7/2017
One of my Nephews graduated from Texas A&M, applied and was accepted to the Marine Corps Officer Candidate School (OCS).
So, I put in for some time off at work. I originally asked for a week but the jerks at work had a hard time filling shifts so I cut it down to 3 days. Still plenty of time, just no time for sightseeing. And then, they didn’t use me! Too late, the trip was already scheduled.
We planned to fly from separate parts of the country to DC, get a few hours of sleep and meet for the graduation ceremony. The trip out was anything but uneventful for me and separately for his Mom and Brothers.
When I entered the boarding area at the airport, I properly obeyed the stupid sign that said I did not have to remove my belt or my shoes and that stupid zip-loc bag with somebody’s idea of the amount of toothpaste and deodorant that is safe to carry on an airplane. When it was my turn to walk through the metal detector, of course the alarms went off. It was one of the older metal detectors and not the newer see-through-your-clothes things. The TSA agent was reaching for his gun but I quickly informed him that I had more titanium in me than the space shuttle and that I wasn’t trying to smuggle contraband onto the plane. I was then informed that I did have to strip down my shoes and belt, empty my pockets and come with Bubba here for a wand job. And, that I was stupid and it was my fault for not knowing that in advance! Eventually, Obama and the Justice Department decided that I was safe to fly to Atlanta. So, I had a seat in the boarding area and waited.
And waited. And almost waited too long. Nowadays, they board in this prescribed order of those needing help or special something or other first, those in the Gold club second, the President’s club third and then the groups 1-99 in ascending order. I was sitting there waiting for them to call group 3, my group, when I noticed the gate attendant closing the door to the loading ramp. Apparently, they had called and loaded group 3 (only 3 groups this flight) and had paged me overhead. In noisy situations with 2 hearing aids and 2 almost deaf ears, I can barely hear anything and had obviously not heard them. The plane was full and they had filled my absence with a standby passenger. He was disappointed when they pulled him off and gave the seat back to me, to say the least.
By the time I arrived in Atlanta, late, I had correctly reset my watch to East Coast time. The terminal monitor said I had about 5 minutes to get from my arrival gate to my departure gate for DC. I hadn’t checked my bag, so I ran from point A to Point B. Well terminal A to terminal B. In Atlanta, that can be several miles. To run for me is more like a wheezing shuffle at a speed my granddaughter would find slow and carrying my bag didn’t help. When I got to the departure terminal, they were boarding. Learning from my departure experience, I just got in line, thankful that I made my connection. When I scanned my boarding pass, alarms went off, again. It seems the flight that was boarding was a flight was to West Palm Beach, FL, not DC. My connecting flight was delayed and wouldn’t even arrive for another hour. I love waiting around in airports.
My flight was almost 2 hours late arriving in DC. The car rental place closes at like 7 pm or something and doesn’t open until 8 am, or so. So, here I am at the car rental building at midnight in DC. Where I can’t get my car. Where there are no taxis (why would a car rental place need taxis, anyway?). Where the airport shuttle had stopped running. I needed to get to my hotel which I would then leave in 4 hours to drive, or not, to Quantico to attend my nephew’s shindig. Luckily, another stranded traveler called a taxi (which he had on speed dial because he was a frequent DC traveler and expected this kind of thing) and I was able to get to the hotel. At about 2:30 am. Up at 5:00 am to go to Quantico.
My sister-in-law and 2 of her other sons had their fun, too. At their airport, the agent could not find their reservations and they had to buy another set of tickets at a king’s ransom. When they got to the hotel, there were no reservations because Expedia had booked the rooms at the Chrystal City Hilton but the itinerary listed the Chrystal City Marriott! They finally figured this out but it took a couple of hours.
Improvise, adapt and overcome.
But, from here on everything went well. The Battalion Commander gave a presentation with some statistics on grades, failures, successes and my nephew did very well. The Battalion had a formal Pass and Review. The reviewing officer was the Commandant of the Marine Corps, the top Marine. The Marine Corps was making a film of the event for recruiting commercials in the future.
On day 2, my nephew was officially sworn in as a Second Lieutenant of the United States Marine Corps. Afterward, his younger brothers each placed the gold-colored bars (called butter bars) on my nephew’s tunic (jacket) epaulets. His Mom placed the bars on his blouse (shirt) collars. Then he had me salute him. His first salute.
His Dad said that he “had planned to salute you.” No, Officers don’t salute Enlisted. Enlisted salute Officers, even if they are wet behind the ears, just out of OCS nephews.
Officers are expected to wear a watch, so for graduation, I gave him one. It is a $15 analog watch with military time, date and second hand. It comes from China but the movement is made in Japan and I suspect it is a Seiko. I like the watch because I have had one for 20 years and it just won’t die. I’ve only put 4 batteries in it, so if you’re somewhere that you can’t get batteries for 5 years, you have other things to worry about more than what time it is. It is slightly smaller than the average men’s wrist watch and won’t catch on clothes and packs. Unlike a Rolex Oyster, if you drop it under a tank tread, you won’t cry about it.
We had a nice dinner and we said our goodbyes. My nephew thanked me for coming and I told him that I would have been there even if not invited, he just wouldn’t have seen me.
Semper fi , welcome to the Corps.
A very nice weekend for your grumpy Uncle/Brother Dave, Sergeant USMC, ret.
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