Highway to Heck

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I was supposed to have finished college in the spring of '86. But in the fall of my junior year I had (in order to finish up all of my required course work) taken five classes, three computer science, one meteorology, and one history. That was the semester I "hit for the cycle." One A, one B, one C, one D, and (of course) one F.

I was pissed more because of the B, which was in history, than the other grades. I mean it was the only freaking B I ever got in history. The A was in meteorology, which was sort of an introductory class. Learned I lot I did. When the professor said that all we really needed to do was "show up," he wasn't really kidding.

The C, the D, and the F were in my computer science studies. Which explains why I didn't graduate with my classmates. No big deal, as I mentioned the other day, the Air Force would bend over backwards to get you that degree. Provided you hadn't made a complete dog's breakfast of things.

Which I had not. Not quite anyway.

Now two of the courses I needed to actually graduate weren't offered in the summer. My Air Force advisor, a decent chap at Wright-Patterson AFB, said, "Not to worry, take them in the fall. Hey, if you also want to get a minor in history, you can knock out two of those courses this summer and take the last one you need in the fall."

So I did just that.

Now after all the trials and tribulations it was graduation day, a cold December day in Fort Collins it was. I had purchased a video camera earlier in the year so The Missus Herself volunteered to tape the ceremony. Bear in mind, back then video cameras were either VHS or, getting rare by then, Betamax format. We had a VHS camera, damned thing must have weighed 20 pounds. And here was the love of my life volunteering to lug it around for the ceremony.

My graduation ceremony, in a word, sucked. Sucked bad it did. All of the PhD and Masters candidates got to hear their names called and go up on stage to collect their actual diplomas. When their moment of glory had passed, they announced that all of us lowly undergrads could grab a diploma case from the strategically located boxes along the walls, thank you for playing, and if you actually graduated you'd get your diploma in a couple of weeks. Now sit and be quiet for the guest speaker.

Was I pissed? You betcha.

But gamely I waved to my wife, who was taping the proceedings, and settled in for our guest speaker. This gentleman was the actual, I shit-you-not, President of The Gambia.

Uh, what's "The Gambia" you might wonder?

Yup, that appendix looking shape, surrounded on three sides by Senegal, is The Gambia.
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Now I didn't know much about the President at the time, one Sir Dawda Jawara, other than his English was heavily accented and coupled with the execrable sound system made him nearly unintelligible. And, like most politicians, he didn't know quite when to shut up.

When we got home, we wanted to show the kids "Dad's graduation ceremony." Which was apparently all static with some monotonous droning noise in the background. Seems the camera was very touchy and had to be at just the right temperature and once the tape is in, record a little, check the picture, then don't touch anything after that.

At any rate, college was over (and yes, my actual diploma had come in the mail) and it was time to start thinking about Officer Training School. Three months down at the Medina Annex to Lackland AFB, Texas. Remember the other day when I mentioned that I had spent the first eight months of my married life on Okinawa, while the love of my life lived in Korea?

Yeah, that sucked.

So I wasn't all that thrilled to be heading off and leaving the matriarch and the three bairns at home. I knew that I would miss them terribly. Been there, did that for a month when I went to NCO Leadership School in Japan, at Yokota Air Base. When I had left, The Naviguesser hadn't started sitting or crawling or any of that stuff. When I returned I didn't even recognize him! He was sitting up and starting to get mobile.

And I missed that. Oh well, in the interests of the mission, getting a commission, I figured I could handle it. Although I had asked around about OTS, all I got was the official USAF propaganda, seems no one I knew had ever been there. All of the officers at the ROTC detachment were ROTC or Academy, they had no idea.

So one clear day in January, I hit the road. I should have known that something was amiss when I realized that I had to report in on the day before the Super Bowl. Our actual training would not commence until Tuesday. As our very own Denver Broncos, with John Elway under center, were headed to the Super Bowl that year, I assumed that we would all bond while watching the Super Bowl together.

Right? I mean only communists would ignore The Big Game, right?

Well, communists and the training staff at OTS.

I had no idea, as I rolled down I-25 for the drive to San Antonio, that I was on the Highway to Heck.

Author's notes:

1) I originally was going to call this post "Highway to Hell," with appropriate musical accompaniment, but as bad as Medina sucked (and OMG it sucked bad), it wasn't Hell. Not even close. Also, I don't particularly care for that song, though it has a catchy tune and I do like most of AC/DC's stuff. Just not that one. I'm not one to tempt the Fates, dontcha know?

2) If I had finished the whole story today, it would disappoint poor Beans. He so loves giving me crap about the whole episodic, cliff-hangar aspect of this tale. Who am I to deny him this marvelous opportunity to complain? ;)

3) I mentioned the eyes the other day. Eye exam on Friday, dilation and poking and prodding of the ocular sensors left me in something of a blurry mess through most of Saturday. Seems that the pressure in my left eye was hovering around 41. About 21 points higher than is healthy. Glaucoma? I don't know, I didn't ask. Eye drops were prescribed.

4) Follow up visit on Monday, pressure was down to 19. Well within acceptable parameters. (Right eye had no issues either day.) I have to see a specialist in September, also a follow up to my eye doctor in the same month. After a regimen of eye drops thrice a day until then. Probably for the rest of my life in all likelihood. But hey, I'm starting to nail the target on the first pass, both eyes, ninety percent of the time.

Yay, me.

And "eye drops for life" sure beats the alternative.

In any event, I shall keep all y'all posted.

Stay tuned...