Yesterday, Dave locked himself out of his apartment.  He blamed it on me "messing up" his routine, and thus forgetting to reach over and grab the keys by the door as we left.  Strange thing was that the previous time that we left, I had asked him if he had his keys, and he did, but he also seemed a little pissed that I would think he would forget.  So I run home, and get my lock pick set.  I have about a 75% success rate on picking locks.  Sometimes it takes 5 minutes, sometimes it takes an hour.  The door isn't actually locked (doors in Italy don't need to be locked, but you will still need the key to open the door), so I only have to pick once, instead of 2 or 3 times.

The door fell squarely into the other 25%.  I pretty much gave up after 15 minutes of so.  THe heckling was getting annoying, too.  Then we try to push the door.  The door is a double door, meaning that the primary door is the one that locks, and the other one is latched so that it holds closed at the floor and the ceiling, and Dave didn't close it at the ceiling.  We try to just shove the door, and maybe create a gap that will open the door.  Then we try to just shove at the bottom to see if we can get at the latch on the inside.  That failed too.  Dave entertains the idea of making a hole in the door to reach through and open it.  He would then have to put us a "Happy Halloween" sign to cover it up, and make up a story about someone else breaking it.  Over time, he would put up new signs, like "Merry Christmas," "Happy New Year," etc., until he fixed the door.  He decides against it since he doesn't want tb break his hand on the door, and we can't find something else to put through it.

Finally, Dave decides that he's had it, and wants to knock the door open.  He backs up 8 feet, takes a running start, and hits the door with his shoulder.  There's a loud noise, and ....

The door has stopped Dave.  We all stop moving to see if it has aroused suspicion with the neighbors.  After two minutes, he tried another running start and tried to kick the door open.  Fails again.  He decides to ask me to take a try.  Time for that taijutsu to come out and play.  I decide that unlike Dave, I don't need a running start.  All I would use is a stomp kick, also known as a push kick.  Basically, you go from standing, then bring your leg up so that you knee comes to your chest.  Then you kick forward, driving your heel into your target.  It's a very short range and powerful kick.

So I stand there, and line up my target, since I want to kick exactly where the lock is, and not put my feet through a weaker part of the door.  Dave thinks I'm going to fail, probably because I'm not trying to run at it like him.  Meanwhile, I line it up once, line it up twice, and....

KICK THE DOOR WIDE OPEN.  And then I walk in quickly, before the neighbors look out their doors.  I am promptly followed by Dave and one of our friends.  And the door is then closed behind us.  When I kicked the door in, I definitely saw some plaster falling from the ceiling.  I also heard other stuff hit the floor:

That is the small latch piece that was keeping the door closed.  Dave was very happy that this was the only damage, because now he wouldn't have to make up some lie about why the door was destroyed.  However, he now has to lock the door so that someone can't just push their way in.

Black 6, out.

Let's see.  I guess the best thing to do is start with the weekend.  Saturday, I had Brigade Staff Duty Officer (SDO).  Basically, it's 24 hours on call, just being at Brigade, in case anything happens.  Along with me is an NCO (SDNCO), and two enlisted soldiers that act as a runner and a driver.  When I get there at 0900, the LT from the previous night tell me that nothing has happened during his shift.  Absolutely nothing.  I think that's pretty sweet, and expect as easy night.

About 30 minutes later, one of the Battalion Staff Duty NCO comes by and says that the 24 hour wait is about up, and they're going to declare a soldier AWOL.  Looks like the original incident (he missed formation) happened before the LT was on duty, so he probably had no idea of it.  We make the decision to hold off a bit, since the soldier was one of the people still in-processing.  They're not allowed to have alcohol or leave post.  Also, the S-1 section keeps track of them, so we assume that there may be a mis-communication between the entities.

An hour or so later, they are able to contact the soldier's roommate, who was able to find the soldier, who was off post, in a hotel.  The battalion, gets him back, and I expect quiet.  Not much later, I get a call, and the SDNCO asks me what the number to the Chaplain is.  I ask why, and apparently in talking to the soldier, he expressed suicidal intentions (talk of suicide).  Wonderful.  I turn around to get the Chaplain's, and I view the first problem of the day: all the listed chaplain numbers are DSN numbers, meaning that they're great if it's Mon - Fri, and they are in their office.  You would think that someone would understand the need for posting cell phone numbers (in my end of duty report, I made this suggestion).  I go through the roster, and find the number for the Brigade Chaplain...who is up in Germany.  Shit.  Oh, and he doesn't have the number for the other Chaplains.  I would figure they would be on holy speed dial or something.

Thinking rationally (probably because I've been playing Brain Age regularly), I call up to SETAF, to get the number of their Chaplain.  Turns out, there is a government cell phone that they pass around, depending who's on duty.  Meanwhile, we're also trying to call the psychiatrist, who is not in today (I'm pretty sure someone is supposed to always be on call), and there is no number to Mental Health.  The chaplain (who managed not to say his name for 6 phone calls.  Talk about Jedi mind tricks) came and talked to the soldier.  Meanwhile, we made the the decision to place guards on him, and watch him until Monday morning, until the clinic opened.  If he showed any attempts to physically harm himself, we'd just admit him to the Psych ward at the Italian hospital.  We also call the Brigade Surgeon, who tries to get a hold of the Brigade Psychiatrist.  BAsically, we're trying to make sure that the guy is legit, and not simply trying to avoid an Article 15.

First issue resolved, and it's only 1100, 2 hours into my shift.  Only 22 hours left to go.  Around 1900, we get a call from a hysterical mom back in the states.  Apparently, a few nights back, her son decided to get into a fight with a bouncer at a strip club.  The bouncer is a big, black guy, supposedly with arms as big as my legs, and the kid ended up in jail, and then the hospital.  Well, the mom went to call her son, but the cell phone was with the roommate, who told her what happened.  What a way to find out.  I forget what my SDNCO did, but he got her somewhat calmed down, and he later ended up receiving a Red Cross message from her.

By this time, I've knocked out the movie Mallrats, and a few games of Sudoku.  I'm contemplating sleeping, but I decide that laying down to watch a movie would be better.  Also, I decide that I want some snacks and a warm drink.  I head to the shoppette, to get some stuff, and my attempt to get some hot chocolate leads to a huge mess.  Let's just say that I pressed a button twice, and the machine serviced the cup three times.  This again happened when I tried to fill a second cup. 

I get back to Brigade, set up to watch Click (very good movie, especially for Sandler.  Also on the disk was a trailer for Will Smith's new movie, The Pursuit of Happiness, which looked very powerful).  So, I'm lying down watching the movie, when at around 0240, I get a call from the MP station.  They have a soldier that was brought down there, and blew a .187 BAC.  He was brought in by a battalion staff duty NCO, and the MP's didn't want to release him back to the battalion, because apparently, the NCO had laid hands on him (just grabbing someone can be defined as assault), and the MP was concerned.  Turns out that the battalion command had a policy out that no one on the rear detachment was allowed while the rest of the unit was training in Germany.  This soldier stated that he had "one glass of wine" (cough**bullshit**cough).  THe unit wanted him placed in a holding cell, but the MP's couldn't hold him, because he hadn't done anything illegal.  The disobeying of a lawful order was still not in their domain.  I decided to send my SDNCO to get the guy, and then hold him until the Read Detachment commander came in at 0600.

During the same initial phone call, the MP tells me that a soldier in the one of the companies in the other battalion (same battalion as the last time) has missed formation.  When I call over to the battalion, they haven't heard about it (probably hadn't gotten to them from the company).  Meanwhile, I'm waiting on that info, and the company departs, so now the soldier has missed movement.  In any case,there's nothing that I can do, so I tell the battalion to start the AWOL countdown from the time of the missed formation.

Somewhere near the climax of the movie Click, a soldier from one of the battalions walks in to staff duty.  Apparently, their van is missing a seat, and a previous day's staff duty had signed for the van.  Now he's asking where the seat it.  We have no idea, on top of the fact that my SDNCO is from the transportation section, and knows that there are some serious issues with the situation, such as the fact that staff duty should not have been able to pick up someone's vehicle in the first place.  So we start with the questions:

-How many seats do you have?  3.
-How many people are you taking? 4.
-Can't someone just sit on the floor or in a lap (realize that this is like an 8 hour drive, so that would be funnier)? No, I'm driving the Battalion Commander and the Sergeant major.
-(I say this specifically) Well, that shouldn't be a problem, should it?  They're pretty close.
-How long until you leave?  30 minutes.
-Did the idea of prepping BEFORE the last minute ever come into your minds?  They just told me to do this right now.
-You're fucked.

After that, things were pretty straight forward.  I got to finish Click, and get off duty at 0900 on Sunday.  Then, I went home and slept.

Black 6, out.

Ok, so this was going to be a post about my last trip to Liverpool, but I've decided to sidetrack it so I can talk about a CD that I received today.  Yes, it's the same CD that you see above in the "Now Listening" piece.  Joe Rogan is the funniest thing I can rememebr hearing in the longest time, and I've heard some funny comedians.  I mean, I have heard some very funny people, but Joe Rogan is that guy that I would warn people not to listen to while they are driving.

I know this because I made that mistake.  It was so funny that my eyes were tearing.  The road was becoming blurry, and I was seriously worried while driving on a road that I drive 4 times a day, at breakneck speeds.  While listening to this, I was going at granny speed, wondering if I should pull over or stop the CD.

Now to be honest, this CD isn't for everyone.  If jokes about sex, strip clubs, estrogen, men that need to break up with their girlfriend, Anna Nicole Smith, and the idea that you are lying to yourself if you consider doggy style apart of "making love", are not jokes that you would find funny, this may not be for you.  If extreme use of 4-letter words makes you squirm, than this is not for you.  I can't really go into what he says, but it is funny.

However, if you are ok with this, and if you are going to buy one CD today, buy this CD.

**Explicit quotes** 

Like girls say shit like, like, (Using a girl voice) "But I don't like to do that but, I hate giving blowjobs, but alright I'll do it with my hand, okay?"  (4 seconds of silence) "What would make you think that... YOU could possibly be as good at that as ME? I GOT 32 YEARS ON THE JOB!  THAT'S MY WORLD!  I'M IN THE TRENCHES EVERYDAY!!  Having a girl jerk you off is like trying to brush your teeth with your left hand.  It is the most frustrating, spastic, uncoordinated, experience in a man's life!

**End of explicit quotes**

Meanwhile, I recently acquired a new toy:

Black 6, out.

In the last post, I forgot to mention a cougar related discussion from the previous night.  We were in the first bar (Revolution) and there were some guys near us, trying to strike up a conversation with some younger women:

Me:  So, women are called cougars.  See, they get a cool name.  And what do they call a guy that goes after younger women?  "Dirty old men."  That's bull.
Dave:  I think they should be called jackals.
Me:  Jackals?
Dave:  Just look at it (motioning to the group of 4 guys).  They roll in packs.  Occasionally branch out to hunt alone.  Make that yipping and laughing sound within their group.  Jackals.

Also, it wasn't until just recently that the cougar that took him home had a 15 year old daughter.  That definitely would have made things awkward in the morning.

So Dave and I are looking for something to do on a Sunday night.  Unfortunately, it's only 6PM, and we have previously noted that things didn't really get good until 9 PM.  We walked to a couple of areas, but found two things.  Either it was empty, or heavily cougar populated.  Now, Dave was cougared-out from his previous night, so he was in flight mode whenever we got near places like this.  We would walk into a place, and I'm pretty sure we would then get looked at like prey.  We would quickly make an exit.  To top it all off, I walked past a bar that was full of cougars.  I was across the street.  As I walked past the window, I'm pretty sure that every cougar in the bar looked in my direction.  Scary.

Eventually, we settle on the bar where we had gone the first night to get some drinks.  Now, as we sat there, we noticed that it wasn't really happening.  However, if you knew what to look for, you know things were eventually going to kick off as 9 PM approached.  Meanwhile, we continue with the deep discussions:

Dave:  I've noticed that the British are really outspoken when they don't like things.
Me: What do you mean?
Dave:  Well, like they really hate Muslims.  I mean, I was reading the paper, and apparently the new Admiral of the Royal Navy is Muslim, and some people seem to really be against that.
Me: Yeah, but it's not like he's some Taliban f**k who was just put there.  I mean, he had to rise through the ranks and be selected to do that.
Dave:  Still, dude, Muslims here get treated like black people in the 50's, except black people didn't do anything to cause it.

Meanwhile, it was getting closer to 9, and nothing had really changed.  However, there were signs that told us that it would get better.  For instance, people had picked their positions.  Dave and I were standing at a table not far from the bar.  At another part of the room a team had chosen the couch area, the most comfortable seating in the place.  It was also near the base of the stairs (the bathroow was upstairs).  Another team was positioned near the entrance to what would become the dance floor.  All in all, there were probably 5 or 6 "teams" present, as far as I could see.  Around 8:50, one of the guys that worked at the place started moving tables from what served as the dance area each night.  9PM Sharp, things picked up. 

The first place was pretty uneventful.  We were being lazy that night, anyway, since we would be leaving in a few hours.  We walked across the street to a bar called Mood.  While Dave and I were talking, a girl came up and asked Dave for a light.  He lit her cigarette, stood there for a moment, and left.  You know when you stand there and expect something to be said, but instead, you sort of get ignored?  The poor girl basically had to slink away.

Me:  Dave!  What the hell?
Dave:  Do you think I'm the only guy in here with a lighter.  She pushed past 3 or 4 guys to get here.
Me: And...?
Dave:  I'm just burned out after last night.  I'm not going to even try tonight.

A while later, the girl would come by again and ask him to light another cigarette.  I decide to step in:

Me:  Wait a minute.  You've asked him for a light twice, and he doesn't even know your name.

She introduced herself and they chatted, but Dave basically let her slide away without resistance.  They I see this group of 5 extremely pretty girls.  They have pretty much not been approached by anyone in the bar.  Dave had noticed this, too.  I'm pretty good at group breaking, but this group had no way in.  First off, they had a pitcher filled with some drink.  This means that there are no instances where one or two will break away for the bar, thus allowing me to either talk to them, or talk to the group when they return and create that weird reentry situation.

Dave, although HE is not trying anything, makes a suggestion as to what he thinks I should do.  His plan was nuts.  I mean, it was sheer insanity.  I laughed at it, because it seemed so stupid.  I was even embarrassed at the idea of trying it.  And I pretty much refused.  He assured me that it was a great plan, but it took EXTREME confidence to pull off.

Dave:  Look, what have you got to lose.  It's our last night, and you will never see them again.
Me: True.
Dave:  Look, if this fails, we will leave this bar immediately, and I'll buy you 3 beers when we go to the next one.
Me:  Ok.  (All I can think about is the fact that I will be getting three beers.  I then turn and execute.)

I take my empty cup, walk over to the girl that is currently holding the pitcher, look her in the eye, smile, and say, "Fill me up." 

OMG, she is filling the cup!  Her friend sees this and goes, "Hey!" and she stops when the cup is half full.  Crap.  Time for me to improvise.  I look here right in the eye (she's smiling), and say, "It's not full."  AND SHE STARTS POURING AGAIN!!!  Back on track with the plan, I tell her that I owe her one, wink (I improvised that) and walk off.  The full execution of the plan would require me to wait a few minutes, and then bring her a drink (one of the girly ones that you know almost everyone drinks; the equivalent of Smirnoff).  However, when I went to the bar, I turned my back away from the bartender.  The bartender proceeded to pour the drink into a cup.  Apparently, at some point, they stopped giving people bottles.  Giving a girl a random drink in a cup just isn't cool, so I abort the plan, and Dave and I decide to go to another place.  As we were leaving, the girl that had kept asking Dave for a light walks over to him and says, "You're leaving?!"  Dave nods, and we leave. 

Two more bars, and some pretty generic stories later, and we caught a cab back to the hotel, slept for two hours, and took a cab to the airport.  After going through security, I decide to get breakfast, and Dave decides to find somewhere to sleep.  After breakfast, I find Dave, who is stretched out on some chairs that are out of the way.  Nearby, are two other people stretched out.  I decided that sleep would be a good idea, since our plane was delayed, and we have a few hours until boarding.  What I failed to notice was the piano.  Unfortunately, this would soon be brought to my attention.

Two small children, probably with the worst parents in the world (who were nowhere in sight), came over to the piano, and as far as my ears could decipher, began to torture it.  To simulate what I would here, take an 88 key piano.  Start from the far right, and hit every key three times, until you got to the middle.  Then reach all the way over to the right and slide your hand down every key until you got to the far left again.  Repeat.

If the world wasn't in such a state of high airport alert, I would have killed the children.  Actually, I'm surprised that they were not arrested as terrorists. 

After a few minutes, a gentleman came over and started talking to the children.  I thought he was going to tell the to stop, or offer them jobs at a secret CIA prison, but instead, HE started playing the piano.  Fortunately, he could play well, and was playing some relaxing music.  This was pretty nice.  However, for some reason, he decided to show the boy how to play "Chopsticks".  Then he left, and the children remained, and the torture continued.  By the time we had to go to our gate, I wanted to jam chopsticks in my brain.

Unfortunately, we returned to Italy, but we knew that we would need to return to Liverpool.  Guess what we're doing this weekend .

Black 6, out.

Before we go on, here is a quick video of what we were wearing the previous night:

 So after a few hours of napping, Dave gets up and decides that he is going to go out and explore.  I decide to sleep for 30 minutes, and then do the same.  I decided to go to the mall, and then to the Metropolitan Cathedral of Christ the King.  The signs to the place were not the easiest to follow, and it resided at the top of a long hill.  Fortunately, I don't have much to type, because I took video:

During my excursion, I also decided to go to McDonalds.  Dave and I would talk about it later:

Me:  I went to McDonalds for lunch.
Dave:  How was it?
Me:  It was awesome.  I bit into a Big Mac, and I think I could hear "America the Beautiful" playing.
Dave: Did fireworks go off, too.?
Me:  Oh yeah. And then some bald eagles flew by, and a Native American sat down next to me and shed a single tear.

Our plan for Sunday night was to stay out all night, and then go back to the hotel and grab our bags, which were already packed, since our plane took off at 5 in the morning.  So we went out to get some dinner, and I decided to interrogate Dave for the previous nights events.

Like I said in the last post, a cougar had latched onto Dave.  Apparently, he was a cougar magnet that night (explained later).  Anyway, aside from the fact that the "mother hen" of the bachelorette party didn't like that Dave had been grabbed up by one of the girls, and the fact that Dave and the cougar (I was going to type girl, but I'm sure that's misleading) essentially isolated themselves from the group, but still remained near the party.  Something that I forgot to mention is that in my initial break through, I was so well received that the girls gave me their real names, instead of the fake names that they were wearing on their name tags, such as "Horny Helen", etc, starting with the bride, whose name was Nikki.

Anyway, at some point, the cougar takes Dave back to her place:

Dave:  So she asks me "would you like some coffee?" and I say no.  She then proceeds to go get me coffee.
Me: Weird.
Dave:  Oh, I haven't even started.  So we start talking and at some point, she starts talking about her exhusband, and then about her failed marriage.  Next thing I know, she's sitting on her kitchen floor crying.
Me:  Wow.  So.... that did she bring you home for?
Dave:  I asked her that at some point.  All I could do was stand there.  I couldn't leave.  I didn't know where I was, and I'm sure it wouldn't have been good for a black man to be walking around some weird area at 2 in the morning.
Me:  Right.
Dave:  So I decided to sleep on the couch.  At some point, she tried to come up and lay next to me.  The couch wasn't that big, so I subtly pushed her off.
Me:  (laughs).  Ouch.
Dave:  As soon a the sun came up, I was out of there.  She had two kids, a 15-year old, and a 9-year old.  I decided that would be to awkward.  There was no one on the street at all.  Just me.  I probably walked for half an hour before I found a cab.  Then it cost me 20 Pounds (approx $40) to get back to the hotel.

Then he asked me about my story, and I told him how he sucked as a team player, and left too late in the night.  Later, we would talk about how he dressed:

Dave:  I think you were right about this jacket.  It might be a cougar magnet.  I mean, first there was the one in the red dress. 
Me:  I'm still pissed at you about that one.
Dave:  Then there was the one from the party. Also, at one point, the girl I was with went to the bathroom, and as soon as she was out of sight, I was surrounded by 3 other cougars, and one just grabbed me and started kissing me.
Me:  It's the way you dressed.  I told you.
Dave:  You might be right.  I think that jacket might be a cougar magnet.
Me:  Could be.
Dave:  I'm going to have to lock it in a trunk when I get home.
Me:  Yeah, but you know that when some cougar walks by your apartment, you're going to hear the box start shaking all of a sudden.
Dave:  Like in Jumanji.

 Black 6, out.

The other night, I went and watched Idiocracy.  I swear to you that I am dumber for having seen it.  I mean, it doesn't actually do any work to be a comedy.  No real jokes are told.  It just kind of does stuff.  I pretty much just relaxed my brain, and the whole thing became funnier.  Don't get me wrong, there are some funny quotes, But Clerks II is a much funnier movie.

Meanwhile, it's the end of the Fiscal Year, and I feel really happy.  Work should slow down greatly.  I haven't been to the gym in a month.  I still work out, but I just miss the gym. 

On another note, Dave and I will be making a return to Liverpool.  However, before that happens, I would like to finish off the stories of my last trip, so I may strip things down a bit, since it's been such a long time. 

Liverpool, Part 4:

After a relaxing nap, Dave and I decide to hit the town and test out some of the new clothing that we bought.  Dave had just purchased a brown jacket, somewhat like a sports jacket or something.  I had new shirts.  Once we're dressed, Dave asks for my opinion.

"It's good, but maybe a bit too good.  You look like something pulled out of the clothing advice section of Men's Health."

Dave DID NOT like my critique.  I think he gave me and F.  And a U.  Anyway, we head out, but it's a bit early (more on this later).  We head to a bar called Revolution, which is a Vodka bar, and relax for a bit.  At around 9, women start coming in in large numbers.  Apparently, that weekend was a good one to have a bachelorette party (they call it a hen party).    I don't know what happened, but to kill time we start talking to a group of guys next to us, who appear to be on some type of guys night out, which makes sense since half of them are married.

Anyway, at some point, Dave starts talking to this woman in a red dress that had come in with a group of girls.  Actually, I think she started talking to him.  Either way, Dave was doing some group breaking work.  The woman was a little older than us, probably in her 30's, but very well put together.  They're hitting it off, things are going well, and I'm wing-manning the rest of the group.  Then at some point the Guinness from earlier hits, so I excuse myself and decide to make a quick trip to the bathroom.  I'm gone for maybe a minute, when as I'm walking out, Dave is walking in:

me:  What the...
Dave:  I f**ked up.
me:  How?
Dave:  I don't know.  They were just going to another bar.
Me:  Did you ask where they were going.

I probably don't need to continue telling you the convo.  However, before we continue, you should become acquainted with the term "cougar".  Additional info.

We're back in the bar, decide that things are kind of dead, and head for new surroundings.  The next bar was ok, and right after we walked in, a different hen party walked in.  It's time for me to go to work.

Me: (turning to the group) So, who's the lucky girl?
Them: She is (pointing at the girl).
me: awesome.  (holds up hand for a high 5.  Receives high 5 from bride to be).

You may think it's cheesy, but when you're trying to meet people in this atmosphere, with the type of group that they're in, nonaggressive is the way to go.  Hugs and stuff would have been too creepy, in my opinion. 

I'm talking to one of them when Dave calls to me and says "Pat, this is all you."  He's pointing at a list that the girls have with them, which consists of things that the bride to be (BTB) needs to complete.  He's pointing at the one marked "Get one set of men's boxers."  Damn you Dave, I have a hunch that you're wearing boxers, also.  A short trip to the mens room and 2 minutes later, I am going commando.   Unfortunately, that night I had decided to wear my black Under Armour boxer briefs, which are the ones that I like the most.  Liked the most.  Who knows where they are now.

From within the group, Dave is again picked out by an older woman, this time in her late 30's.  For the remainder of the night, they would be inseparable.  Meanwhile, I would be having fun with the rest of the group (I deserve a wingman trophy).  HOURS later, Dave has disappeared, and about 45 minutes after he's gone, I decide to venture out on my own.  I'm not in the best of moods, because I had to wingman forever, and it's so late in the night that there's not much to do.  We're way past that point where normal people are establishing normal conversational bonds.  I found my was to the Heebie Jeebie (see previously), but it was very crowded, and the girl wasn't in sight. 

Essentially defeated, I decided to call it a night.  En route to finding a cab, I had plenty of entertainment.  I walked past a guy and girl who appeared to be breaking up and were in a yelling match.  It was made all the more entertaining by their accents.  10 minutes later, I would walk back by the same spot to find the guy basically crying on the shoulder of one of his buddies.  The things alcohol does to a person...  When I found a good spot to wait for a cab, I ended up talking with a girl who was not only drunk, but believed that "40 Year Old Virgin" was the funniest movie ever.  After going back and forth with quotes for a few minutes, I eventually hopped a cab, went back to my room, and passed out.

Around 1100 the next morning, Dave walked in. 

Me:  Well look who's back.  What happened?
Dave:  Man, I don't want to f**king talk about it. 

And with that, he climbed into his bed and fell asleep (Don't worry, you'll get the story later).  I also went back to sleep for a few hours.  Later that afternoon, we would both venture out on our own to see the city. 

Black 6, out.

Currently, I am taking care of my lifting partner's 15 year old son while he and the wife are having medical appointments in Germany.  Meanwhile, work is getting to me enough where I'm having weird dreams involving the budget.  I've been trying to make posts here, but instead, I get 14 hour days at work, and my buddy's house doesn't have internet access.  By the time I finish this liverpool story, it will be time to go to liverpool again.

And now, Liverpool, part 3.  As you saw by the last entry's video, we were in a cab heading into town.  Specifically, we were going to get some Chinese Buffet, because we were really hungry.  Personally, I am always disturbed by the idea of going to one country, only to eat food from somewhere else.  It's like going to France, and having McDonald's, or getting Chinese food in Italy.  That, and the fact that Chinese food in italy sucks.

We found a buffet that was all you can eat, however you had to pay for the drinks.  I didn't find this out until AFTER I had gulped down my first soda in order to relieve the extreme thirst that I was feeling.  Oh well.  The food was really good, though, and I had three plates of various items.

From there, it was time to go and walk around the shopping area.  The mall that we went into was rather uneventful.  As we neared the stair however, this woman who had a booth set up for some bank or credit card company, comes up behind Dave asking him if he would like to sign up.  However, when she did this, she came from behind, and was literally inches away from his face, so when he turned around, he was startled enough to jump back a good foot.  Even funnier was the confused look when the response from him came back in our american "accent".  As we walked away, you could tell she was trying to work out why we were there, just walking through a mall and not looking like tourists.

Eventually, we find a Gap, which is a welcomed store after living in Italy.   The problem with Italian clothing, when it comes to men's clothing, is that they always screw it up somehow.  Take a perfectly good shirt, and then give it a pink stripe or something, put a flower on it, or just make it too tight, and the sleeves too short.  This is Italy.  While in the gap, I think back to a recent attempt to get dressed and realized two problems with my wardrobe.  First, I have too much stuff that is blue.  Second, I have too many shirts that are a dark color of blue or black.  I decide that an introduction of a few shades of brown would help round things out.

While I'm doing this I notice that one of the girls who worked there was eyeing me as she walked by a couple of times. I was being lazy after the previous nights fiasco, so I just shopped, trying to buy myself a new jacket.  Dave noticed the girl noticing me, and tried to get me to work, but I stayed lazy.  I tried to decide between a brown jacket and a black jacket, but at the time, I wasn't feeling either, so I paid for what I had and we left.  We went to another clothing store, and although I only found one shirt that I liked, I did find a really pimping hat.  I've never had a really pimping hat, and I was initially against it, but with the advice of my wingman, I made the buy.

Unfortunately, the second store didn't have any jackets that I wanted, and I decided that I would get the one from the Gap.  The added bonus here was that I would also hit on the girl working there.  I walk in, and start trying on the two jackets again.

Her: Can I help you.
Me:  I'm trying to decide which one of these I should get.
Her:  Well, they both look really good on you
(Dave was nowhere nearby when this started, but has materialized out of nowhere)
Dave:  Yeah, but which one do YOU like better.
Her: (giggles) The brown one.
(I liked the brown one better, anyway, so I'm happy that she chose that one)
Me:  The brown one it is. 

I get this and a shirt, and decide to chat her up.

Me: Are you from around this area?
Her: Yeah, where are you guys from?
Me:  I'm from New York, and my buddy is from Virginia.
(At some point during the conversation, I did ask here what her name was, and I remembered it for that day, but I forget it now.)
For teh sake of speed, I'll just say that the conversation was standard for me, and she told me about a place called Heebee Geebee that she might be going to after a party.  I tell her I might try to swing by.

When we go up to the register.  The girl decides to help check us out (no pun intended).  Dave goes in front of me, and the girl seems to have lost all train of thought here.  She tries to fold teh shirt that dave bought, but screws up on buttoning it.  She misaligned the first button at the bottom, and didn't notice until she got to the top.  She then announces this to us, in that "talking to yourself, but you say it aloud as though everyone will feel your pain" method.  When we leave, she tries to tell us goodby, but instead her words come out, "Well, I'll see you soon, well I guess later, um, yeah, I'll see you later."

Dave and I contain ourselves and walk out noting that we should probably make an attempt to find Heebee Jeebee's later.  We head back to the hotel for pre-outing naps.

Black 6, out.

Before I resume the Liverpool story (which has a video), I wanted to give a quick realtime update.  This morning I had an APFT.  The first event is pushups for 2 minutes.  I need 73 pushups for 100 points in the event, and normally I will knock out the first 65 in the first minute.  About 2 months ago, I got the crazy idea in my head that I wanted to be able to do pushups from a handstand.  Since then, I have only done pushups with my feet elevated, usually a foot off the ground, performing a set of 60 each night.  Today, I got down for the event and started pushing, waiting for the time keeper to call out the 1 minute mark, so I know where I stand.  Somewhere around 65, he hasn't said anything, so I assume that he won't call out until 30 seconds.  As I knock out pushup #80, he yells "one minute".  I decide that I'm done, and get up.

When we last left our heroes, they were at Concert Square, getting ready to enter a bar.  They have just entered the bar. 

There's a group of three girls a few feet from us,dancing in a circle.  I notice it because one of them is wearing white pants and has no rhythm.  It was like a strobe light of sorts.  I've gotten a glass of Guiness Extra Cold, so it's something that I'm not inclined to drink quickly.  Right now, it's pretty much time do take a piece of my favorite advice: "Observe your world".  I use this idea in everything, but it's an abstract idea, anyway.  At some point during the night I went to the second floor, and while looking around, I caught some girl eyeing me.  I decided to let it slide. 

I went back downstairs, where the group of three girls had been.  Apparently, Dave went to talk to them.  One of them was a lawyer, of Iraqi decent, and as opposed to the war.  Dave decided to blow her off.  I chastised him heavily.  I mean, I'm okay with being against the war, and it's great that she had an opinion.  It's not like she was some fanatic with not real view of the world who was getting in his face.  She was an intelligent woman with an opinion.  Damn it Dave.

Anyway, within the next 30 minutes, I go upstairs again to use the bathroom.  I come out and the girl that was eyeing me earlier is walking with her friend toward the bathroom area.  Her friend goes to the bathroom, so I decide to say hi, as long as we have chance eye contact, and she's literally RIGHT THERE in front of me.

Me: Hi.
Her: Hi.
Me: Are you from around here?
Her: Yeah.  Where are you from?
Me: New York.
Her: Wow, yeah.  I love New York.  (giving me two thumbs up)
Me: Oh, I'm Pat, by the way. (I like to star the convo, and get it going before I actually give out my name)
Her: I'm Sam, good to meet you.

I decide to buy her a drink, and during our conversation, I came to learn that she "loved" a lot of things, like the US, Italy, and most of what I said due to my accent.  I also came to learn that she was quite drunk.  Generally, however, she was quite nice.  Her friend came back, and they were going downstairs, so I guess it was time to collect my wing man.

I go back downstairs and walk over to Dave,  "That one there is drunk."
Dave: Which one?
Me: That one (Making a subtle gesture for him to turn around).

As he turns around, she turns the bottle of whatever she is drinking, vertical, and we both watch as the thing goes from almost full to empty in seconds.  Dave turns and laughs (either at me or her).  We walk over, and I introduce Dave, and try to get conversation moving within the group, so that he can chat up the boring friend, and I can go dance.  However, I turn for a second, and next thing I know, Dave in on the dance floor, and I'm stuck with the friend, who was quite boring.  I mean, she was cute, but it was as if she didn't want to be out, at all.  During a later convo, Dave stated that he must have gotten a wrong signal, because apparently he would have preferred to be with the boring friend.

I want to choke Dave.  Some conversations later we decided to check out the club called Mood, which Natalie and Christine recommended, and is right down the block.  We exit the bar and as we walk guess who we run into.  It's Natalie and Christine.  (The next day, Dave would argue that there was no coincidence in this, and that they were stalking us).  We head in and dance and talk for quite a while.  Nothing really noteworthy.  However, it was LOUD.  I mean ears ringing loud.  I looked up, and I'm literally dancing in front of a ceiling mounted speaker.  Reminds me of Spring Break 2003.  Now, some of you would say that ears ringing means that I am damaging my ears, but on my last hearing test, I was able to hear a couple of levels outside of the normal human spectrum, so I think I can afford to lose some.

After a while Christine suggests that we go to a club called the Funky Box.  Apparently her boyfriend was there.  WTF.  After a bit of a walk there, we arrive outside of the Funky box.  However, I'm apparently not dressed "funky" enough, since I'm not wearing sneakers (or "trainers" as they are called here).  I can think of no other club that encourages sneakers.  Ever.  Anyway, at some point in the conversation he asks me where I'm from, and when told that I'm from America, he asks, "Shouldn't you be in Iraq somewhere?"

Snobby british cunt.  At that point, I was ready to put his head through a wall.  I've already taken into account that he and the others are wearing gloves, and it's not a cold night, which probably meant that they were loaded.  I could still take them.  I think he got a bit overconfident because I was wearing a jacket, and was wearing my glasses.  I didn't hear anything when my jacket came off.  Meanwhile, one of the girls seems to notice that he's pushed the right button, and decides to intervene.  She basically just asked him to let me in, and he agreed.

Punk.

Let me also state that I hadn't had a drink in almost 2 hours.  That is the point where I am most dangerous: the reentrance and the early stages of sobriety.  Normally, I sleep through that phase.  I'm also the type of person who can remember EVERYTHING and hold good conversation, even though I've been drinking.  It's my physical coordination that goes a little off, but it returns quickly with sobriety.

Once inside, I ask the bartender if she can put my coat behind the bar.  Christine's bf swings by again, and then disappears into the club again.  The girls are doing whatever.  The club wasn't that good, and Dave and I figured that it was time to call it a night.  I go to the bar and grab my jacket, and when I turn around, both girls are standing there with a surprised look on their faces.  "You're leaving?"

"Yup, we're out."  I think Natalie told me to email her, but I forget. 

The next day, we wake up around noon, and decide to hit the commercial area.  I break out the video camera for a bit.  However, it seems that Dave was bent on ruining each piece of the video.  In the end of the first three pieces, he does something to screw up an otherwise good video.

When Dave talked about his cigarettes, apparently, one of the girls was holding on to it.  Not only did she smoke a bunch, but she still had the pack when we left.

To be continued...

Black 6, out

"It's just like home, but a little off."
-Dave

This post was getting so long, that I have decided to brake it down into a miniseries.

This weekend a buddy (Dave) and I hopped a plane to Liverpool. How did this idea originate? We have to go all the way back to last week, when I was at a party:

Dave: Hey, Pat. Want to go to Liverpool next week?
Me: Is that the four day weekend?
Dave: Yes.
Me: Ok.

People, this is planning at it's greatest. The next morning, while fighting a hangover that only red wine can give me, I purchased my tickets on Ryan Air, which is the cheap way to travel around Europe. Things were busy at work, so neither of us did any research until Thursday afternoon, and most of what turned up was museum related. Fortunately, I was able to find a list of bars in the area, and finding bars in England is like finding sand at the beach.

Friday morning, I was up as early as I would be on a work day, which was not something that I was overjoyed about. However, the rest of the morning went very well. The drive to the airport was without incident, parking was convenient and cheap, and we arrived before most of the other people. Airport security still baffles me, though. Due to our need to defeat the terrorists, people are not allowed to carry liquid through airport security, which meant that I had to quickly chug my Star Bucks drink before standing in line. Don't confuse this with not being able to carry liquids onto the airplane, since once I passed security, there was an abundance of shops willing to sell me overpriced drinks. I did not partake, however, and was literally thirsty for freedom.

The flight was also pretty uneventful. When they began serving drinks, I requested a Pepsi, and they brought me the tiniest can I had ever seen. Smaller than a computer mouse. Hell, it was smaller than the cup that they gave me to pour it in. The airline was also having a raffle, so buying stuff got you a ticket, and one passenger would win a free return trip ticket. When they announced the winner, I missed it by one. Oh well.

Once on ground, we began dealing with all the stuff that we had not figured out previously, like where we would be staying. We walked over to a stand for Last Minute.com to make some reservations. There was someone already there, so we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

I have this bad luck where if I have to do something simple, or have a very quick issue, the person in front of me ALWAYS has the most complicated issue imaginable. It usually involves the aligning of all the planets and sacrificing a chicken. The people in front of us probably needed a chicken at the last minute. At some point, it was out turn, and the girl found us a place for Friday night, and sunday night, but that hotel was completely booked on Saturday night. She asked if we wanted to book at another place. I asked if we would be able to cancel a place if we booked it, should we find a cheaper place. She said no, and so I said no, knowing that there is no way that everything would be booked. She also stated that he hotel was a 5 minute walk from one of the bigger hot spots, Concert Square.

We took the bus into town, thinking that it was one of those that went to specific places and stopped, pushing groups off so they can walk to their hotels from nice, centrally located points. You know where this is going. At some point, Dave realizes that we are not near the dock, that we are moving away from the docks, and that the bus has yet to stop once. He also realized that right above eye level were buttons that you push to request a stop. Jumping off when the bus came to a halt, we were actually near the square, and started walking toward our hotel, which should only be a 5 minute walk.

Announcement: Last Minute.com employs lying whores!!!

We must have walked for 15 or 20 minutes, pulling our luggage. I think we cursed her the entire time. I mean, if we had walked through construction areas, MAYBE it would have been 8 minutes. Also, we were walking like normal people instead of Army guys on a road march, and the girl that gave us our info wasn't someone that I would define as "in shape", so the amount of time it would take her should have been longer that what it would take us.

Eventually, we arrive at our hotel. While we were waiting for our room to be ready, I decided to strike up a conversation with the girl at the front desk.

Me: So, you're all full up for tomorrow night, right?
Her: Let me check...... Nope, there's a triple open.

Announcement: Last Minute.com employs lying whores!!!

Ahem.

We go to our room, I claim my bed, since I was first in the room, and Dave decides that he's going to take a nap. I'm not a big nap person, mostly because I never get them, but I decide to try the "nap before going out" strategy. It's a good strategy, and I will be using it before almost every outing from now on.

I wake up 4 hours later, and we get ready to go out on the town. Showered, dressed, and ready to go, we walk toward where the bars are, and find one that I can't remember the name of. We grab a bit to eat there, and when I'm done, I decide that it's time to get some info, preferably by hitting on the locals.

There are two girls behind me, chatting away, so I turn around and use an age old technique:

Me: Are you two from around here?
Girl 1: Yes.
Me: My friend and I just got in this morning, and aren't sure of where all the good places are

People, this method is golden. Hell, I use it when I go back home. I just say that I haven't been there in a long time.

Needless to say, Christine and Natalie were quite useful for information, and told us about Concert Square, which is where many of the bars are, and about a bar called Mood. At some point, Christine's boyfriend walks into the bar, and comes over to say hi. Ugh. Then, he mysteriously disappears. Either way, Dave and I decide that it's time to go, and they say that they'll see us later.

We take a taxi to the square and head into a bar that I can't remember the name of (which is bad, because I was there a couple of times) and begin the night.

Black 6, out.

This is a very corny story, and there are pictures, but you will have to read the whole thing to understand.

The last two days focused on Airborne jumps.  Monday I was assigned to be the Drop Zone Officer In Charge (DZOIC).  There's really not much to the job. I got to miss a day of work, read a ton of magazines while waiting for the jump to happen, and all I had to do was tell the Italians to close the road.  Didn't seem that bad at all.

Skipping through most of the day, the time on target (TOT) for the jumpers was 1700 and 1930.  Around 1705, 2 C-130 Hercules (Radio Call sign "Herkey"), flew overhead... and dropped no one.  THen they approached from another direction.... and dropped no one.   This repeated 4 more times, and then they flew back to the airfield.  Meanwhile, I got a bunch of video of airplanes flying... and nothing else. 

Turns out that there were a number of things wrong.  First off, the ceiling was too low, meaning the clouds were too low.  For training, the minimum height that you can drop from is 800 ft, and you must have a 200 ft clearance from there to the ceiling.  Second, the runway lights were acting up on the airfield, which would prevent the plane rom landing later, which is why they went back.  Later on, there would be issues with the visibility around the mountains near the DZ, and then there was a storm at the airfield, which would prevent a landing, so the plane didn't take off.  This whole jump was scratched.  While I was waiting for this to be canceled, I enjoyed a Nintendo DS I had recently purchased (VERY Addictive).  I rode back with the medics (I rode there with them), and they were telling stories.  At one point, one of them talked about a guy that, upon landing from his jump, got his canteen shoved up his rear, and had to be helicoptered out.  Seemed funny at the time.  I arrived home just before 0100, so it was late call for me in the morning.

Today, was my turn to jump.  At least it was at first.  With the previous day's jumps being scratched, there were people that HAD TO jump, otherwise they would lose pay.  Because I had jumped the previous month, I was good for another two months.  I decided to show up anyway, and there just happened to be an opening.  Damn. 

Throughout the day, I hoped that hole would close.  I like getting an extra $150 a month and such, but if I don't have to do it, why risk it.  There's no real incentive to jump right now, anyway.  I went through sustained airborne training, managed to not do the Parachute Landing Fall (PLF) training, and later we took the 2 hour trip up to the airfield.

Jump ahead a few hours, and I'm rigged up and on the plane.  I am also jumping out of the left door, which is my favorite door, because the two times that I jumped right door, I had a hard landing, or (in the case of last month) had an opening shock that knocked my balls up to my throat.  This time, I made EXTRA sure that the leg straps were tight.  I was also the second person out the door, something I like because I get out early (normally near the pickup point), I'm away form everyone, and I am not the first guy.  Some private who was having his "cherry jump" (the 6th jump aka the first one after airborne school) just happened to be in the right place.  That sucker has to stare out the door for almost 2 minutes before he gets to go.

We're on the plane for at least 50 minutes before takeoff.  I look around, and you can always tell the people who are nervous.  They fidget with their gear, tighten their helmet, and make repeated small check.  I went to sleep.  40 minutes later, I'm hooked up and going out the door.  I see the cherry in front of me spinning like crazy (he should have kept a tight body position), my chute opens, and I see the buses.  I reach up and pull a slip toward them, but I keep heading in the opposite direction.  I climb halfway up my risers trying to change directions, to no avail.  I pass over the medics, and the DZ marker, and I'm still moving in the opposite direction, so I decide to look behind me and see where I'm going to land.

Before a jump, we go over a number of scenarios, such as landing in the trees, landing in power lines, and landing in water.  What we didn't train for is landing in a corn field.  Remember the canteen story?  I really didn't want a butt full of corn, ESPECIALLY if it's going in the wrong direction.  Now I'm in "Oh shit" mode.  I'm still trying to slip away.  I have no idea how hard corn plants are (or what they are called), but my supermarket experience tells me that they are right up there with police batons.

I'm too close to the ground when I finally give up, and I try to open my chest buckle to slow me down.  I can barely grab it, but get it open, and I reach up and grab two sets of risers (later I realize that it was the correct two, but you never really get told "if the corn field is approaching from your rear, reach up and grab...") and land.  It was actually not too bad.  Either that, or the adrenaline was really pumping.  Here are some pics of the damage, which I took with my phone:

 
This is the field around me.

  
This is the path that I cleared while landing.

 
This is my chute tangled in everything.

 
And this is me with the ears of corn that I stole, since the plants were ruined.

Black 6, out.