One More for Love The Story: Chapter 2 - Stacking the Odds

Six a.m. came early that next morning. Drained from jet lag and late night television (Home Improvement reruns are my weakness), I forced open one blood shot eye to see the blurry, but accurate, 6:20 a.m. staring right at me proving the old adage: “hit snooze once shame on me, hit snooze twice wake up in a spastic frenzy!” Like anyone who has ten minutes to be out the door, I started to mentally separate the needs from the wants of my morning routine. Here we go.

Shower: want. They make some pretty high powered deodorant these days. I spread some on and moved to the next item. Shave: need. Blasted military regulations. Brush teeth: need. Ok, these two needs could both be done in the bathroom. Better yet, they could be done at the same time! Too risky. The chance of confusing my toothbrush for my razor was too high in my groggy state. I settled for an electric shave and some mouth wash. Uniform: need. Iron uniform: want. Boots: need. Shine boots: want. At 6:30 exactly I was headed down the hallway toward the check-in counter meeting minimum uniform requirements in every category.

Selena was waiting for me at the check-in counter, on time. I knew she was completely aware of my appearance and probably thought I’d slept on a card board box with my head next to a dumpster last night, but I didn’t care. Who was I trying to impress? If there was one thing I was keenly aware of in the military it was the guy to girl ratio. Depending on the career field, some of the ratios are as follows:

Medical – 3:1

Admin – 4:1

Maintenance – 50:1

I know, it looks sexist, but those are the breaks. Most women who join end up in medical, dental, finance, and admin while very few land with us in maintenance. Also, it didn’t help matters that Selena was maintenance and married which meant, assuming there was going to be at least one other female in the squadron of any shape or size, there would be ninety-nine other guys in the pursuit. These are guys who had been there for years, putting their respective plans into action and at different phases of the relationship building process. I was outnumbered, unfamiliar with the territory, and most likely the lowest ranking person there. Needless to say, my motivation was as worn as my uniform.

When we got to the squadron Selena took me through a side door of the two story main office building to report in. After a quick check in, as we walked down the hallway, Selena explained to me that we would be going out to the flightline which was where the planes were parked for maintenance while awaiting future missions. Then she directed me to wait by the front door once we got outside while she went to check out a tool box.

Once we got outside, Selena left for the tool crib and I did as I was told. Standing by the front door, I got my first look at the flightline. It was as if everything was put on fast forward. There were large, light blue bread trucks that sped around a loading area stopping in front of each of the two massive buildings in the loading area. At every stop, a set of airman would file out of the back of the truck carrying tools and test equipment while another set would file onto the truck carrying equipment of their own. Coming in from every direction I could hear the keying of walkie-talkies and fluent speaking of the phonetic alphabet. At the end of my scan, beyond the loading area, directly to my right, I saw two of the massive C-5 Galaxy aircrafts parked side by side on the flightline. I was completely intimidated. Not only did I have no idea what was going on, it just hit me that I would be responsible for maintaining the largest aircraft in the Air Force…where do I hide?

With a sudden onset anxiety attack, I pinned myself against the wall. Hey, maybe if I stood there long enough I would blend into the brick like a chameleon to a branch. I was wearing camouflage...come on nature, give me a chance. As you can probably guess by now, I started listing ways I could get myself off of this base, back to California, out of the military, and in a job where people’s lives weren’t depending on the success of my technical aptitude. I’d make a great T.V. critic; wonder if they’re hiring. But, before I could manage one decent plan of escape, a light blue bread truck stopped right in front of me. The back door flew open and out jumped Selena.

“Come on Hart, let’s go!” She yelled.

With no time to think, I jumped in the truck, put my head down, and grabbed a seat at the rear of the vehicle on one of the two long benches that ran across the walls. There were other people talking around me, but I continued to keep my head down. I didn’t want to risk them asking me a question that I would, without a doubt, not have an answer to. I even tried not to eaves drop, but as they continued to talk amongst each other I couldn’t help but over hear a female say she had recorded an audition tape for the show Survivor. I lifted my head slightly and glanced up to see a woman I would never forget.


* Tune in next Thursday for Chapter three and to find out the give away winner. The give away item will be announced on Monday's post.