Three Gatorades In

            There I was, three Gatorades into a five-hour mission and my eyes were turning yellow. There’s only one control stick in that cockpit, but it felt like there were two. The copilot, Hobitz, couldn’t take the controls because he couldn’t get his stick up because it had collapsed down into the “ease of egress position.”

            “You’ve got three empty Gatorade bottles back there, use one of those,” Hobitz said.
            “I would if you could get your stick up, you knucklehead,” I said. “I can’t take my hands off the flight controls.”

            So, hold it I did, for the next two hours in that turbulent, bumpy mountain air. But I made it to the forward operating base safe and secure. And who could have guessed it – Hobitz got his cyclic stick back up on short final to the rearm and refuel point. So, I left the rotors turning in refuel, gave Hobitz the flight controls, and hopped out to defuel myself.
            The back of the tail boom, that was the traditional location. And I must have had just one single thought on my mind – relief – because I didn’t see pretty little private first class walking up to me.

            “Ahhh, just like a racehorse!” I said, not knowing she was there.
            And then grinning ear to ear, she tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Yes Mr. Wanamaker, I can see that… And now, how many rockets did you say you wanted?”

            Oh, I am quite sure I was as red as rockets glare, as I said, “Seven, seven on each side.” And forever after, the guys never let me live it down.

The Big-Boned, Pimply-Faced, Thick-Black Pixie-Haired Girl

            She was a big-boned, pimply-faced, thick-black pixie-haired girl who looked like Mary Lou Retton on steroids. I don’t even remember her name or where she came from, but I never felt so trapped in my life as I did that day my mom opened the front door to let her thunder down the stairs into the basement.

            “Someone’s here to see you,” mom yelled.
            “I’m hiding in the basement. Mom can’t you tell!”

            But there she was, perky miss pimples, opening the closet door under the stairs. And all I could see was the snickering smile on my brother’s face as she said, “Are you hiding from me?”

            “Oh, I was just searching for my running shoes because I was going to…”
            “Oh! Can I go with you? I know the perfect place. The high school football stadium where the football team and cheerleaders are practicing track!” she said.
            “Well, I a, a, a … well, maybe I don’t feel like running after all,” I said.

            Then she grabbed me by the hand and drug me out back where it was dark, thank God for that. So, there I stood, backed up against the wall with big-boned miss bodacious demonstrating the splits that she learned in gymnastics.

            “Isn’t the moonlight romantic?” she said.
            “Well, a, a, a … I can see the moon…”
            “It’s almost full,” she said, as she bent over and stretched touching her toes.
            “Do you want to see more of what I learned this week in gymnastics?”
            “Oh, well, that’s okay. You’ve shown me so much already,” I said.

            Oh lord have mercy, I was praying for a cloud, anything, to hide that full moon, anything to find me a way to get out of that embarrassing romantic moment. And that’s when I learned that God answers prayers, because my brother opened the back door and yelled, “Hey Mike, when are we going to the pool hall to meet Jackie and Diane?”