By lex, on June 5th, 2008
I was deeply engrossed in work this afternoon when Son Number One surreptitiously penetrated my vital area unobserved. I started when he spoke, and he smiled, asking if he’d frightened me.
I don’t frighten, I replied, with serene equanimity. Although occasionally I might startle.
But that’s not entirely true.
I’d label it perhaps more apprehension than fear, but my very first fifteen minutes in command of an FA-18 squadron was a very uncomfortable time. The outgoing CO had arranged for an air demo after the ceremony, flown by a legacy squadron pilot whom I didn’t know. Guy that was now instructing at the replacement squadron across the street. In one of my airplanes. The plan had been set in ink when he was in charge, but it would be executed under my command and if the whole thing went south it would have been me wearing it around my neck for the next 15 months.
By lex, Sat – March 6, 2004
As promised in the previous post, I went golfing today.
I spend my working week planning, thinking, organizing, managing. When the weekend comes around, I put away planning things.
I don’t plan my golf, it just happens to me.
There are some advantages to this. I meet different people every time that I play. A twosome or a threesome is already formed, and I get to join them, and observe their dynamic. It is a fascinating insight into the human condition, especially in that one will always be tested in a game of golf. It brings out the best in people, and the worst. It is a kind of war: a war against the course, against one’s playing partners, against oneself.
By lex, on December 19th, 2007
The helicopter rescue of young Laura Montero breaks the signal-to-noise threshold of the LA Times:
Fourteen-year-old Laura Montero was aboard a cruise ship off Baja California late last week when her appendix ruptured, causing her agonizing pain. The Dawn Princess was out at sea. The ship doctor lacked the anesthesia for an appendectomy.
The teenager from rural Illinois had been enjoying a vacation with 15 members of her family. Now Laura’s mother, Trudy Lafield, began to worry that their long-awaited holiday idyll on the Mexican Riviera would prove fatal.
By lex, on December 15th, 2007
So, you’re a 14-year old kid from Illinois on vacation on a Mexico-bound cruise liner in December. Lucky, yah?
Until your appendix bursts at sea, and then, you know: Not so much.
By lex, on November 7th, 2006
The last time I was in Perth, WA I was headed to a local watering hole with a pair of buddies at a time of the “evening” that had gotten past being late and was well on the way to being early again. We probably didn’t need another beer. But we wanted one. I mean, it was Perth.
The folks we met just outside the bar definitely didn’t need any more. There was a European couple there – the guy was English, and the girl from Eire – young backpackers they were, both of them reeling drunk. They went to cross the street when she stumbled and fell by the curb. By an unfortunate twist of fate, her friend lurched the other way at just the same moment. A mixed group of American sailors and locals, about six or seven young men, saw this from a different angle than I did and sadly misinterpreted the scene.
By lex, October 13, 2006
And, what with all the cake-cutting and the ice cream socializing and the wearing of lampshades on my head – whoops! That was the last night in Bahrain, never mind – I sort of forget to blog about it.
Well that and the fact that the jet lag man is still viciously keeping me down. And I’m pretty busy. And the deck was up. The sun was in my eyes. There was an earthquake. Terrible flood.
So, we were 231 years old yesterday. And still have our hairline, most of our own teeth, and a good resting heart rate. And we’re still at sea, or getting ready for sea or coming back from having been at sea, pretty much all the time. Being, you know: The Sea Service, and all.
By lex, on October 11th, 2006
Google must have a thermos in it: When you type in the url over here, you automatically get the .bh suffix, with all kinds of cool, wriggly, right-to-left writing in the places where you’ve become accustomed to seeing “Web,” “Images,” “News,” “Groups” and “Porn” back home. Also, when you type in your search request, the letters fill from right to left, instead of the correct way.
How do it know? It’s got a thermos in it. That’s how.
NSA Bahrain is like an island inside the island. It feels just like being home, except that everyone is wearing some version of DCU’s. It’s “Lost” in cammies.