The weather this weekend was crappy so I did not get to ride my motorcycle as planned. Also, on Sunday morning the command surprised us with a three hour class on Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs). The class was intended to familiarize us with how to recognize and defeat roadside bombs, car bombs, booby traps and the like.
The class was actually pretty interesting. It was taught by a retired special ops soldier who is now a contractor specializing in hunting for and defeating these notorious weapons in Iraq. Brace yourself for some irony because it is coming up. The instructor -- are you ready for this? -- had one hand. That is right, we were taught a class on explosives by a one-handed man. Does that mean that he had valuable experience to pass-on or does that mean that he is exactly the person you DONT want to learn from? I dont know because he never mentioned how he came to be one-handed and none of us had the guts to ask.
I spent Sunday evening hanging out with Maltby and his girlfriend, Sarah. I was a little puzzled by their insistance that I come over for dinner but I couldnt resist a free meal. It turned out that the dinner was a pretext for a little belated birthday celebration. Sarah made a yummy cake that went very will with the beer and crab legs we had for dinner. She only put seven candles on the cake. I guess I have finally reached the age where people dont want to make the substantial investment needed to accurately reflect my age with candles. Oh well. It was a good cake and a nice thought.
I flew in the simulator on Monday. I did not fly at all on Tuesday or Wednesday. Rather, I took some of that time to stock the fridge and some to plan a route to fly on Thursday. There is so much going on right now that I doubt I will actually fly on Thursday.
I just got back from having some beers with a colleague at a local brew pub. (Hence the rambling nature of this blog entry). I had a good time sitting in the pub, in my flight suit, drinking well crafted micro brews and eating appetizers. That may not sound like a particularly exotic experience to those of you hailing from big cities but, to a guy who has been living in Daleville, it was the height of culture and sophistication. The only downside was that the CW2 I was drinking with somehow managed to get me to pay for all of the food and drinks. I guess I am still the WOJ.