Things at the Fort have been mostly quiet throughout the week, but I have been keeping busy with riding, riding, and riding.
On Monday I went solo on Range Road for 38 miles ending up with an average of 17.5 miles per hour. I started with a gentle spin on the first lap and then attempted to sprint on the hills during the second lap. My calves were burning.
On Tuesday I followed up with a group ride down at the shop. I broke off from the main pack about 10 miles into the ride with Nate, Matt, Jeff, and Doug and we attacked some hills on a longer route back to the shop, well, longer than what the main group rode. We ended with a fast pace line on Wrightsboro Road back to the shop. 24 miles, 18.6 mile per hour average.
I'll keep working on it.
As for the work life, I have been put on a 1500 - 2300, Sunday to Thursday shift which starts on the 1st of April. I'm not sure how working on Sunday will affect my non-existent cycling career, but I'll definitely attempt to make the best of it.
This weekend I'm driving over to Fort Benning, GA to hang with my homie Jorge and observe a road race in near by Perry, GA. No racing for me just yet.
Get Riding!
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Nonsense: The AJBW Ambassador Team
Chuck Bolte is back in Georgia...sadly. It's not all bad though. I have to admit, I did miss my drums and my bikes, but this heat...damn.
Speaking of bikes I've returned to my old riding ways with the AJBW crew on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. These young legs are certainly feeling it too, since I've been off of the bicycle for far too long.
On Thursday I got the quads loose on a lovely 24 mile spin from the Warehouse to the Airport and up that "huge hill that has a water tower on it", before returning to the Warehouse. This morning I rode an accidental 12 mile leg down Walton Way with a guy named Mark. I say accidental, because I accidentally arrived at the Warehouse for the morning ride at 0730 when the ride did not actually start until 0900. Apparently Mark shows up early every morning to get in some miles before the rest of the group shows up and he graciously allowed me to latch on to his back wheel. The group ride, which started at 0900, went out to the Airport again and zigzagged it's way back to the shop via South Augusta. I dabbled with a break away early on pulling 21 - 24 miles per hour on my own up front. Nothing major right now, I'm severely out of cycling shape.
After Thursday's ride Andy informed me that an AJBW road team had been formed while I was away at Fort Meade. Although I whined that I was sloppy and out of shape, Andy offered me the opportunity to be on the team and race under the AJBW label for as long as I am still at Fort Gordon. I momentarily weighed the benefits of returning to the racing world and then...accepted the offer.
As I currently have zero experience in racing on the road I think this will be a good opportunity to break into the field and feel things out with a team of experienced riders to guide me along the way. The current team includes; Matt Williams, Bobby Boham, and Todd Corley and we will all be racing Category 5, essentially the sport class of road racing. Before I can begin racing I have to purchase a membership with USA Cycling and also purchase a Cat 5 racing license. We individuals on the team will be responsible for our own funding, but will promote the Warehouse at all events in return for the use of its name. I currently don't have a race or training schedule, but will post what I know as I know it.
Time to train.
Speaking of bikes I've returned to my old riding ways with the AJBW crew on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. These young legs are certainly feeling it too, since I've been off of the bicycle for far too long.
On Thursday I got the quads loose on a lovely 24 mile spin from the Warehouse to the Airport and up that "huge hill that has a water tower on it", before returning to the Warehouse. This morning I rode an accidental 12 mile leg down Walton Way with a guy named Mark. I say accidental, because I accidentally arrived at the Warehouse for the morning ride at 0730 when the ride did not actually start until 0900. Apparently Mark shows up early every morning to get in some miles before the rest of the group shows up and he graciously allowed me to latch on to his back wheel. The group ride, which started at 0900, went out to the Airport again and zigzagged it's way back to the shop via South Augusta. I dabbled with a break away early on pulling 21 - 24 miles per hour on my own up front. Nothing major right now, I'm severely out of cycling shape.
After Thursday's ride Andy informed me that an AJBW road team had been formed while I was away at Fort Meade. Although I whined that I was sloppy and out of shape, Andy offered me the opportunity to be on the team and race under the AJBW label for as long as I am still at Fort Gordon. I momentarily weighed the benefits of returning to the racing world and then...accepted the offer.
As I currently have zero experience in racing on the road I think this will be a good opportunity to break into the field and feel things out with a team of experienced riders to guide me along the way. The current team includes; Matt Williams, Bobby Boham, and Todd Corley and we will all be racing Category 5, essentially the sport class of road racing. Before I can begin racing I have to purchase a membership with USA Cycling and also purchase a Cat 5 racing license. We individuals on the team will be responsible for our own funding, but will promote the Warehouse at all events in return for the use of its name. I currently don't have a race or training schedule, but will post what I know as I know it.
Time to train.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Nonsense: Rome
I woke up when the drool that was hanging from my chin broke free from my lip and splattered on the front of my black Thursday zipper hoody. In a state of mass chaotic sleep confusion I dashed out of the Metro car just as the doors were closing thinking that I had slept through my stop. Naturally, it wasn't until the Metro had pulled away that I realized I was terribly incorrect and that my stop to transfer to the Green line and back to my Jeep was, in fact, the next stop, L'enfant. So, I continued on foot to the next Green line station to catch a train home and close my Sunday of skateboarding in D.C.
Sunday had been quite nice, somewhere around 50 degrees and sunny. I did my best throughout the day to not be shown up by a boisterous crowd of 13 year old skaters. After a solid three hours of knee shattering ollies, kickflips, and frontside 180's, I kick-flipped my adventure switch back to tourist mode and hopped on the Metro for a ride south to Alexandria and King Street. The grandeur of King Street had been related to me by an acquaintance at Fort Gordon, so I had made a point to explore the area. King Street was old. A relic of the past now filled with cafes, bookstores, and various ethnic dining restaurants. Ethnic restaurants are really of no value to the experienced brown bagger.
Sorry tourist economy. Also, sorry I'm not sorry for being cheap and eating bagels. They are so delicious and free when acquired at the Wingate Inn.
Flashing back to Saturday, St Patty's Day...
A snap of winter weather had unleashed on the Metro area on Friday and I was forced to don my beanie, scarf, and gloves for my adventure in the city on Saturday. The March winds were howling and nipping at my exposed white boy face. My plan for the day was to have no plan, so I strolled to the Mall and set my sights on the red castle of the Smithsonian Institute. Multiple branches of the Institute were close for various reasons to include renovations and the line to enter the Air and Space Museum was horrendously long, so I made way for the National Art Gallery, instead, which had no line.
I'm not one to engage in long and lazy strolls through galleries. Sculptures will capture my attention, but only for approximately 30 minutes time. I did a quick walk about through the entirety of the gallery and then exited for the Pentagon.
The Pentagon, eh? I personally don't protest "The War", but I was curious to witness the actions of a crowd of thousands of American citizens who are in opposition of the decisions of our President, George W. Bush. Unfortunately, I actually missed the rally itself and only witnessed a line of protesters trudging across the Arlington Memorial Bridge, blaze orange impeachment signs in hand. So, I followed them, eavesdropping on conversations laced with disagreement, hate, and St. Patty's day drinking plans. Somewhere on the other side of the Potomac I found Georgetown, a quaint yet higher end feeling shopping district. Oh, there's a university there too.
I traveled home as the sun dipped behind the horizon.
Being that it was St. Patty's Day and I wasn't wearing a lick of green I did celebrate the holiday at the Ruby Tuesday which can be found down the street from my hotel. I partook in the drinking of some coconut rum, which was good, and some sleep in my personal Wingate Inn king sized bed. It is so wonderful.
That was Saturday, Sunday is at the top of the page. You can read it again, but I wouldn't recommend it. I'll be leaving this grand location of Maryland on Wednesday, the 21st, destined for the dreaded "dirty south".
Pray for my soul.
Sunday had been quite nice, somewhere around 50 degrees and sunny. I did my best throughout the day to not be shown up by a boisterous crowd of 13 year old skaters. After a solid three hours of knee shattering ollies, kickflips, and frontside 180's, I kick-flipped my adventure switch back to tourist mode and hopped on the Metro for a ride south to Alexandria and King Street. The grandeur of King Street had been related to me by an acquaintance at Fort Gordon, so I had made a point to explore the area. King Street was old. A relic of the past now filled with cafes, bookstores, and various ethnic dining restaurants. Ethnic restaurants are really of no value to the experienced brown bagger.
Sorry tourist economy. Also, sorry I'm not sorry for being cheap and eating bagels. They are so delicious and free when acquired at the Wingate Inn.
Flashing back to Saturday, St Patty's Day...
A snap of winter weather had unleashed on the Metro area on Friday and I was forced to don my beanie, scarf, and gloves for my adventure in the city on Saturday. The March winds were howling and nipping at my exposed white boy face. My plan for the day was to have no plan, so I strolled to the Mall and set my sights on the red castle of the Smithsonian Institute. Multiple branches of the Institute were close for various reasons to include renovations and the line to enter the Air and Space Museum was horrendously long, so I made way for the National Art Gallery, instead, which had no line.
I'm not one to engage in long and lazy strolls through galleries. Sculptures will capture my attention, but only for approximately 30 minutes time. I did a quick walk about through the entirety of the gallery and then exited for the Pentagon.
The Pentagon, eh? I personally don't protest "The War", but I was curious to witness the actions of a crowd of thousands of American citizens who are in opposition of the decisions of our President, George W. Bush. Unfortunately, I actually missed the rally itself and only witnessed a line of protesters trudging across the Arlington Memorial Bridge, blaze orange impeachment signs in hand. So, I followed them, eavesdropping on conversations laced with disagreement, hate, and St. Patty's day drinking plans. Somewhere on the other side of the Potomac I found Georgetown, a quaint yet higher end feeling shopping district. Oh, there's a university there too.
I traveled home as the sun dipped behind the horizon.
Being that it was St. Patty's Day and I wasn't wearing a lick of green I did celebrate the holiday at the Ruby Tuesday which can be found down the street from my hotel. I partook in the drinking of some coconut rum, which was good, and some sleep in my personal Wingate Inn king sized bed. It is so wonderful.
That was Saturday, Sunday is at the top of the page. You can read it again, but I wouldn't recommend it. I'll be leaving this grand location of Maryland on Wednesday, the 21st, destined for the dreaded "dirty south".
Pray for my soul.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Journeys: The Nation's Capitol
For some reason the interior of the Metro made me think of space travel. Not just any space travel though, 1960's space travel. The shape of the cars was mostly sleek, the inside was well lit, and somehow there was a futuristic feel in the atmosphere. Why do I apply the description, 1960's space travel? I suppose it was the color of the seats and carpet that brought forth a retro tingling. The seats, which were made of a vinyl material, were blue, red, and yellow, but not just any blue, red, and yellow. The colors were faded, or were they? Their hue made me think of the inside of my Grandfather Bolte's living room which contained an ancient and enormous 8 track player. Perhaps "faded" is an inappropriate term. I will choose to utilize "that of the 60's" in the place of "faded". So, the seats which were saturated in colors that were that of the 60's were complimented by the carpeted Metro floor which was maroon which flecks of blue that were both, of course, that of the 60's. Is this same mindset provoked in any other traveler's brain? I would doubt it. Does any of this really matter? Absolutely not.
My eyes wandered from the advertisements posted inside the car in which I was seated to the outer realm of the Metro Green Line and I watched as the buildings flickered past. We descended slightly, entered a tunnel, and continued to clack-clack our way toward Washington, D.C.
I was with a group of Army friends, some stationed at Fort Meade, others simply visiting like myself. We began our astronautical journey at the Navy Memorial just North of the Mall. The Navy Memorial is something of a plaza with a large stone depiction of the the Earth's surface lying off camber in the ground. Everyone in the group stood on the relative location of their respective homes and took a moment to reflect on that which they were away from.
Our next stop was the National Archives. Our tourist timing was perfect that morning and so was the weather. Where one would normally find a snaking line of human beings leading to the chamber containing the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution we found a short pygmy snake of a line of other early risers. We passed through a security checkpoint and proceeded to the documents. I first looked upon the Constitution, the founding document of American life, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Next, I gazed at a terribly faded Declaration of Independence barely able to witness the most famous of John Hancock's, John Hancock's signature. We did not stay long and were eventually paraded into a gift shop of false Constitutions and Declarations as well as other prettily plastic trinkets purely in stock for the distraction of your eager child who was mostly bored with standing in line to see some raggedy scrap of paper.
Back outside things were heating up. I began removing layers of jacket so that I could enjoy the wonderful 60 degree Spring weather. We strolled West along the Mall past numerous museums and exhibits to include the Smithsonian. We were focusing on those memorials that could be found outside under the sun, knowing full well that a person could get lost for days in places like the American History Museum or the National Gallery of Art.
We walked for what felt like miles towards the shining white of the Washington Monument with the Capitol Building looming at our backs. When we arrived we discovered that the day's elevator tickets had already been distributed and there wasn't a chance in hell that we were getting to the top of the pinnacle for a bird's eye view of the downtown area. Instead, we were discarded to the World War II memorial and left to walk across a drained Reflecting Pool to the Lincoln Memorial. At this point Forrest Gump references were polluting the air, everyone describing the sight of Jenny and Forrest splashing into each other's arms near where we were currently walking.
I always thought Jenny was such a bitch to Forrest too.
Standing in the shadow of Lincoln I thought of Wayne's World, fuck Forrest Gump. Remember that part where Wayne says to Garth,
"If she were a president here name would be Baberaham Lincoln."
Anyway...
We then moved on to the newer Vietnam Memorial not without having to endure odd smelling "patch" vendors full of American pride. Across the street from the Mall (generally) lies the house of the President, past and present, the White House. Posted on the roof is a sniper, yin, and posted at the front gate is the small tarp hut of a 24 hour peace protester, yang. The two women manning the tarpaulin hut of peace have been standing, or sitting rather since 1981. It's now 2007. That would be 26 years. Older than me to be honest. Their antics were mildly entertaining.
Continuing our tour of the city our group fell hungry on Chinatown, situated around the Verizon Center, home to the Washington Wizards. We devoured foodstuffs at Fuddruckers, my first time in the establishment. I did not partake in the eats of course, being the cheap bastard I am, I proudly consumed my ham and cheese bagel and cup of chocolate pudding amidst an array of hamburgers and french fries.
After lunch the group split. The majority returned to the Green line and back to their vehicle, but my friend, Chris Rucci, and I continued the adventure by riding the Red Line to the National Zoo, which is free, for cheap bastards.
I find it conveniently intriguing to rediscover how much more interesting aspects of your childhood are when you revisit them as an adult. Instead of, "Mommy! Mommy! Look at the lion.", it is, "That lion is an amazing and beautiful creature and I am lucky to be able to observe it in its caged majesty, stalking back and forth in its lair."
Such are the complexities of the wild kingdom.
Chris and I spent about two hours strolling through the zoo seeing the speedy cheetah, the ugly sloth bear, the intelligent and human orangutan, and the dirty assed, yet lovable Panda Bear. I am thankful for the experience.
We boarded the Metro once again after six hours in the city and clack-clacked our way back to the lonely parking lot where my rented Jeep Cherokee awaited us.
Overall, I enjoyed Washington. It is different from other large cities due largely to the fact that its skyline does not rise above the Capitol Building, stealing away some of the urban feeling. All is not lost. It is still a respectable city in which to live and I, now armed with my tome of apartment finding, will one day find a decent living space in the Nation's Capitol.
If I get to PCS to Fort Meade of course.
My eyes wandered from the advertisements posted inside the car in which I was seated to the outer realm of the Metro Green Line and I watched as the buildings flickered past. We descended slightly, entered a tunnel, and continued to clack-clack our way toward Washington, D.C.
I was with a group of Army friends, some stationed at Fort Meade, others simply visiting like myself. We began our astronautical journey at the Navy Memorial just North of the Mall. The Navy Memorial is something of a plaza with a large stone depiction of the the Earth's surface lying off camber in the ground. Everyone in the group stood on the relative location of their respective homes and took a moment to reflect on that which they were away from.
Our next stop was the National Archives. Our tourist timing was perfect that morning and so was the weather. Where one would normally find a snaking line of human beings leading to the chamber containing the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution we found a short pygmy snake of a line of other early risers. We passed through a security checkpoint and proceeded to the documents. I first looked upon the Constitution, the founding document of American life, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Next, I gazed at a terribly faded Declaration of Independence barely able to witness the most famous of John Hancock's, John Hancock's signature. We did not stay long and were eventually paraded into a gift shop of false Constitutions and Declarations as well as other prettily plastic trinkets purely in stock for the distraction of your eager child who was mostly bored with standing in line to see some raggedy scrap of paper.
Back outside things were heating up. I began removing layers of jacket so that I could enjoy the wonderful 60 degree Spring weather. We strolled West along the Mall past numerous museums and exhibits to include the Smithsonian. We were focusing on those memorials that could be found outside under the sun, knowing full well that a person could get lost for days in places like the American History Museum or the National Gallery of Art.
We walked for what felt like miles towards the shining white of the Washington Monument with the Capitol Building looming at our backs. When we arrived we discovered that the day's elevator tickets had already been distributed and there wasn't a chance in hell that we were getting to the top of the pinnacle for a bird's eye view of the downtown area. Instead, we were discarded to the World War II memorial and left to walk across a drained Reflecting Pool to the Lincoln Memorial. At this point Forrest Gump references were polluting the air, everyone describing the sight of Jenny and Forrest splashing into each other's arms near where we were currently walking.
I always thought Jenny was such a bitch to Forrest too.
Standing in the shadow of Lincoln I thought of Wayne's World, fuck Forrest Gump. Remember that part where Wayne says to Garth,
"If she were a president here name would be Baberaham Lincoln."
Anyway...
We then moved on to the newer Vietnam Memorial not without having to endure odd smelling "patch" vendors full of American pride. Across the street from the Mall (generally) lies the house of the President, past and present, the White House. Posted on the roof is a sniper, yin, and posted at the front gate is the small tarp hut of a 24 hour peace protester, yang. The two women manning the tarpaulin hut of peace have been standing, or sitting rather since 1981. It's now 2007. That would be 26 years. Older than me to be honest. Their antics were mildly entertaining.
Continuing our tour of the city our group fell hungry on Chinatown, situated around the Verizon Center, home to the Washington Wizards. We devoured foodstuffs at Fuddruckers, my first time in the establishment. I did not partake in the eats of course, being the cheap bastard I am, I proudly consumed my ham and cheese bagel and cup of chocolate pudding amidst an array of hamburgers and french fries.
After lunch the group split. The majority returned to the Green line and back to their vehicle, but my friend, Chris Rucci, and I continued the adventure by riding the Red Line to the National Zoo, which is free, for cheap bastards.
I find it conveniently intriguing to rediscover how much more interesting aspects of your childhood are when you revisit them as an adult. Instead of, "Mommy! Mommy! Look at the lion.", it is, "That lion is an amazing and beautiful creature and I am lucky to be able to observe it in its caged majesty, stalking back and forth in its lair."
Such are the complexities of the wild kingdom.
Chris and I spent about two hours strolling through the zoo seeing the speedy cheetah, the ugly sloth bear, the intelligent and human orangutan, and the dirty assed, yet lovable Panda Bear. I am thankful for the experience.
We boarded the Metro once again after six hours in the city and clack-clacked our way back to the lonely parking lot where my rented Jeep Cherokee awaited us.
Overall, I enjoyed Washington. It is different from other large cities due largely to the fact that its skyline does not rise above the Capitol Building, stealing away some of the urban feeling. All is not lost. It is still a respectable city in which to live and I, now armed with my tome of apartment finding, will one day find a decent living space in the Nation's Capitol.
If I get to PCS to Fort Meade of course.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Nonsense: I Do Not Have Mono!
I was extremely tired and woozy throughout the day of Mon, but I alleviated those woes with approximately 11 hours of sleep on Monday night.
Q: True or false. Charles experienced the shortest case of Mono known to humanity.
A: False. Without getting extremely techinical and having to use mind boggling collegiate vocabulary, experts would have to say that it is has been scientifically proven that Charles was just well beyond tired and had to rest up for the realest.
I hope that clears up any doubts or suspicions.
It snowed in the DC Metro area today. It was almost a drizzle of snow. Small stubborn flakes that incesstantly poured from the sky, but produced no real accumulation or hazardous driving conditions. Not the kind of snow that would cancel "school".
Anyway, there really isn't much to report from Army land.
Q: True or false. Charles experienced the shortest case of Mono known to humanity.
A: False. Without getting extremely techinical and having to use mind boggling collegiate vocabulary, experts would have to say that it is has been scientifically proven that Charles was just well beyond tired and had to rest up for the realest.
I hope that clears up any doubts or suspicions.
It snowed in the DC Metro area today. It was almost a drizzle of snow. Small stubborn flakes that incesstantly poured from the sky, but produced no real accumulation or hazardous driving conditions. Not the kind of snow that would cancel "school".
Anyway, there really isn't much to report from Army land.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Nonsense: Snowshoe
I'm tired. I think I have mono.
I cancelled my "DC" plans for this weekend to go snowboarding with Steve and Karen at the great Snowshoe Mountain Resort. We got some awesome powder Saturday night which brought forth some kick ass shredding on Sunday.
I'd write a few more words, but I'm really tired. I think I have mono.
I cancelled my "DC" plans for this weekend to go snowboarding with Steve and Karen at the great Snowshoe Mountain Resort. We got some awesome powder Saturday night which brought forth some kick ass shredding on Sunday.
I'd write a few more words, but I'm really tired. I think I have mono.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Journeys: Fort Meade
Maryland, here I am!
Begin flash back here…
The adventure to Maryland began on Sunday, and what a Sunday it was in Georgia. It was sunny, warm, and the air still smelt of dog shit. My itinerary consisted of two short legs; a 30-minute flight from Augusta to Charlotte and then another equally short flight from Charlotte to Baltimore. Upon arrival at Baltimore I was to retrieve a rental car, lodging, and then be ready for class on Monday morning.
Things went quite well between Augusta and Charlotte, but the situation rapidly and significantly digressed when I arrived in Charlotte. On top of my standard two hour lay over, it began raining, snow rolled into the DC Metro area, flights attained the status of “cancelled”, and the civilians around me became very hot tempered and frustrated. Fortunately my flight to Baltimore was not cancelled, initially, but we passengers did go through a routine similar to musical chairs.
Except there was no music and we had to stand in line too.
We proceeded to board and deplane our flight three times over the course of two hours due to a mechanical error that was occurring in the cockpit. To calm the distraught passengers, the crew acquired another aircraft, one that had no mechanical problems, and with a collective sigh of relief we quietly boarded. In spite of our frustrating delays we soon learned, after settling into our seats, that there was a ground stop in effect at Baltimore and our flight was going nowhere fast. The tempers flared to new levels, voices were raised, and our flight was cancelled.
Snow, snow, snow. I, for one, like it.
Using the Army's dime I gladly purchased a hotel room for the night and ate a chocolate chip waffle at the Waffle House before slipping into bed early in preparation for my departure in the morning.
The following Monday morning while on my flight to Philadelphia (I had been rerouted) I dozed on and off while watching Cranium Trivia on the in flight TV. I now know that Wonder Woman has a lasso and that lasso has a magical power and that magical power is to make people tell the truth. People, being the liars that we are. I was soon considering the following question; what happens if Wonder Woman strikes Superman with this lasso? Will it have a reverse effect, causing Superman to spout lies from his Super mouth, or will he just say,
"Dammit bitch, that shit hurts!"
OK, ok. After the City of Brotherly Love it was onward to Baltimore. Upon my arrival I wasted absolutely zero time in acquiring my rental car and hotel room before attempting to check in with my school leader at Fort Meade. Of course, the time was 1500 and everyone associated with the school I was attending had disappeared for the day. I went to bed.
On Tuesday I was informed that, since I missed the first day of class I had been dropped from the school and would be forced to attend the next class, which starts on Monday. Of course, when I informed those personnel in charge of my life back at Fort Gordon they gasped, threw up their arms, and instructed me to immediately proceed to the airport and fly my happy ass home. Well, while I was driving to the airport they called me again and instructed me to NOT fly my happy ass home and further instructed me to standby for the next class to start on Monday.
Since Tuesday I have done much adventuring and exploring in the Fort Meade/Baltimore/DC area for places to possibly live in the near future upon PCS to Fort Meade. Of all the places that I have visited this week, which were all of the suburban nature, I have found one area that is desirable for the establishment of my future humble abode. Crofton, MD. It has lovely housing, but the main attraction is the, oh so close by, Village at Waugh Chapel which is the keeper of Bike Doctor of Crofton and Owens Skate/Board/Ski. Other areas that were visited in my journeys were graded accordingly.
College Park: B+.
Bowie: B+.
Laurel: B-.
Odenton: D-.
Glen Burnie: D-.
Crownsville: F+.
Elkridge: F-.
Catonsville: F-.
South Baltimore: F-. Wow! This place sucks!
Annapolis, of course, is beautiful, but I no longer have the desire to live there. It appears that Washington, DC may be the only real suitable urban environment in which to live, but it will be difficult to live there and commute to the Fort during the week, but I’ll try it if I can find an affordable place to live. This is all also dependent on my actual PCS to Fort Meade from Fort Gordon.
Pray for my little soul…please.
This weekend I'll be linking up with an old Soldier buddy from Korea who now lives in the area and we have plans to run rampant across downtown DC taking in the sights and certainly not taking pictures. If your jealous...don't be jealous, just come on down and hang out!
P.S. Awesome new website folks. Check it out.
Begin flash back here…
The adventure to Maryland began on Sunday, and what a Sunday it was in Georgia. It was sunny, warm, and the air still smelt of dog shit. My itinerary consisted of two short legs; a 30-minute flight from Augusta to Charlotte and then another equally short flight from Charlotte to Baltimore. Upon arrival at Baltimore I was to retrieve a rental car, lodging, and then be ready for class on Monday morning.
Things went quite well between Augusta and Charlotte, but the situation rapidly and significantly digressed when I arrived in Charlotte. On top of my standard two hour lay over, it began raining, snow rolled into the DC Metro area, flights attained the status of “cancelled”, and the civilians around me became very hot tempered and frustrated. Fortunately my flight to Baltimore was not cancelled, initially, but we passengers did go through a routine similar to musical chairs.
Except there was no music and we had to stand in line too.
We proceeded to board and deplane our flight three times over the course of two hours due to a mechanical error that was occurring in the cockpit. To calm the distraught passengers, the crew acquired another aircraft, one that had no mechanical problems, and with a collective sigh of relief we quietly boarded. In spite of our frustrating delays we soon learned, after settling into our seats, that there was a ground stop in effect at Baltimore and our flight was going nowhere fast. The tempers flared to new levels, voices were raised, and our flight was cancelled.
Snow, snow, snow. I, for one, like it.
Using the Army's dime I gladly purchased a hotel room for the night and ate a chocolate chip waffle at the Waffle House before slipping into bed early in preparation for my departure in the morning.
The following Monday morning while on my flight to Philadelphia (I had been rerouted) I dozed on and off while watching Cranium Trivia on the in flight TV. I now know that Wonder Woman has a lasso and that lasso has a magical power and that magical power is to make people tell the truth. People, being the liars that we are. I was soon considering the following question; what happens if Wonder Woman strikes Superman with this lasso? Will it have a reverse effect, causing Superman to spout lies from his Super mouth, or will he just say,
"Dammit bitch, that shit hurts!"
OK, ok. After the City of Brotherly Love it was onward to Baltimore. Upon my arrival I wasted absolutely zero time in acquiring my rental car and hotel room before attempting to check in with my school leader at Fort Meade. Of course, the time was 1500 and everyone associated with the school I was attending had disappeared for the day. I went to bed.
On Tuesday I was informed that, since I missed the first day of class I had been dropped from the school and would be forced to attend the next class, which starts on Monday. Of course, when I informed those personnel in charge of my life back at Fort Gordon they gasped, threw up their arms, and instructed me to immediately proceed to the airport and fly my happy ass home. Well, while I was driving to the airport they called me again and instructed me to NOT fly my happy ass home and further instructed me to standby for the next class to start on Monday.
Since Tuesday I have done much adventuring and exploring in the Fort Meade/Baltimore/DC area for places to possibly live in the near future upon PCS to Fort Meade. Of all the places that I have visited this week, which were all of the suburban nature, I have found one area that is desirable for the establishment of my future humble abode. Crofton, MD. It has lovely housing, but the main attraction is the, oh so close by, Village at Waugh Chapel which is the keeper of Bike Doctor of Crofton and Owens Skate/Board/Ski. Other areas that were visited in my journeys were graded accordingly.
College Park: B+.
Bowie: B+.
Laurel: B-.
Odenton: D-.
Glen Burnie: D-.
Crownsville: F+.
Elkridge: F-.
Catonsville: F-.
South Baltimore: F-. Wow! This place sucks!
Annapolis, of course, is beautiful, but I no longer have the desire to live there. It appears that Washington, DC may be the only real suitable urban environment in which to live, but it will be difficult to live there and commute to the Fort during the week, but I’ll try it if I can find an affordable place to live. This is all also dependent on my actual PCS to Fort Meade from Fort Gordon.
Pray for my little soul…please.
This weekend I'll be linking up with an old Soldier buddy from Korea who now lives in the area and we have plans to run rampant across downtown DC taking in the sights and certainly not taking pictures. If your jealous...don't be jealous, just come on down and hang out!
P.S. Awesome new website folks. Check it out.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Nonsense: Catching Up
It rained earlier this week. The air smelled strongly of dog shit and I frequently checked the soles of my boots to ensure that I hadn't inadvertently stepped in a pile of the disturbing substance.
No, it wasn't me...just Georgia.
Since returning to Fort Gordon, life has been just like WLC, Army. I've had slightly more responsibility at work forcing me to work a few extra hours during the week and put the needs of others before my own. I even got to work through a weekend by moving all my personal belongings from one barracks room to another and attending an M16 qualification range.
Fortunately, I was rewarded the next weekend with a 4-day pass which I took full advantage of by flying to Chicago to see The Trish and her feline companion, Mr. Neville Thatcher. Chicago was piss cold, but beautiful nonetheless. We opted to be tourists on a Sunday and rode a rocket of an elevator to the top of the Sears Tower to catch a glimpse of the city from 103 floors above ground level. The sky was clear and the city lay below us in all its urban majesty and glory. After our return to Earth, The Trish coughed up five bucks to a bum and we ate lunch.
Good times.
The riding of late has been somewhat scant. I did ride on a weekend who's date I cannot remember and was able to muster enough strength to break the chain off of my single speed on a down pedal two-thirds of the way into my ride. The walk back to the truck was long and I lazily have not ordered or purchased a new chain. Today, I showed up for the 0830 Warehouse ride and got in a wonderful spin with about eight other riders. One rider, who I spent most of the ride talking to, had just moved to Georgia from WVU where he had been attending grad school for the past five years. We swapped war stories from our life and times in the great state of West Virginny and I promised him a smorgasbord of trail information in regard to his new home in the durrrrty south. The ride itself was tough as Nate led us up four significant climbs that dropped me to the back of the pack and left my young body in confusion and fatigue.
Seven solid weeks out of the saddle is not good. Not good.
In other news, I will be flying to Fort Meade, MD on Sunday to attend a job related school for the next three weeks. I will also seek out various bike shops, trails, and pubs in the area to shake hands and prepare for my unofficial change of station to my new home.
Reality or fantasy...hopefully we will know in a few short weeks.
Get Riding!
No, it wasn't me...just Georgia.
Since returning to Fort Gordon, life has been just like WLC, Army. I've had slightly more responsibility at work forcing me to work a few extra hours during the week and put the needs of others before my own. I even got to work through a weekend by moving all my personal belongings from one barracks room to another and attending an M16 qualification range.
Fortunately, I was rewarded the next weekend with a 4-day pass which I took full advantage of by flying to Chicago to see The Trish and her feline companion, Mr. Neville Thatcher. Chicago was piss cold, but beautiful nonetheless. We opted to be tourists on a Sunday and rode a rocket of an elevator to the top of the Sears Tower to catch a glimpse of the city from 103 floors above ground level. The sky was clear and the city lay below us in all its urban majesty and glory. After our return to Earth, The Trish coughed up five bucks to a bum and we ate lunch.
Good times.
The riding of late has been somewhat scant. I did ride on a weekend who's date I cannot remember and was able to muster enough strength to break the chain off of my single speed on a down pedal two-thirds of the way into my ride. The walk back to the truck was long and I lazily have not ordered or purchased a new chain. Today, I showed up for the 0830 Warehouse ride and got in a wonderful spin with about eight other riders. One rider, who I spent most of the ride talking to, had just moved to Georgia from WVU where he had been attending grad school for the past five years. We swapped war stories from our life and times in the great state of West Virginny and I promised him a smorgasbord of trail information in regard to his new home in the durrrrty south. The ride itself was tough as Nate led us up four significant climbs that dropped me to the back of the pack and left my young body in confusion and fatigue.
Seven solid weeks out of the saddle is not good. Not good.
In other news, I will be flying to Fort Meade, MD on Sunday to attend a job related school for the next three weeks. I will also seek out various bike shops, trails, and pubs in the area to shake hands and prepare for my unofficial change of station to my new home.
Reality or fantasy...hopefully we will know in a few short weeks.
Get Riding!
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Journeys: Ending With A Crash (Bang)
Two weeks of classroom instruction, a week long field exercise, and a final week of sitting on my ass. The warrior leader course (a.k.a. sergeant school) is now over, and yes readers, I am now a warrior leader. I even have an official looking diploma.
The atmosphere at the graduation ceremony was one of jubilation and glee. "Hell" was over and we were finally allowed to return to our respective homes and booze things up with our respective drinks of choice. After the ceremony I hopped into a van with a few other Soldiers of the 513th, grabbed lunch, and set sail for Fort Gordon. My belly was full and my eye lids were heavy. I unbuckled my seat belt, laid down in my seat and promptly fell asleep.
The crash was mostly subconscious for me. I was dreamily flung forward into the back of the seat in front of me, creating a hasty mold of my sleeping form in the gray material, before falling in a heap on the van floor. I wasn't entirely awake at this point, but the screams from the front seats grabbed my attention. I opened my eyes and then the situation finally became very real. At first I wasn't sure of, well, a lot of things. Was the van upside down, was I dead, was I upside down, was I paralyzed, am I still in WLC? Fortunately, I was uninjured and sat up ready to react to the possible destruction in front of me.
After an initial "freak out" session we discovered that everyone was alive and it appeared that the only injuries were a busted lip and a sprained ankle. We Soldiers exited the van and took note of the results of the event from the side of the interstate. It appeared that we had rear ended a large truck while changing lanes in preparation for our exit from I-285 to I-20. The front of the van was accordioned back to the front of the frame and the windshield was shattered. I was informed that we had struck the truck while we were traveling at approximately 60 miles per hour. The van was totalled.
We stood in the cold staring at the destruction that now blocked two lanes of traffic waiting for emergency personnel to arrive. When they did they determined that I, for one, was free of injury, but the sprained ankle would have to be transported to the hospital for further evaluation.
The adrenaline had finally subsided and I could now feel the cold of the air seeping into my skin. As we prepared to leave the scene in various other vehicles I took a moment took look into the wondering eyes of motorist goose necking past us in the open lane of traffic. I recalled multiple occasions where I had been seated in a safe and secure vehicle my eyes glued to a traffic accident and its victims.
How did I feel to be on the receiving end of all the stares?
Lucky.
The atmosphere at the graduation ceremony was one of jubilation and glee. "Hell" was over and we were finally allowed to return to our respective homes and booze things up with our respective drinks of choice. After the ceremony I hopped into a van with a few other Soldiers of the 513th, grabbed lunch, and set sail for Fort Gordon. My belly was full and my eye lids were heavy. I unbuckled my seat belt, laid down in my seat and promptly fell asleep.
The crash was mostly subconscious for me. I was dreamily flung forward into the back of the seat in front of me, creating a hasty mold of my sleeping form in the gray material, before falling in a heap on the van floor. I wasn't entirely awake at this point, but the screams from the front seats grabbed my attention. I opened my eyes and then the situation finally became very real. At first I wasn't sure of, well, a lot of things. Was the van upside down, was I dead, was I upside down, was I paralyzed, am I still in WLC? Fortunately, I was uninjured and sat up ready to react to the possible destruction in front of me.
After an initial "freak out" session we discovered that everyone was alive and it appeared that the only injuries were a busted lip and a sprained ankle. We Soldiers exited the van and took note of the results of the event from the side of the interstate. It appeared that we had rear ended a large truck while changing lanes in preparation for our exit from I-285 to I-20. The front of the van was accordioned back to the front of the frame and the windshield was shattered. I was informed that we had struck the truck while we were traveling at approximately 60 miles per hour. The van was totalled.
We stood in the cold staring at the destruction that now blocked two lanes of traffic waiting for emergency personnel to arrive. When they did they determined that I, for one, was free of injury, but the sprained ankle would have to be transported to the hospital for further evaluation.
The adrenaline had finally subsided and I could now feel the cold of the air seeping into my skin. As we prepared to leave the scene in various other vehicles I took a moment took look into the wondering eyes of motorist goose necking past us in the open lane of traffic. I recalled multiple occasions where I had been seated in a safe and secure vehicle my eyes glued to a traffic accident and its victims.
How did I feel to be on the receiving end of all the stares?
Lucky.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Nonsense: Is This What A Computer Looks Like?
Ok, ok, it's only been two weeks. I really do remember what a computer looks like. I'm still capable of typing too.
So, here I sit, daintily, at the Fort Benning Library paying bills and getting denied access to myspace.com. The atmosphere outside is cold. Cold and damp. Freezing cold and damp. A light drizzle has been in effect all day and now street lamps cast quivering dashes of yellow across the tops of parking lot puddles. The sight reminds me of a painter's brush of water color.
"The library will be closing in 12 minutes", a voice calls to my right. I turn to see an older woman with a baby blue shirt looking in my direction. The greenish stains down her front are amusing. Was she busy painting up the scene outside when she accidentally spilled the yellow of the street lamps down her shirt. Is she really the goddess of inky nights who has taken up hiding in this small library? Or are the stains simply that of a toddler vomitting his recently emptied bottle onto her toddler blue shirt?
Sergeant school has been interesting. I was extremely bitter about the prospect at first, but upon realizing that I must accept those things that I cannot change I decided that a more positive attitude would be better suited for overcoming these four trying weeks in my life.
Life is routine. Life is Army. There are no fantastic bicycles to ride, no snowboards. Just 0430 formations and Airborne school standing proudly across the street. February 2nd will be a good day.
The library is closed.
So, here I sit, daintily, at the Fort Benning Library paying bills and getting denied access to myspace.com. The atmosphere outside is cold. Cold and damp. Freezing cold and damp. A light drizzle has been in effect all day and now street lamps cast quivering dashes of yellow across the tops of parking lot puddles. The sight reminds me of a painter's brush of water color.
"The library will be closing in 12 minutes", a voice calls to my right. I turn to see an older woman with a baby blue shirt looking in my direction. The greenish stains down her front are amusing. Was she busy painting up the scene outside when she accidentally spilled the yellow of the street lamps down her shirt. Is she really the goddess of inky nights who has taken up hiding in this small library? Or are the stains simply that of a toddler vomitting his recently emptied bottle onto her toddler blue shirt?
Sergeant school has been interesting. I was extremely bitter about the prospect at first, but upon realizing that I must accept those things that I cannot change I decided that a more positive attitude would be better suited for overcoming these four trying weeks in my life.
Life is routine. Life is Army. There are no fantastic bicycles to ride, no snowboards. Just 0430 formations and Airborne school standing proudly across the street. February 2nd will be a good day.
The library is closed.
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