Welcome to Paradise

BACK TO BACK.

After three times as many flights as first thought, I have arrived in Guam. I happened to be trapped on a crew with one of the more aggravating and boorish navigators to babysit in the squadron, so it was over thirty hours of fun (with an overnight stay in Alaska). We sit two feet from each other. And rarely leave the seat. I am a generous god. However, the same aforementioned moron threw my computer bag on the ground too hard out of the aircraft when we were unloading bags and broke the screen. $815 bucks and three weeks later, I have my computer back. & I bought an iPad Mini. Don’t judge.

We had a 7.1 magnitude earthquake off the coast of the island, 25 miles away. I was just chillin’ on the couch watching Louis C.K., relating more than usual, and feeling quite foul… & the house started shaking. I darted over the couch and into an interior closet. Dope. Earlier that day I had been in the control tower by the runway, 15 stories up. Thank god my shift was over just a couple hours prior. Heard it swayed pretty good, pants-shittingly awesome. There was no damage here: one of my tiki torches fell over. No tsunami threat either because Guam is surrounded by a big coral reef that acts as a wave breaker. Sucks for surfing. And if you lose your footing you end up with a sexy as hell black bruise on your butt, like me. Get some.

I got totally fried at the beach last Saturday, then went out to a beach-front bar with a bunch of bubbas. It reminds me of Coconuts in Cocoa Beach. Got shit haused on gin and tonics and was totally the “woo! Girl” at the bar. The live band was really good and had a really cute drummer, so as I left I gave him a big ol kiss on the cheek. The burns here turn into a super great tan. Guam is good, man. Hafa adai. I’ve also flown a few times. But mostly pulling duties up in the control tower.

So, five or so months to go. Overall, I’ve honestly never seen so many people act so ridiculously. From heinously inappropriate, sexist sing along songs (that were supposed to be taken out of Air Force functions), to blatant disregard for someone’s personal things… let’s just say I am NOT okay with waking up at 0500 on a Saturday to clean up my trashed yard because a mob decided to take everything off my porch and set it up in my front yard and party… when I wasn’t even home. (If I didn’t do this, the Commander would have been called and chewed out, and we would have been restricted in some fashion). I guess beer cans stuffed in my window sills & trash littered across the lawn is okay with these people because their wives usually clean up after them like babies. & I’ve never seen so many men who are angry drunks. I can’t grasp the concept of angry drunk. One guy even pisses the bed when he drinks. So instead of cutting out drinking, he actually bought a plastic bed liner. This shit’s eyebrow-raising. I didn’t have to deal with a lot of it on my last deployment with my previous squadron. Just saying. It’s a three-ring circus.

Que Syrah Syrah. Despite my personal pissed off vendetta against a few of the fratboy members, this weekend is Guam’s Wine Fest 2014. The entire squadron is headed out for a good time. I’m happy to report the ladies will be dressing to impress; it seems tough to get BUFF CHICKS to give it the ol’ freshman try. I helped one lady pick out a smart-looking party dress. Hopefully she will wear it, though! Better (underwater) photos coming soon, and stay tuned for SCUBA!

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