Airline Terrorism

Fri, Dec 16: +4
Days Rated: 26
Total Ranking: 49
Average Day: 1.88 (+0.08)

Went to the gym in the morning and had an excellent workout. I switched to a total body heavy-duty style of training, and I set huge PRs (post-Army) in every exercise, even bench. Saw the PL, Lt. K there. Then I went home and packed my bag. I had to borrow a bigger bag from SGT Linck, who was actively cleaning up the room and doing loads of laundry. I left him with 2 tasks (lol) while I was gone…to clean the microwave and the fridge, and to wash the bathmat. I cleaned everything else in the room so we will see if he does it. Then Duckwitz drove me to the airport. A lot of my buddies were also flying home, so of course there was all sorts of rowdy behavior in the gate area. I wanted to go to the bar with Tiede and Matthews and get my drink on but I made the mistake of going through security first, and I didn’t realize that the Anchorage airport is a tiny place (nice though, with stuffed polar bears and 300 pound halibuts all over the place), so there was no alcohol for me. And there was none on the plane, since I sat nowhere near any of the Army personnel, so I didn’t feel like drinking alone. However, we made up for lost time once we got to the Seattle airport. I went to a bar while Matthews and Tiede fiddled around with their luggage. They told me the bar was closing, so I tried to order 4 beers at once so they’d have beer waiting for them, but then they said there was another place not far away that was still open. So we went over there. I had 6 20 ounce beers and a gin and tonic. Then we started acting rowdy. Other soldiers started coming to visit, although not old enough to drink (Hurst, Gill, etc) and Donica had a couple of beers with us. I spotted some kid walking around in his Class A’s, and yelled at him, “Hey, PFC, Get over here.” I remember his name was Peterson, and he was going to SWC. So of course we told him all sorts of horrible things, like “I hope you like swimming, wait till you see the gig pits.” and “You’re gonna die, new guy” and “We’ll see you in Alaska soon, you can be the new ammo bearer.” Then I drank some more, I think I did a shot or two, and went to the gate where we continued acting like mongoloids and giving our military a bad name. I needed a boarding pass from Chicago to NY, so I went to the counter and in a series of grunts and obscene noises told them what I wanted. This had about the same result as if I had been a savage from Borneo with a bone through his nose trying to communicate with a Wall Street businessman. Finally after about a half hour of me pointing, hooting, gibbering and spilling scraps of paper all over the counter and floor, they gave me what I wanted. I then boarded my plane, and promptly threw up into the provided bag, BEFORE THE PLANE STARTED MOVING, put my blanket over my head in shame and went to sleep for the entire flight. I somehow managed to catch my flight from Chicago to New York, where I met Jim. I saw myself in the mirror of the bathroom and noted that I looked like an unshaven, bleary-eyed vagrant. Jim and I took a cab back to his apartment. I took a shower and started drinking beers again, this time at a much slower rate.

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