Bagram Air Base has officially kicked off its windy season in what is referred to around here as "The 120 Days of Wind". Whether heads down and squinty-eyed, or securely wrapped in a balaclava and bug goggles, everyone learns to make do with the resulting dust and sand flying about. I'd like to say that I'm wise enough to associate with the latter group, not only for my own comfort but also for the potential of keeping my eyes protected. I can't. Sporting my Wayfarers is, without a debt, better for morale. And I enjoy the compliments of, "Sweet shades man". I'm sure my eyes will forgive me later.
I bring up the sunglasses mainly because, although things aren't really bad out here at all, its nice to hold on to little pieces of normalcy from back home. For instance, such was the case a few weeks ago as myself and a few other co-workers were lamenting about missing being able to rock climb. Although the base is real good about offering different fitness activities, it can't cover everything, and we were all bummed about the fact that there wasn't a climbing wall available for use. At least, we thought so. As we wallowed in our self-pity, we were told by a fellow climbing enthusiast that there were rumors of such a wall existing on the other side of the flight line, leftover from some Strike Eagle squadron that had left several months earlier. With spirits raised and hopes high, we secured transportation and set off on the trek to the opposite side of base, in search of this rumored "wall". We eventually found ourselves in the parking lot of the old Eagle squadron, now being occupied by a squadron of A-10s. Armed with nothing but our charm and good looks (and one fighter pilot in case we needed someone to translate for us in "fighter speak"), we went in search of someone to grant us access to their compound and lead us to their "wall" if you will. I wish the story finished with us finding some way around the compound gate or through the use of some eloquent fighter lingo, or at least knowing some secret password. I think the exchange we had with the gentleman on the other side of the fence ended up something like this: "Hey man, we heard you have a climbing wall. Can we come check it out?" "Sure dude, here's the gate code, come hang out whenever". So, bravado-less but none the less victorious, we were able to check out what the previous guys had built up. It was a nice little wall, maybe about 15' high, with enough holds to keep someone happy. Unfortunately, the plywood backing was slowly rotting and several of the holds were coming loose and cracking the wood. It was a great thought, and nice to climb on once, but we decided that it wasn't worth the drive across base all the time. So there are hopes now of constructing a climbing/bouldering wall in our own compound, permission pending. We've got great plans drawn up. Fingers crossed.
One of the other small luxuries that I hold onto out here is my daily showers. For quite a while, I was taking my showers in a facility referred to as "The Cadillac". I don't know how it got the name because its present condition certainly doesn't warrant it. In the same facility that the shower is located is also the toilet facilities. So, while not awful but certainly not enjoyable, during the course of a shower, there is at least 2-3 dudes no more than 20 feet away, doing their daily business. I apologize for the crassness but I want to paint a realistic picture. As a result, showers end up being a fairly odoriferous experience. However, as of late, I've discovered a significantly better alternative to "The Cadillac". Enter, "The Spa". "The Spa" as we refer to it, is a slightly smaller facility, slightly longer walk, but significantly more pleasant shower experience. The Spa is a shower-only facility, raised several feet above the ground, never lacking in hot water or water pressure, always pleasantly smelling, and with a floor covered in raised wooden slats in order that one doesn't have to walk through puddles in the facility. Also important to note, The Spa is almost never occupied by more than one person, so there's a whole lot less of that "Excuse me bro"/awkward scoot around the dude changing next to you. Its the little things.
Finally, I brought up the subject of the wind earlier because it brings me to the reason of why I'm actually here in the 'Stan, which is, to be a pilot. And one of the best things about being a pilot and flying around in a crew aircraft is the good times and good laughs and good work one can have while out on a mission. This week, I had the privilege of not just once but twice being able to fly with a friend that I went through Field Training with in ROTC back in '06. We're still baffled as to how that one got signed off, as here we are, just a couple Lieutenants, in charge of a combat mission in the desert. To be straight, it was technically my buddy, Dan Hay, who was in charge of the mission, and I was just the pilot. None the less, it felt pretty sweet to be stepping to the plane in the early morning as the sun peaked, about to go do some quality work alongside an old friend. From years ago, being yelled at alongside each other, wondering if someday we'd ever make it to being an Air Force pilot, to now slippin' some surlies in Afghanistan. It was pretty sweet. With the winds whipping out of the west, pushing our skills up and our crosswind performance to the max, we executed like a well-oiled machine. I will say though that, when put side-by-side for comparison, Dan definitely greased his landing on a bit better than mine. I was impressed. And maybe a little humbled. Happy landings amigo.
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| Mustache Excellence |
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| Puttin' out the vibe |
