Shoup Airlines

I’m gettin’ too old…

This weekend was another Guard weekend, and to make it extra special we had to take our annual APFT (Army Physical Fitness Test). I don’t think I ever went into this during Basic and AIT, but it seemed like every time I turned around we were taking another PT test. When all was said and done we took four tests in Basic and another four in AIT.

The test isn’t difficult, you just feel ragged at the end if it. There are three events: push ups, sit ups and a 2 mile run. You have two minutes to max out the repetitions in the first two events and then of course you just run as fast as you can for 2 miles. Each event has a max score of 100 and it’s weighted by age. On a side note, I’ve always found it odd that my age range, 27 to 31, has the highest repetitions and shortest time to max out the test.

To make a long story epically longer, I slacked off after getting out of training back in July so I wasn’t quite the same physical specimen. I was most worried about the run and how much time I would add since my best of 13:24 back in AIT. Apparently, the worrying worked because I only added 20 seconds and that ain’t too shabby for carrying an additional 15 pounds!

The down side? My calves have filed for divorce, citing irreconcilable differences. They each feel like a rubber band stretched as far as possible with a nail dragging itself lengthwise across the band with each step I take. I look like Frankenstein’s monster every time I get up and try to walk until my calves relent enough for me to at least look like a low grade looney walking down the hall. And wincing through my head with each step, “and you’re going to run a marathon in February?”

I went for a 5 mile run today and stretched the calves back out. They’re a bit tight still, but better I think. It always amazes me how any aches and pains I have at the start of a run go away within the first quarter mile. I guess tomorrow morning’s crawl out of bed will be the presiding judge in this corporeal suit.

16 hours later…

So, as expected, yesterday turned into a very LONG day. After waiting for that certain person to sign the final paperwork at 1300, the mad dash was on to get changed and catch a cab at 1400.

Arrive at the airport around 1500 and wait for a 1730 flight. Eat a little and reminisce about the bygone days of passing through Norfolk airport while working for the airlines. Then a smirk appears as I realize I’m wearing yet another set of wings as I walk past the gates. I guess some things will never change.

The smirk evolves into a grimace as I notice we’re delayed until 1800. Time to pull out the phone and pass time. The time gets pushed to 1930, then 1950, then back down to 1940. I feel like I’m watching the Dow index.

I realize I’m going to miss my connection into Orange County, which is also the last flight there for the day. I ask the gate agent about changing flights to the last LAX flight out of Chicago, but he won’t do it because it’s full. I’m glad to see my luck hasn’t left me in these six months of exile.

We takeoff around 2000 and I completely zonk out. I’m talking so deep a sleep, the next thing I know we’re touching down in Chicago. Now where was this skill when I was commuting?!!

At O’hare, I once again smile at nostalgia but realize I have no time for that. I hit the customer service desk in a lump of fatigue only to find that I must use a kiosk to change the flight myself. I do so, only to have the tickets print out as Mark Shoup. Someone want to figure out the odds on a Mark Shoup and a Mike Shoup riding on the same flight to LAX?

I ask the agent about the rarity. She just smiles and tells me to head to the gate and have them fix it there. Wow, there aren’t any agents at the gate and the flight leaves in a half hour. Oh, scratch that, it just got pushed back 45 minutes. Time to eat something.

My luck seems to change and I get on the flight, but I fear it being a long and painful flight. Murphy seems to have gone home for the day. I zonk out and awake again to the touchdown slamdown of the wheels at 0100 (Pacific Time). Wow, in both respects.

Finally greeted by some familiar but groggy faces, Kara and her mother meet me at baggage claim only to wait for everyone’s baggage but mine. I expected it but I guess Murphy got up early just for me.

I crawled into bed, MY BED, at 0230 and collapsed. In usual Murphy fashion I then proceeded to wake completely up at 0600. Aargh.

Many thanks to Kara and her mother for patiently waiting until the wee hours of the morning to drive me home. I greatly appreciate it.

I’m home…

I’m outta here…sort of

The bags are packed, my shoes are shined and the wings are pinned but I still can’t seem to get out of here. The last person that has to sign my clearing papers will not sign anyone’s paperwork until 1300. My standby flight leaves Norfolk at 1430. It just ain’t gonna happen.

So now I’ll sit around until my actual flight leaves at 1730 and not get back home until 2230. Guess I’ll spend some quality time at the airport. Gee, I wonder what that’s like!?

Regardless, I’ve given you all fair warning. Here I come.