A Healthy Alternative to Work

Well! I just talked with a Sgt. Neville, the associate editor of Fort Knox's Inside The Turret. He put a few fears to rest in my mind about my new assignment.

"It's pretty laid back here," he said.

Apparently. PT is on Mondays and Fridays, and the office does it as a section, which is good. Furthermore, like any good journalism department, approximately 70 percent of the time is spent "Jacking around." I used to tell people I'd switched my major to journalism because I liked English, but mostly I liked screwing around. It was always good for a laugh or two.

The Turret publishes weekly, but from what Sgt. Neville said, most of the material comes from contributors. The layout is done by a paginator at the publishers', which leaves me wondering what we all do. No complaints here, mind you.

I think I may wind up working initially as the Sports Editor, which isn't exactly my forte, but ask good old Mac -- sports is a great way to meet people and network.

Anyway, I just wanted to let whoever is interested know that I'm much less concerned over my next assignment. Things there sound great, even though I'm missing the Kentucky Derby this weekend.

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My leave is rapidly ending. I'm departing New York State on Monday, driving first through Ohio and on to Kentucky, where I'll report for duty to Fort Knox on May 4. I'm definitely not excited about it.

Meanwhile, I've taken the business of doing nothing to as extreme a degree as I can. I stay in bed until I can't stand it any more, and spend most of the day flipping between Comedy Central and news channels.

A very dear old friend of mine, Katie, decided while I was in Korea that what my DVD collection needed was a hearty serving of Kurt Russell. I really can't say why, but every time she's sent a package, there is some off-beat Kurt Russell comedy in it. I'm now the proud owner of Tango and Cash (co-starring Sylvester Stallone), Overboard (co-starring Goldie Hawn), and Captain Ron (co-starring Martin Short).

This time she also picked me up The Long Kiss Goodnight. This movie is so lousy that it's hilarious. Over-the-top action, Samuel L. Jackson being Samuel L. Jackson, and Geena Davis as Bruce Willis from Die Hard. Wow. It's the kind of movie you don't have to really pay much attention to, and you and your friends can make jokes throughout the whole film without anyone getting mad and telling you to shut up.

What do I have left to do? Ok:

Polish boots
Press uniforms
Get haircut (I'm really shaggy at the moment)
Pack
Get amp and guitar fixed
Contact Fort Knox PAO and figure out where Mom can stay while she's down there
Find glasses (which I think are at Ryan's place)

There must be more. I guess that's a good starting list.

I've got to say that I'm a bit disappointed in the Commander-in-Chief over his insistence on testifying with VP Dick Cheney. It really would have done him a lot of good not to make the demands on the commission that he did. People are already suspicious, and I don't think an unrecorded, untelevised, informal joint testimony helped that out a bit. If there really wasn't anything to hide, why hide?

Anyway -- time to continue to do nothing. Have a righteous Friday.

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I love [url=http://www.redmeat.com]Red Meat[/url], and this one in particular:




=http://www.redmeat.com/redmea...

When you've been calling someone a jackass for a while without most people believing you, it's vindicating when said person unequivically shows their stripes for everyone to see.

The funniest thing about John Kerry and his war record is how backwards we've been getting the whole timeline. Each evolving detail makes Kerry's present status more farcical. To wit:

First we learn that Kerry is not only a veteran of Vietnam, he is a "war hero" who saw action and earned three Purple Hearts during the conflict. He uses this to contest both Gen. (Ret.) Wesley Clark and Pres. George W. Bush.

As it turns out, our friend Senator Kerry didn't spend quite as much time in the Mekong delta as we thought: after receiving his third Purple Heart, he put in for hardship discharge and went home after spending only half the usual time in Vietnam.

It then turns out that the injuries for which Kerry received his Purple Hearts take him off-duty for a TOTAL of a day and a half. Folks, when you get your wisdom teeth pulled in the Army, you get three days off.

Later on, in 1971, Kerry appears as an anti-war activist before some senatorial commitee, wearing fatigues, denouncing the actions of basically all soldiers who fought in the Vietnam War as "atrocities." The present-day Kerry attempts to deflect this by suggesting that the term may have been a little "severe."

Then we learn that Kerry tossed the "medals" or "ribbons" or whatever he earned during some war protest, denouncing his military service and apparent atrocities he committed during his tenure in the Navy.

I'd like to break here and explain that whenever the military presents an award, there are two elements. There is an actual medal, which has a ribbon that is attached to an embossed medallion unique to the award. The "ribbon" is a strip with the award's colors across it that is attached with others to the Class A, B, and Dress uniforms. I would, being in the military, have to go out on a limb and say that throwing a bunch of "ribbons" is, in spirit, exactly the same thing as throwing a bunch of "medals." They are awarded simultaneously and both represent exactly the same feat or accomplishment.

And today I hear that there are contemporaries of Kerry's coming out who are calling into question the statement that he was on a boat that saw any action at all. Is there no end to this denudation of Kredibility?

I may be alone here, but I'm stuck wondering how Kerry has the gall to bring up his war record at all, given how ashamed of it he apparently was 30 years ago. Hold on... I need to think this through.

Got it! In 1971, being a soldier or servicemember of any kind was very uncool. Society hated soldiers, and it was patently abusive to those who returned from the war after seeing their friends and enemies blown apart. There weren't parades, there wasn't a warm welcome -- but people did throw rotten vegetables and demonstrate their disdain for even those men who hadn't even had the choice to sign up or stay home.

Now, of course, soldiers are in a different light all together. TIME Magazine named the American Soldier their "Person of the Year." Toby Keith has his tear-jerking "American Soldier" song, and everyone is falling over themselves to voice their "support of our troops." Naturally, old Kerry wants to cash in on this recent wave of Soldierism, and he made as good a go as he could have.

Too bad he'd denounced it all a while back, because it really could have done him some good in this day and age.

I'll cut this short, other wise Actual Research will be involved. But I would say that this episode is really representative of Kerry's entire political career. His senatorial voting record leaves much to be desired, particularly when it's compared with the claims he's been making as a presidential hopeful. Even New York's Village Voice is suggesting the Democratic Party should get rid of Kerry and try to bring back Edwards, or someone. Looks like the $1,000-haircut man is sinking like the car Ted Kennedy drove off the bridge.

And as always, your comments are more than welcome.

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Friends (and enemies alike!), sorry it's been so long since I updated. I spent the last few days down in Steubenville visiting my brothers Zach and Jake and my alma mater, Franciscan University, where I got my BA in Journalism.

With that said, there are all kinds of issues to tackle now. We've got an AC-130 gunship firing howitzer rounds on Fallujah, Iraq; John Kerry and his medals are also under fire as the presidential hopeful recieves a $1,000 haircut; former president Bill Clinton is (strategically?) releasing his memoirs; and terrorists have taken to blowing up stuff in patently Arab countries.

Which one will be first? Let's find out... but after dinner. Anyway, good to be home.

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Ryan and I finally convinced his roommate Tom, who's been spending the past few months lodged in his girlfriend's duodenum, to come out with us last night. We started at my place, grilling hotdogs and lighting fireworks over the river. This got a bit boring, and eventually we wound up blowing up the leftover hotdogs with M-5000s and bottle rockets. I had to wipe exploded weiner bits off my shoes before we headed downtown.

Tuesday nights at [url=http://www.baldlucysbar.com/w...]Ducci's[/url] are Flip Night, where you get to flip a coin to see if you have to pay for your beer. Amazingly, I won four straight tosses in a row and left with a Guiness for myself and a round for me mates.

Tom eventually left, and one of the downtown bartenders, a good-looking blonde named Chrissy, showed up blasted. She was off that night, so I guess she'd decided to go drinking. She came outside with me to smoke a cigarette, and while we were talking, she tried to stand up and walk. This wasn't going to work, and before long she was on her way down. I tried to catch her, but I just ended up pitching over with her, and I skinned my knee. I think I prevented her from getting hurt, though. I picked her up and took her inside, where I turned her over to the bar staff. Maybe we should go back on the off-chance she remembers? Eh. Who knows.

Today I spent some time reading up on the horrible bombings in Iraq and Saudi Arabia. I don't think there's much for me to say except that these events should strengthen our resolve to finish the work we've started.

John Kerry's looking weaker by the day, huh? He's put a lot of time into the whole "I'm Not Bush!" platform, but he's starting to feel the pinch, I think. Interesting to note that George W. and Mrs. Bush filed a publicly-released joint tax return. John Kerry, who filed separately from his wife, released his, but Therese "I Have More Money Than God" Heinz-Kerry declined to release hers. I hear she has a very nice private Gulfstream jet of her very own. I'm not against people being filthy rich -- I'd like to be, myself -- but I'm not sure good ol' John's cut out to be the Bruce Springsteen-esque working-class hero he's posturing himself as.

I'd have to recommend this [url=http://www.telegraph.co.uk/op...]article[/url], which is by Mark Steyn, one of my favorite columnists. He gives a lot of great examples of the current surge in American defeatism, i.e.:

[i]In fact, the so-called incriminating memo is notable mainly for its confirmation of the woeful state of US intelligence. The mention of "media reports" in the first sentence is a sly admission that you could have found out all the stuff in this "classified" briefing by reading the papers. If you'd read a piece by Kenneth Timmerman in the July 1998 Reader's Digest, you'd have been much more informed. Bush would have been better off spending half an hour in a well-stocked dentist's waiting room than reading CIA briefings, and the ensuing root-canal surgery would have been a lot less painful than listening to the Commission poseurs.[/i]

Check it out, it's a great read. What's the similarity between Iraq and Vietnam?

[i]Likewise, the whimperers are only a minority of the American people, but they're even more plugged in – in the media, in politics, in the academy. The only relevant Vietnamese comparison is this: then as now, for America it's a choice between victory or self-defeat.[/i]

That's all, folks.

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So the show was great, except for these few complaints:

1) You couldn't bring your beer into the theater, and instead had to pound it in the lobby between sets.

2) You (of course) couldn't smoke in the theater if you weren't part of the band playing onstage.

3) The crowd was full of more jail-bait than a Japanese girls' preparatory school. I wouldn't be caught dead with that crowd, and it's a good thing that Fountains of Wayne actually rocked.

4) The second opening band, The Last American Virgins, overstayed their welcome by about four songs. They were good, but we hadn't come to see them. Seriously, opening acts are a mixed bag. It's kind of like having someone sneak something else in on you: "You came to see Fountains of Wayne? Well... they're coming... but hey! Guess what! You're also going to see Candid and the Last American Virgins! Isn't that great?" Well, it can be good. Sometimes the surprise is nice, like when Sonic Youth opened for Pearl Jam back on their Binaural tour. Macy Gray opened for Dave Matthews when I saw them in Buffalo, and not a single soul at the Bills' stadium paid any attention.

Other than that, great show. They played a good mix of material from their three albums, and in a tribute to the older members of the audience, did a 15-minute jam through the verses of some off-beat classic-rock tunes ([i]Jet Air Liner[/i], Steve Miller Band and [i]Sharp Dressed Man[/i], ZZ Top, among others). I swear to you: none of the teeny-boppers crammed up along the edge of the stage knew any of the five-odd covers they jammed through, and knowing this vindicated my presence in the TRL-ish audience.

If the only Fountains of Wayne song you've heard is [i]Stacey's Mom[/i], you'd be well advised to check out some of their other material. [i]Mexican Wine[/i] is the opening anthem from their newest album, and begins with the line, "He was killed by a cellular phone explosion / they scattered his ashes across the ocean / the water was used to make baby lotion / the wheels of comotion / were set into motion." [i]Bright Future in Sales[/i] is about drinking on the job, and also has some great lyrics. In each song you can hear the influences, which range from Paul Simon to The Cars to psychedelia.

Good stuff. On an unrelated note, I learned an important lesson last night. [i]Either[/i] write about going to South Korean drinky bars where they did a lesbian strip revue in your blog [i]OR[/i] tell your mom to read the political commentary you started doing later on. These things are bad when they get put together.

So what does everyone think about the testimonies we've been getting from good old George Tenet, Paul Wolfowitz and Condoleeza Rice? I'm curious as to what the general reaction is. Do you think this is helping? How so? Or are we wasting time with public grandstanding when we could actually be getting something accomplished? The floor (or mat, or whatever) is yours.

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My uncle Jimmy called the other day and was surprised when I answered the phone. He asked me if I was glad to be back and then asked what I planned on doing while I was home.

"I plan on accomplishing absolutely nothing while I'm here," I said.

So far, so good. I've watched movies, vegged out, gotten drunk with my friends here and in Ohio, and... that's about it.

Last night I rented 21 Grams, which I thought was a decent flick. It's cut together out of sequence, almost as if the whole film was a series of flashbacks. If Memento pissed you off, look elsewhere for entertainment. Sean Penn, Naomi Watts and Benicio Del Toro all act their asses off, and make a depressing subject even more depressing. Which is good, until Penn's ending voiceover, which at first sounds good, but upon reflection makes little or no sense.

You know what another good movie is? 28 Days Later. I watched that again last night, too (insomnia). The photography is absolutely incredible, and the fact that the piece was shot entirely in digital video gives the film an other-worldly color balance. It's ostensibly a zombie movie, but it really is a look at what would happen if anarchy suddenly enveloped a country and society broke down completely. I thought the last third of the movie was a little weak, but it's still a fun ride and it really looks great.

Well... that's about it for now. I'm going to see Fountains of Wayne tonight in Syracuse, so I'll let you all know how that is -- at least, I will if some pressing social issue doesn't crop up in the next 24 hours and piss me off. Cheers!

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True Story from Today:

Dad and I decided to do some father-son bonding today, being that I'm home for the first time in a year and all, so we went canoeing on the Tioughnioga River, which runs through our backyard. The plan was to take two guys, a canoe and paddles, and a cooler full of tuna sandwiches and beer down the 20-mile stretch of winding waterway to Marathon, New York, which is a town that thinks it is famous for its maple syrup.

Things got off to a great start. The sun was out and the river was up a couple feet, so we didn't have to get out and tug the canoe through any shoals or shallows. We watched herons, mergansers and Canada geese swim and fly across the rivers, all paired up for the upcoming mating season. By noon, it was hot enough for us to take off our windbreakers and crack a couple Labatt's Blues.

We almost made it, really. About five miles shy of Marathon, however, we ran into a delta area where the river split into rivulets that ran around several marshy islands. Deadfall tends to collect around these areas, which creates hazards: partially-submerged logs, rapids, and strainers.

Somehow a current caught our bow, and we got turned around. Our stern (where my dad was sitting) bumped into a large log that lay across the rivulet we were heading down, and as he tried to untangle himself, my end whipped around, placing us alongside the log.

The log was creating a serious undertow, and it only took seconds for our canoe to start tilting. As I worked frantically to heave my end over the natural dam, we started taking water over the opposite gunwale.

Once you start flooding, it's pretty much over. Hundreds of pounds of water pressure capsized us, and despite the warmth of the day, the water was icy enough to knock the breath out of me. It was only waist deep, but the rapids made it impossible to stand up. I tossed my paddle onto some debris to the side and dove for the closest piece of gear: the cooler. Once I'd gotten that ashore, I saw Dad at the other end of the canoe, trying to lift his end out of the water that was jamming the canoe underneath the log and into the undertow. We both gave it our best, but after 15 minutes of standing in the frigid water, we decided to take the better part of valour and get to dry ground. We waded to a marshy island of reeds and driftwood.

We spent a couple minutes cursing and trying to figure out a way to dislodge the jammed craft, which was by now impossibly stuck underneath the log. Everything proved fruitless.

Dad's cell phone had been in the vest he'd removed earlier, and my supply of smokes had been reduced to a watery wad of tobacco and soggy paper. We decided the only thing to do was find a way to solid ground and walk our way into Marathon, where we'd call up Mom and get a ride home.

It took us a while to find a passible ford site, and we had to get back into the water twice before we found the decrepit railroad tracks that ran into the village. Looking either way, the rickety tracks went endlessly.

We marched south, trying to dry off and stay on the uneven railroad ties.

I felt bad, since this canoe trek had been something I knew Dad had been looking forward to, and I was worried that he would think our time together, which has been so infrequent in the past two years, had been ruined.

"Sorry our ride had to end this way, Pop," I said. "I had fun anyway."

He brightened. "Me too," he said.

We walked along the tracks for a good four miles before we found ourselves in Marathon. We made sure to ask each other about our warmth, making sure we didn't have any hypothermic symptoms, but by about the third mile, we'd dried off and warmed up pretty well.

The pair of us looked pretty goofy walking into Marathon's main district on the train tracks -- both soaked, carrying canoe paddles and wearing life vests, me with my Army BDU trousers and jump boots and him with a damp pair of jeans and a mad-scientist hairdo, but no one looked at us twice until we got to the gas station to buy smokes and make a phone call home.

Mom, who had begun a maternal panic, not having heard from us for five hours, answered and headed down in the family's minivan. Dad and I waited at the picnic tables at the ice cream stand across the street from the gas station.

"Well," Dad said. "We'll definitely remember this one."

"Yeah," I said. "We got to canoe and take a hike in the same day."

"Next week," he said, "Let's skip the canoeing and just go to Murphy's for a pint."

"Sounds good," I said.

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It's funny to watch how whenever some obstacle crops up against our forces in Iraq, criticisms get tougher and complaints get louder.

What's going to happen in Najaf? Well, given the fact that the U.S. is severely crippled by the intense scrutiny placed upon the way we carry out battle, it'll take a while before we can bag this clown. There were days, not so long ago, where no one really minded the Allies bombing the ever-loving crap out of the city of Berlin. We have psychological operations forces who could produce leaflets telling everyone who doesn't want to get blown up to get out of the city, but that's unacceptable, right? Really, what's more important than Marines and Soldiers dying in a standoff is that a mosque that this guy is holed up in stays standing. [i]What?[/i]

Should we send more troops? Extend the ones we already have over there? The best people to answer these questions are the commanders on the ground. I really couldn't be bothered to care what some retired lieutenant colonel on MSNBC thinks we need as far as overall strength. Let me hear it from the battalion commanders who are actually there. If they say we need more, we need more.

It's amazing how a year ago we had all these commentators -- armchair generals, retired colonels, and the like -- making daring claims as to what would happen in the battle for Baghdad, and how we needed "a new strategy" when our tanks stopped for a couple days just short of the city. They were all patently wrong, and yet we still listen to them. Fox News still employs Geraldo, the buffoon who got himself kicked out of the country by the 101st Airborne (Air Assault) for giving away troop movement plans on satellite TV. Where did that guy dig up any credibility to begin with? And now he's still on the air.

This is going to take a while, folks, make no mistake about it. I just got back from Korea, where we've been for 52 years [i]after the conflict ended[/i]. It's going to take a while. But the main thing is, we're winning, and we will continue to win.

Today I'm going to be heading out to take my little brother Jake down to school in Ohio. It happens to be my own alma mater too, and some of the guys from the fraternity (Alpha Phi Delta) are still kicking around down there. We should have a good ol' Animal House-type time tonight.

In other news, it sure seems like the blame for mishandling pre-9/11 intelligence rests on the shoulders of our venerable intelligence agency itself, the CIA. A CIA memo discovered a couple days ago paints the warnings of a massive terrorist attack as "sensational" and basically discredits it.

It's really the job of the CIA and FBI to make sure the proper people are notified of certain intelligence. Unfortunately, the two agencies are typically competing with each other and are frequently at odds, which has created intelligence scandals for decades.

Furthermore, no one's making a big deal out of Clinton's lack of action in the face of multiple intelligence reports of terrorist threats. Shouldn't we be taking a closer look at this, too, if we're going to be pointing fingers? If you've read my stuff before, you know I'm willing to go along with most of this, just as long as we're all willing to do it equivically.

I've sadly been missing out on the news lately. Meeting up with old friends and relaxing has taken up most of my time, so I'm pretty badly out-of-date in terms of the most recent developments. If there's someone out there who could suggest a list of topics to look into, I'll be glad to do it.

-30-

I picked up The Darkness' new album, Permission to Land, yesterday and I've got to recommend it to you all. It's a real, live rock 'n' roll band, and it really makes you realize how desperate we are for them these days. Bands like Staind, Nickelback, Linkin Park and the rest really don't cut the mustard... making money off aping bands that were actually good (like Soundgarden and Pearl Jam) is only cool for a very short while, and that was over about two summers ago.

The guys in The Darkness don't take themselves too seriously (check out the video for "I Believe in a Thing Called Love" if you need proof), but they are serious about making catchy songs with rocking guitar riffs. The vocals are reminiscent of Queen and Whitesnake and the days where having an androgynous falsetto didn't mean you couldn't be a badass.

Check out the group's [url=http://www.thedarknessrock.co...]website[/url] for more info. I think they rock.

-30-

Check out the link to [url=http://lyondenyit.tblog.com]lyondenyit's[/url] blog, where you can read the insane rantings of my former boss, Sgt. K, who had the good sense to get himself off a tank crew and into Army Public Affairs (which should never be referred to as journalism).

-30-

Being that it's Good Friday, my parents figured we should all go out and see Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ. The first thing I've got to say about this controverial film is that it'll hit you like a sockfull of quarters, and it's definitely not for kids.

Probably the first thing I ever heard about the movie was the concern over possible anti-Semetic content. I'm not Jewish, but after seeing the movie I'd say that you'd be stretching a lot to interpret it as misogynistic towards Jews -- although, if you're Roman, you might be offended.

People have also expressed concern over the level of violence and gore. There's definitely a lot of it, but keep in mind that this is a story about public torture and execution by crucifixion. How could it not be violent?

The movie's account draws mostly from the Gospel of John, and incorporates elements from the others as well, with a few artistic liberties taken in the form of add-ins. Satan (who's never been this creepy) shows up in Gethsemane, during the scourging, and along the way through Jerusalem. In what could only be a nod to The Omen, a raven lands atop the cross of the unjust theif as he's finishing a rant, and gouges out his eyes.

I definitely don't want to really pick the film apart at the moment. I was pretty shell-shocked as I walked out of the theater, and I'm still recovering. I will say this -- it's an incredible and intense treatment of a story that is often taken for granted. The inherent violence in the story of the Passion is portrayed explicitly in the movie, and is probably one of the most important things this treatment brings to the table. Just leave the kids at home.

-30-

Ryan, my best friend since the age of 11, picked me up last night to hit the bars downtown, just like old times. When we got to Balducci's, I made a horrifying discovery.

You cannot smoke in bars in the state of New York.

For the record, I was going to complain about anti-smoking laws anyway, since I'd spent 36 hours in nicotine withdrawl during my trip home. In Seattle, the only place you can smoke is outside the baggage claim area -- once you've gotten your ticket and made it through security, there's no going back, and there's positively no smoking. Dulles wasn't much better, but I did find a smoking lounge at the far end of one of their terminals. Never mind that I had to walk about two klicks to get there.

And now this latest outrage. It's a bar, fercryingoutloud! People who go to bars tend to smoke, and now we have to huddle together outside, shivering, in order to satisfy our addiction.

Oh sure, you'll say I have it coming. I know that, and I know smoking is bad for me. But this is borderline fascism! I mean, states are all passing stricter bans on public smoking, but they're definitely not above placing outrageous taxes on cigarette sales in order to balance the budget. I'm sure someone's convinced themself somewhere that the idea is to discourage smoking. I say it's taking advantage of addicts. There would be something unethical about a 20% tax on heroin, I think.

The reason that this is a problem at all is because now smokers won't hold themselves responsible for dying of cancer or emphysema. It's the tobacco companies' fault. It's the advertising. It's how cool Mel Gibson looked in Lethal Weapon. And now, it's the fault of the bar that let me smoke inside while I enjoyed my beer.

Well, that last one's off the list, isn't it? Good preemptive move, there, Mr. Pataki. Thanks a million. Look, I know the stuff is bad for me. Just let me kill myself in peace -- is that too much to ask?

I'm going to leave the "Wow, I'm home" stuff alone for now, and write a bit about one of my all-time favorite albums.

=http://images.amazon.com/imag...

Paul Simon's Graceland was, along with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band one of the first CDs I ever owned, and it's still one of the best. As a musical accomplishment, it brought together some of the best elements of rock, jazz, reggae and African world beat. The sparkling guitar riffs and catchy hooks alone make it a great listen, and you can't get away from the fact that the songs are just plain good.

This is to say nothing about the political significance the album and accompanying tour held in 1987. If you get a chance to see the concert video, filmed in South Africa, you'll see what I mean. It's a brazen statement against apartheid as well as being a great performance (featuring some absolutely awesome guest talent). The video is interspersed with beautiful cultural footage... I really can't say enough about it.

In fact, if I seem distracted, it's because it's playing now as I write. Maybe I should wait till it's over...

-30-

During the course of today, I skipped more time zones than I have the math skills to figure out.

But the long and short of it is, after stops in Okinawa, Seattle and Washington D.C., and after over 24 hours of travel, I ran into my family at the baggage claim at the Syracuse airport.

We hugged, and then everyone had to go use the bathroom.

As we walked outside lugging the huge suitcase I'd stuffed before my trip, I noticed one of those new "H2" Hummer limosines parked near the terminal.

"Wow, someone got a limo to pick them up," I said to my dad. "Must be nice."

Dad didn't say much. The driver got out and grabbed my green duffel bag and said, "Wow, you guys got here fast."

I was speechless.

We got in, Dad asked me questions, we drank champagne, laughed, listened to music... it was all so surreal. I'm home now, writing on the computer upstairs, and still I can't believe I'm here.

Now it's over. Just another page turned... and I still don't know what it all means. I'll have lots of "war" stories to tell, and I can go and hang out at the VFW now, but I have no idea what life is going to be like when I wake up tomorrow.

I'm tired. I guess I'll end here and come up with some controversial political subject tomorrow (it's not like I'll have anything better to do). All I can say is, thank God I'm home.

-30-

=http://img8.photobucket.com/a...

Being that this weekend was my last huzzah in Korea, I had no problem going back up to Tokori with that dude from New Zealand last night. He said this time he wasn't going to drink, and he had to go back to get photos for the story he was putting together.

We walked around, into and through several of the "drinky clubs" up there, and we almost got kicked out of the district again when one of the proprieters of the Bunny Club took issue with his taking pictures inside. We played dumb and said we didn't know the rules, and I promised Ahgima (Korean for old lady) that we wouldn't put anything in the paper.

It was after curfew when we got back to Uijongbu, so I headed up to Seth's apartment. He showed me a bunch of the photos he took during his six-week stint in Iraq, Pakistan and Afghanistan, some of which were really good. Others were just plain funny. There was one where he'd gotten a buddy to operate the camera while he and this Pakistani arms dealer pointed AK-47s and nickel-plated pistols at each other.

I was exhausted, so I threw on "House of the Dead" (which sucked, but it's a zombie movie, whatever) and sacked out on the couch.

This morning it really hit me that I'm leaving. I looked out at Uijongbu and realized that I arrived here almost an entire year ago, and that now I was finally leaving -- just like Hawkeye does when he gets his orders at the end of the M*A*S*H movie. I'm going home, and I can hardly even make that idea make any sense in my head.

I've been away from home before, lots of times. But this has been different. I've been isolated, in the Army, and in a foreign country... no weekend trips back to my parents' place or Friday nights with familiar friends. It's been a completely other life here, and while I've gotten used to it, I won't be all that sorry to leave it behind me.

What did I learn? I'm not sure yet... I guess that'll become more clear once I'm actually gone. Maybe the next post.

I doubt I'll be able to get to an Internet terminal before I go, so this'll be my last dispatch from Korea. Thank you all for reading, stay tuned for Ian's Adventures in Kentucky.

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I woke up this morning in a room at the Rexton hotel in downtown Uijongbu. Several friends and I had a very interesting evening last night, which included getting kicked out of Tokori for commandeering a wheelbarrow and having chariot races in it. The New Zealander [i]Stars and Stripes[/i] reporter came with us, and was responsible for a good part of the tomfoolery.

I've made a big deal about how I won't miss this place once I leave, but I might have been wrong. There are endearing things about Korea. There are always adventures to have and strange things to see.

At this point, The Author leaves to go soak his head in a large bucket of ice-cold water.

Whew, that feels better. What was I saying? Oh yeah, I can't wait to get back to the States.

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