One of the items in the meme I posted on 12 January asked if I had ever been to rehab and I said kinda. Here is the story. We were in Seal Beach dropping off our three unused weapons after the “shock and awe” portion of OIF. In the course of the evening, I consumed many Irish Carbombs and pitchers of Coors light with my buddy. A lot of patriotic folk were buying us booze. I puked in the duty van that I had been put in by the MPA and the DCA. The next mornig, I was still drunk enough that I passed out cleaning it up. I got a three day stint in Alcohol Impact for my troubles. That’s how!
Some of my boys(and 1 girl) decided to participate in the Guam Gear race number 9. I got roped into being thier support driver. That made me the all purpose water/food/first aid guy. We had a post race party at our house after the official one winded down. The girl I am now dating called and she came over as well. She has repeatedly told me that she likes honest people, but all the folks that were there had the potential to be too much honesty at once. The 1 girl(Q) had been drinking a good bit, but in her defense, we all had. When the girl I am dating, Ms. L for short, got there, she was greeted by a bunch of Hull Techs that had been drinking and partying for a good bit of hours. Q decided to engage Ms. L in conversation and it turned into 20 questions. Roommate redirected Q on question number four. Honestly, I was expecting the worst. Ms. L turned to me and said, “I like her. She doesn’t bullshit.” That was doubly hillarious because Ms. L has used two or fewer cuss words since I knew her, and some of Q’s questions were a little bit direct. All in all, it was a good week.
As some of you may know, the navy’s advancement list came out shortly ago. For all the brand new E-4s, there is a class they must sit through, called PO Indoc. The First Class Mess generally handles this. I volunteered to instruct “The Petty Officer’s Place in Naval History.” It is the last unit and designed to make them proud to be Petty Officers. I realized today what kind of noncom I am. There are the good, the bad, and the other. I was rocking out to Trent Tomlinson in my truck as I finished my lunch and one of my “sea sons” came over to BS with me until the class resumed. There are some PO1’s nobody wants to go near. We had a barbecue this weekend and a bunch of my roommate’s sea children were present. As we meandered into the lobby all of the HTs there came over to shoot the breeze for a minute. The fact that a dozen-ish brand new HT3’s aren’t afraid to come over and talk to me made me feel pretty good. I guess and hope that makes me one of the good HT1s, in the model of Sergeant Big Tobacco, whose blog is apparently defunct.
One of the many burdens of military service is seeing good men die. I was going to post a memorial Day poem, but that seems trite. As I write this, I am seeing the faces of men from my hometown, and men from my “A” school that are KIA. One of my best buddies from Great Lakes, IL at Service School Command was among the KIA on the USS Cole. I wept for his family and sent a letter to his Mom. That was one of the hardest letters I ever wrote, as I met his family when they came to visit. He has joined the ranks of “those who have gone before to defend freedom and democracy around the world”. On second thought, here is a link to a poem poem that means much to me.
I need a reason to workout beyond keeping my job. When I took the friendly bet in the previous post, I figured that would give me 6 weeks of umph. For my three loyal readers, I intend to track my progress. My starting weight is 221 pounds, with a goal of 194. The calisthenics looked a lot easier in the book. I went into the gym today and I figured I would plug my Ipod into my ears and ignore everybody. I was using a 4 pound or an 11 pound medicine ball for the exercises that required weight bearing. I was the only guy doing calisthenic exercises. On the fifth set of medicine ball woodchoppers, I wanted to say forget it. I managed to force my body to complete its mision. During the workout, everything was hurting the way it should(quads burning during squats, etc). When I left the gym, I stopped briefly to shoot the breeze with a shipmate. When I went to walk down the stairs, one of my legs buckled. Thus far, the Ranger prep workout that inspired this bet is sufficiently challenging. I am going to substitute walking my dobie while I wear a weight vest for ruck marching, as I am not planning to go to Ranger School and I am too old for NSW. The purpose here is mainly to train past my goal. As mentioned in the previous post, if I can pass a Spec Ops test, my semi-annual Navy PRT should be just another PT day. HOO-YAH!
One of the BMs I work with has decided he wants to leave the navy when his hitch is up and apply for Army Ranger School. I applaud him because he is not trying to weasel his way out. He wants to stay his four and leave with an Honorable Discharge.
I told him that I could probably get in shape for RIP in 6 weeks. Our friendly bet is that if he wins, I will give him The Special Ops Workout Book. If I win, he will buy dinner one night.
I figure that if I can pass a Ranger PT test, a Navy PRT will be pretty easy.
Y’all are probably wondering where the heck I’ve been. I have been stuck on delinquent study for a bit to finish bringing my quals up to par. I have finally got all that up to snuff. We were also preparing for a big bad inspection by anal engineer types. It got pushed out some because more necessary tasks came down the pipeline.
We are feeling the crunch in Uncle Sugar’s Yacht Club also. A lot of transfers and bonuses got poo-pooed. Many of my people are looking intently into transfers to other services. I personally was considering the Army Warrant Officer Program for a minute or two. Some say a degree is required, some don’t think it is. I think I would have qualified due to experience for some of the technical fields. I decided to stay Navy.
My roommate and I decided to quit dorking around on the fitness front, get on the bus, snd stay fit, as opposed to panicking and taking extreme measures once every six months. We shall see how that goes.