You might be wondering: hey, what's it like living in a metal box 7,000 miles away from home, being forced to wear military uniforms at all times, prevented from drinking alcohol, working seven days a week, and sharing an installation with a sizeable civilian population for whom none of the restrictions apply and who live in actual apartments? And oh, yeah -- let's not forget about the rockets.
You can probably see where this is heading. It pretty much sucks.
I can clearly see the importance of having a mid-tour leave program to get folks out of this environment, even if just for a couple of weeks, so they can re-connect with the people and the lifestyle they are beginning to desperately miss.
I'm ready to go home, even if just for a short while.
It's baseball playoff time and football is in full swing. All baseball playoff games happen sometime in the middle of the night here, so only the most rabid fan would bother watching them. The early NFL games start here at 2000 hrs (soon to be 2100), so it is possible to watch some at your computer (we get Armed Forces Network through some brilliant software application on our machines) and, if you really care, stay up for the whole game. Forget the second games, which start at 2315. It's not the same as lying on the couch staring at the big flat-screen with a cold beer in hand. I miss that.
Sundays are the closest thing to a weekend we get, since the start of work is pushed off until 1200. Unfortunately, it is the only large enough block of time available to sleep in, do laundry, clean the CHU, and maybe catch a little sun. It's not the same as grabbing the fat Sunday morning newspaper from the front yard, reading through breakfast and then retiring to the couch to finish the paper and any sleep I might have skimped on the previous night. I miss that.
The food is pretty darn good here, but it's more like going to a school cafeteria every day and piling various stuff on plates and in bowls and then sitting amongst the masses to wolf it down before ambling back to the office to continue the grind. It's not the same as lording over a well-seasoned flank steak on the grill whilst sipping a cold beer, then sitting down with family to catch up on what is going on in the world. I miss that.
I enjoyed my brief foray into ultimate Frisbee (I'll resume next week) but it's a pickup game with a bunch of dudes I've never met, many of whom are close to half my age and totally lacking in any common social reference with which to engage in spirited B.S. It's not the same as jamming a dozen fellow boondogglers into a beach house in the OB for three days of golf, war stories, and alcoholic excess. I miss that.
The CHU is a relative luxury, since I don't have to share it as many lower ranking folks do. The bed, with two memory foam mattresses stacked on the cheap issue one, is very comfortable. I've got TV, tunes, and a refrigerator as well as the much-coveted personal bathroom. But it's a lonely place. It's not the same as a home with family, a bed shared with my favorite lady, a refrigerator that has beer in it, and a shower in which you can reach up to wash your hair without banging your elbows. I miss that.There's a lot more that I miss, but you get the point. My R&R is over Christmas, which is awesome. But it is still more than two months away.
At least the heat has finally given way to some very pleasant weather. I do not miss the cold.
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