off into this Blogosphere. (Is that the correct term? Did I spell it right? I need all the help I can get here.) It's all due to a fascination with Honduras and a sweet lady there that has been very gracious and tolerant of me. (Yes L.G. Blatant sucking up! I do want to thank you for your kindness though. That goes for you too B.B. Just as well get ya both at the same time and I doubt either will object to the company.)
If I haven't lost you completely already I should introduce myself. (I know that glazed look when I see it.)
My name is David. Currently a resident of San Antonio, TX. Actually, between Elmendorf and Floresville for you aficionado's of the Republic. I consider myself Natch-erlized. That may offend you Natives. My Mother and my oldest child were born here. Had documented kin at the Alamo. I've lived in Texas off and on since escaping (gasp) Oklahoma in 1984. BOOMER SOONER!!! While I'm upsetting Natives! Hey, Ya'll know I mean that in the best of rival ways! I decided a long time ago that I wanted to be in San Antonio if I couldn't be somewhere tropical. I LOVE it here. Food, folks, music. I have a brother here and my parents are right down the road.
I am an A&P mechanic. No, not the grocery A&P. An Airframe and Powerplant mechanic. I spend my work days bending, twisting, bruising, bleeding, contorting within various airplanes to inspect, repair and modify them. Enjoy the flight? Thank a mechanic! Yes, yes YES! Those guys in the front seat with the shiny suits are the best friggin' bus drivers in the world. (OK, Insert provisos here.) I do give them their due. The really good ones can, A. take a joke and B. acknowledge the disparities in prestige and salary. (You guys can have ALL the prestige just gimme the money!!! ;-) Who Me Bitter? No. Not at all. I had the grades and the opportunities to go that direction but as usual I made a short term sorta decision.
Being a wrench has afforded me opportunities that I couldn't have foreseen in Lawton, OK. I've been as far East as Mombasa, Kenya ("Roland aimed his Thompson gun, he didn't say a word" WZ) and as far West as Korea. Lotta points in between. Including three years in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, ("I was gambling in Havana, I took a little risk" WZ) thus the fascination with going back to Honduras.
With the exception of my two children the greatest thing in my life is my Fiance'. (Yes, I said, 'thing'. I do not think of women as things or possession's or chattel. So don't start. Just didn't have a better way to phrase it at the moment.) Anyway. We dated in high school and you can imagine how that worked out. 20 something years later I sent her an apologetic email. (Yeah the break-up was my fault! You didn't guess that already?) Asked her to pass my apology on to her parents as well. HALF AN HOUR LATER! I got a reply. It's been wide open ever since. WFO, as we say.
It is, I'm at a total loss, it's SOOOOOooooo great to be with a woman that grew up in the same town at the same time the same high school, etc, etc, et al! Something comes up, we have similiar perspectives. Not that we see everything exactly the same way. I guess being grounded in the same red clay helps. When I'm wrong, she'll say so. I generally defer. She's way smarter than me. (Better long term decisions. I.E. Bachelors, Master and Associates Degrees. In that order and that, to me is kinda funny for various reasons.) And, she puts up with me! She's the best "Glazer-Over" going! She does it with a smile. Even when I crank up the Zevon, or the Ely, or the Clapton, or the what the hell ever. If it bugs her, she wont hesitate to say so and I defer, see above. I've got a huge Warren Zevon poster hanging in the living room and she helped me find the right spot to hang it. Have I got it GREAT or what?!?! (It is tasteful and B&W and framed.)
Joe Ely, "Live at the Liberty Lunch" on the changer at the moment. If you're still here.
I promise, I'll pick topics and have something to say in the future. May even have some news someday. Let's write this one off to getting acquainted. Ya know, just between the two of us!
"donde esta mi amor... una noche como oy... y si ella lo vi lo mismo cielo que yo" JE
David
The Whole Lotta Nada
I just put several things in the "Labels" line. In the process something hit me. There is something of a family mystery surrounding one relative. ("Too Many Secrets" but one real mystery.) A certain Edwin Henry Riggs, born at FT Sam Houston in about 1914. I told ya I had roots here. Just a thought. It is the www after all.
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