Shoup Airlines

Death knocks at my door…again

When you last left Shoup he was getting pinned as a WOC and wondering if this really meant anything. A week later and I still don’t really know, but again, I digress.

There were several people in the little “ceremony” room and after all the hubbub and flashbulbs ebbed, we were ushered off to the side and I finally got a chance to take in all who were there. Of course the majority were people either just having boarded us or the few that helped us with our packets in getting to this point. But there was one odd duck I couldn’t quite place. He looked familiar, had an even more familiar Cheshire grin when he realized I was studying him, but I couldn’t figure the Major. Then it hit me like a five ton truck flying down El Cajon pass with its brakes out, the road covered in ice and the tires covered in animal lard (for good measure). It was Captain Major Sniper, everyone’s favorite killer come to chat with his protege!

I thought that whole ordeal had blown over after nothing came of my rifle qualifications in Basic. I was dead wrong. Everyone started making for the hand shake line and he waited til last so he could have a little talk with me. The man actually knew all about my scores in Basic, AIT and all the stuff I’ve been going through for flight school. Jokingly, I asked if he had anything to do with the flight school date yank. He had the audacity to chuckle nervously. NERVOUSLY! Then said no and parried with “there’s still time to switch to 11B (infantry), Shoup,” in that tsk-tsk voice your parents used to give you when lecturing on a poor decision.

“No thanks, I’d prefer to keep my morbidity in the clouds.”

After that “chance” encounter it was back to the airport to sit and wait until my flight to L.A., 7 hours later. But going through security was the interesting part. I know the TSA has never been one for consistency but the last several times (all very recent) that I’ve gone through the exact same checkpoints between Sacramento and L.A., never once have they asked me to remove my clear plastic bag of liquids for separate scanning. So it came as a bit of a surprise when the screener snarled at me after my bag had passed through and I hadn’t removed the offending bag. I apologized, removed it and sent the bag back through the screener. This did not please the screener one iota. She called the guy over and wanted him to hand check my bag. Upon searching my bag he found one can of body spray and this is what transpired…

“Ooh, hey, I haven’t used this scent yet. It any good?”

“Umm, sure I guess. I haven’t had any complaints.”

“Well okay, this is an aerosol, we consider that a liquid and we just raised the limit to 3.4 ounces. Unfortunately, this one is 3.5 fluid ounces, you can either put it in your checked baggage, mail it home or have it confiscated. What’s it gonna be?”

Thinking how one tenth of an ounce is going to sway the odds in my favor of taking over the plane, I debate whether to say something stupid or not. Now what actually restrains me from saying anything? Not the fact that any disparaging or suspicious comments can have me detained, jailed and whatever else the TSA feels. No, it’s the fact that I’m still in my Class A’s and afraid this might jeopardize a class date!

“The fact that my bag will be gate checked probably doesn’t change anything, huh?” (I’m flying on a CRJ)

“Nope.”

“Okay, confiscate it then.”

“Okay, and thank you for your service.”

He quickly turns and instead of tossing the spray into the trash can where all of the other confiscated items are being tossed, he surreptitiously slips the can into his pocket.

Rolling my eyes and turning toward the gate I realize there’s a CRJ already at the gate. And they’re conducting the final boarding. But for what? The next L.A. flight doesn’t leave until 8pm. I check the screen as I walk toward the gate and sure enough nothing is supposed to be departing right now or anywhere remotely near now in the past or the future. Of course the flight is headed for L.A. and there just happens to be one seat left. I quickly scan for Rod Serling and then get on thinking this is definitely worth the price of a can of body spray. Three point FIVE ounces of body spray!

It isn’t until somewhere over San Luis Obispo that I realize I’ll be getting home right in the middle of L.A.’s world famous traffic all the freakin’ way home as Mr. Serling hands me my bag of peanuts. And there’s the rub!

WOC

No, this isn’t a tribute to Fozzie. Besides, I was partial to Rowlf. I think that’s a new record for digression.

Anyway, as previously mentioned, I had to visit the state capital on Wednesday. That was the easy part. Getting there and getting out were the interesting episodes of this trip.

In the military, you don’t travel anywhere or do anything substantial without orders. It’s an actual piece of paper that has a bunch of military coding that no one can decipher along with a bunch of legal jargon that allows you to do whatever you’ve been ordered to do. Without this piece of paper you don’t get paid, reimbursed for your expenses, or really know what, when or how you’re supposed to execute your orders. After spending the rest of last week and this Monday chasing down the proper person to cut my orders I was asked why I was waiting until the last minute to request my orders. “Um, because I know this stuff moves like a quadriplegic snail in molasses and I didn’t want to stir up a commotion?” I got my orders today. Now I only hope the travel reimbursement gods will accept all my receipts with retroactive orders.

In my Class A’s and at the Adjutant General’s office, I’m still wondering why exactly I’m here. The Lieutenant running the security desk is wondering why I’m an hour early. Oh, that’s right, I don’t have my orders. Of course the only thought running through my head is that now I have time to do the day’s USA Today crossword puzzle. Unfortunately, this takes five minutes as I realize the USA Today crosswords have now been reduced to a kindergarten exercise of fill in the blank thanks to my mother’s loving torturous gift of New York Times crosswords that I left at home. Stupid idiot.

After forty five minutes of forcing myself to actually read the USA Today, another victim shows up and I finally discover what exactly is going on today. Each of us is having a board with the state’s top brass to become a Warrant Officer. Isn’t that exactly what happened last time you went up there? I know! I wondered the same thing. No, turns out that was strictly for Army Aviation, this one is strictly for Warrant Officers. They weren’t kidding about top brass either. I was interviewed by THE COMMAND CHIEF Warrant Officer of California, his XO (Executive Officer) and the Adjutant General’s XO. In simpler terms, these are the three highest people in the food chain of California’s Guard unit below the Adjutant General and Ah-nold himself. Of course, I didn’t realize this until later.

From there, we had a little impromptu pinning ceremony and were kind of sworn in as WOCs. There were right hands raised but no repeating of anything said. That comes later with the real commissioning. I really know how to pick the ranks though don’t I? First came Specialist, which no one could ever really define well. Now, I’m a Warrant Officer Candidate which is an in limbo rank that again no one knows what to do with or how to treat. Lastly, I won’t even touch what happens once I actually become a Warrant Officer.

But wait! There’s more. That was only the first part of the day. Tune back in on Monday and find out just who showed up at the pinning ceremony. Hint: It’s someone from Shoup’s past. You’ll also get the hilarious hyjinx that ensued at the airport. And will he make it back home in time to beat the LA traffic? Same Shoup time. Same Shoup drivel.

Dear Hollywood,

Now that you have completely eviscerated the catalogue of television shows from the 70′s and 80′s, you feel it’s a good idea to begin dismantling the favorite books of many a childhood generation?

At first, I thought the rumblings of this Ben Stiller and Tom Cruise match-up were just that, rumblings to repair an irreparable image of a certain Scientologist. Now I read that The Hardy Men will most likely come to fruition. I think it would be funnier for Stiller to dust off his old Cruise impression and play both parts. The impression was horrible but that is what would make it viewable. Instead we’ll probably get a small scene steal of Stiller’s Cruise. Regardless, this screams disaster of epic proportions in only the way that you, Hollywood, can obliterate something.

Then I stumbled on to a movie that’s already in the can, Nancy Drew. I watched the trailer hoping against all hope that this may be something created by one of those “fringe” directors that can actually produce an idea or two without turning to something that’s already been done ten times. You even have a volume of books to start from! No such luck. I think I saw every 90′s coming of age, fitting in, out-of-towner, nerdish, younger wise cracker, fashionista high school cookie cut stereotype and story plot in that two minute blurb. Even John Hughes has to be ripping his hair out. The last straw would have been to put the trailer to music like “Kids in America…”

This is where I want you to pay close attention, Hollywood. I’m really indifferent to you trashing The Hardys or Nancy, I was never a fan of either. But if you even make the slightest of motions towards Encyclopedia Brown…well let me put it in words you’d understand. Not only will I pay a visit but Shafty and M.D. will come over as well and create our own little scene that will make Good Fellas look like Bambi!

Sincerely,

Shoup