Ambiguity intended.
Yesterday morning, I awoke to the sound of gushing water. No leaks or dams overflowing...no. Just a gully-washer of mythical proportions. I was going on shift so I had no "flex time" choices to make, unfortunately. I was to be there NLT 0600. No excuses.
I sprinted the ~20 feet to my truck, unlocking it remotely as I ran. For all my speed, I was dripping when I pulled out of the drive. It was as though I'd run through a jungle waterfall. There was even a good inch of water washing over my sidewalk.
Less than half a mile from home, going about 30mph with headlights on and windshield washers slapping madly, I couldn't see well enough to note the huge puddle I drove into. Had I not been in an elevated (4WD) vehicle, I doubt I'd have made it past that point. The water was easily over my axles.
But, I drive a Toyota not for nothing. I emerged unscathed on the other side. The storm was almost completely clear within three miles. I drove on to work thinking they'd never believe my reasons for being late.
As it turns out, I walked in just at 0600, so I took a bit of ribbing for pushing my showtime, then got busy preparing the morning brief, and preparing myself to give it. It was a fairly easy day, as far as these things go. I was up-to-speed on most that was happening, and quickly got current on all else. I walked into my commander's office at 0830 in a good mood, ready to go.
There was a new chief* in the office. He rose respectfully as I came in and I'd swear he was smirking a bit. I took one look at him and thought he looked exactly like a young NCO I'd know at Falcon AFB "back in the day." For some reason, I never trust my intuition when it tells me I've just bumped into someone I knew back then. Maybe because so much water is under the bridge...or maybe just because it happens so rarely. I said to him, "Why do you look so familiar to me?"
* Chief Master Sergeant, the AF rank for E-9.
He said, "We were at Peterson together in the late 80's." Well. I should have trusted myself. It was him. We were programmers together in the 1002SSSS (Space Systems Support Squadron...we did programming for GPS) at what is now Shriever AFB, Colorado. I remember him fondly. He's good people.
His name is Greg Owens, and he was a Staff Sergeant in those days; I was probably a Senior Airman or Sergeant. He and his wife had a baby girl who was learning to talk, and they decided to never use curse words in front of her, so they'd taught themselves to say "Shite!" or something similar, as their own personal by-words. I asked him about his family, and that I remembered he had a daughter. He said, "She's in college now."
Wow. Just wow. Time flies.
The strange thing is, for how old he looks (except for the stripes), he is the young man I knew then. He hasn't changed.
It was a strange but wonderful feeling. When I was at Vandenberg, I ran into a couple of men who were young officers then, men I'd worked closely with. They both remembered me from Falcon, as well, but until yesterday, I hadn't encountered any enlisted folk I knew then.
I guess the really weird thing is, he defers to my rank, as the professional he is, but I still feel like he outranks me. Maybe that's the young enlisted experience in me, or maybe it's just common sense.
So anyhow...it couldn't have happened to a nicer man (as though Chief just "happens" to people). I'm strangely proud of his achievement...as if I had anything to do with it.
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