That’s the face of contentment that only coffee can bring.
Last weekend, Larry and I received free dinner buffet coupons to a brand new resort casino here in town, Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville. It’s a sprawling high-rise hotel on the river with a tropical theme, smoking, and gambling. Over Christmas, my family went to eat at their swanky restaurant. Well, they also sent us each $10 in free gambling money, so we enjoyed their crab legs, green-lipped mussels, and complimentary wine until we could crab no more, then gambled our free $10 and left. Thanks for the amazing evening out, Jimmy Buffet! It indeed changed both attitude and latitude. Even though we still remained in North 32. Sure as hell beats North 48. Where Larry is right now, for two weeks. He had to go back to Minot to inspect the base. Oh how we move up in the world, then return to where we were. Luckily, only temporarily to remind him how utter crap the winters are in Minot.
SECAF. I went to go hear the Secretary of the Air Force speak this week on base. Before the speaking event, my Director of Operations in my squadron uttered those seven awful, awful words that nobody in the Air Force (or military) wants to hear: “Hey, what are you doin’ right now?” Of course, I had scheduled some furniture to be delivered between two and three p.m., and the SECAF’s speech may have run over into that time frame, and then I was going to get my hair colored (girl dem roots!) so maybe I could have sneaked out early if… Yes, all that ran through my mind because on the spot taskers have such a grand, spectral range, from vacuuming the building & taking out the trash, to pain in the (t)ass-kers like planning a change of command ceremony (I’ve done that twice. The food was good). Of course, being that a major was about to give me a tasker, my scheduled is clear. Anyone of lesser esteem and I would have said no way man. “I’m not working on much right now, what is it, sir?” “I need you to ask a question to the Madame Secretary today, if there is a lull in questioning.” As with most celebrities, dignitaries or the like, when they “open the floor for questions”, you’d better have them rapid fire. And it’s SO phony, too; we had an 18-year old airman (or airlady if you will) ask about information really only privy to Colonels and commanders. Super phony. Anyway, the approved question I was given to ask was poorly composed and redundant. Luckily there wasn’t enough time for my question. I didn’t want to embarrass the Second Bomb Wing, either. I was really just doing everyone a favor. Yep.
I suppose when people who are lofty and far above us all do these speaking engagements, you pay a little more attention when you hear the news or leadership talking about the Madame Secretary. Your ears perk up just a little bit and you care a little more. That whole “name with a face” type thing. She was here at the base because of that ridiculous scandal with the missile officers and their cheating. I can’t say I feel bad for missileers; they never deploy and they have a strict, predictable schedule. They sit around in climate controlled comfort and get all the time in the world to crank out a Master’s degree. Plus, their commitment is only like, three years, as opposed to aviator’s six or nine-year commitment. Stop whining. Free masters in an air-conditioned bunker with showers and you get to look cool by wearing OUR flight suits, even though you don’t fly. Flight. Suit. Pssh.
CRAWFISH. Went out with my neighbors last night. They ordered twenty-five pounds of crawfish and I learned how to crack them for tail meat. This included eating some of the yellow goopy stuff, which I think was brain matter. That’s so metal. I ate crawfish brains. Know what else is pretty metal? Dropping 4,000 lbs of dumb bombs and a fancy CBU last week from a few miles above the earth. Desert lizards don’t stand a chance against my steel.