now is a good time to panic

happy birthday to me!
12 July 2012, 8:30 am
Filed under: life in general, nonsense | Tags: , , , ,

29 years ago today, on this most glorious day, the world was blessed with the birth of me. You lucky dogs. In honor of my birthday, I’m going to put up a post by my dear dear hilariously awesome friend Jo. Enjoy her. Everyone else has! (wink wink!!)

So, Katie has been on me forever to write something for her blog, but what could possibly be more interesting than what she’s already posting?  Luckily for you people, my superpower is that crazy shit always happens to me.  I regularly kick my own ass for the enjoyment of passers-by, and my TDY to Colombia was no exception. 

I got this sweet-ass TDY because I worked at the Numbered Air Force and because I am awesome and also because nobody else could go.  So I first reported for training at Beale AFB in California.  Training to use a tow bar, which should have been CAKE, because AMMO troops tow shit ALL THE TIME.  Yes, except this was an aircraft tow bar, which apparently has some fancy-schmancy pin in it designed to break if you go too fast, or it’s too bumpy, or if you breathe on it wrong. 

We got a close up tour of the aircraft, too, which is the coolest thing ever if you are a 12 year old boy, which I am not.  I know, I know, I’m in the Air Force and don’t care about airplanes.  So, I passed the time by asking a lot of questions, and trying to push the shiny red candy-like buttons all around.  Once I had made the guy in charge hold his head, my job was done and I went back to Arizona to pack for the real trip and the guys at Beale began to light candles and pray that I didn’t have to tow their aircraft EVER.

When I got to my TDY location, I was staying in a trailer (by myself, YES!) in a group of other trailers housing some Army guys, some weather guys and some Intel guys.  My boss for the month long “deployment” was a weathered Army colonel who was clearly not in the mood for my shit.  My job was to be there in case an aircraft diverted to my location and needed to be towed off the runway.  Yes, my loves.  May ALL your TDY’s be this grueling.  I spent the entire month parked under a mango tree reading novels and wearing flip-flops.  A nice change from the two tours I spent in Iraq. 

This paradise was not, however, perfect. 

Yes, I’m talking about my toilet.  Hey, I should have been happy it was a regular toilet!  I should have been grateful it wasn’t a Turkish toilet!  I should have congratulated myself daily that I had this porcelain gem to myself.  What a great little toilet, except for 2 things. 

One:  hello, you’re in a trailer.  I was pretty sure people walking around outside could definitely hear me using it, and that’s a deal-breaker.  I am what doctors call a ‘nervous pooper’.  Okay, not doctors, but the girl on Scrubs (who plays a doctor) said it and I agreed, OK?  There must be 2 locked doors between me ‘possibly’ pooping and The Rest of the World.  It is psychological.  I compensated for this by turning my TV up really loud and pretending I was alone on a desert island. 

Problem number two (no pun intended), the damn toilet ran constantly.  Constantly.  Aside from making me need to pee every five minutes, the running water sound was keeping me awake.  I did what any normal person would do, jiggled the handle.  That worked maybe 1 of every 3 times.  Then I got all Home Improvement on it and opened up the tank and futzed around with the inner bits and floaty thing (technical terms, try to keep up here).  This earned better success than my handle jiggling, but still, I was in there messing with this god-forsaken shitter hourly at least.  It got later, and I got more annoyed. 

Finally, the Colombian Water Torture took its toll and I went in there, took off the tank lid, and grabbed the ‘floaty thing’ with what I can only describe as the burning rage of a face-eating chimpanzee.  I totally broke that shit clean off.  “Oh no!” you say.  Oh that’s not ALL, my precious angels.  From the guts of the toilet tank now emerged a clear, solid column of high-pressure water, straight up into the ceiling of the trailer.  It then began to rain in my bathroom.  And the shut off valve behind the toilet?  HAHAHA, what valve?!  There was none! 

So I slammed the lid back on the tank and ran outside, straight to the Colonel’s office.  I slid into the room, completely soaking wet, and without turning around he said, “What did you break, Air Force?”  Then he turned around and saw me and amended his previous greeting to “Oh what the fuck?” I do not have the words to describe the looks being flung around as a full bird Army colonel crawled under my trailer to turn off the water at 10PM. 



3 Comments so far
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I’m laughing my ass off reading this post, but at the same time I feel terribly bad that all this stuff is going so terribly wrong. :(

Happy birthday Katie!

Comment by triing2survive

thanks, ara ;)
don’t feel too bad for jo- she has a ton of stories like this. she’ll be the first to tell you that she’s a ruiner. she ruins things. i think that’s part of the reason we get along so well. we’re both hilarious ruiners.

Comment by kathelldorfer

Omg!! I’m dying!! I love Jo! Such a good laugh!

Comment by alfg610

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