I’m done flying for the rest of the year. 21 airports in 7 countries… I’m done. It’s nice to call it a year and look forward to the next. But it was an interesting little trip.
I got to the airport ass early on Saturday morning to do the quick Chicago to Detroit leg and back. I didn’t get any sleep the night before so leaving the bachelor pad at 4:30am didn’t help. Riding the Blue Line is a treat at that time because you’re the only person in your particular car who is not homeless. But I digress. It was a nice short trip and I bought muffins for the flight crew so they were instantly my bitches.
I got back to O’Hare around 10:30 and had 4 hours to kill until my flight to Dallas so I decided to go wander the airport because it hit me that despite all the time I spend there, I don’t know it that well. I didn’t know who Lt. Cmdr Edward “Butch” O’Hare was, but got to read his biography and see the replica of his plane. I’m inclined to find his autobiography because he sounds like a badass. I did Google his Medal of Honor Citation on my Treo at the airport and got this:
For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in aerial combat, at grave risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty, as section leader and pilot of Fighting Squadron 3 on 20 February 1942. Having lost the assistance of his teammates, Lt. O’Hare interposed his plane between his ship and an advancing enemy formation of 9 attacking twin-engine heavy bombers. Without hesitation, alone and unaided, he repeatedly attacked this enemy formation, at close range in the face of intense combined machinegun and cannon fire. Despite this concentrated opposition, Lt. O’Hare, by his gallant and courageous action, his extremely skillful marksmanship in making the most of every shot of his limited amount of ammunition, shot down 5 enemy bombers and severely damaged a sixth before they reached the bomb release point. As a result of his gallant action–one of the most daring, if not the most daring, single action in the history of combat aviation–he undoubtedly saved his carrier from serious damage.
If that’s not a hero and worthy of having an airport named after you, I don’t know what is.
I wandered from Terminal 3 through Terminals 2 and 1 and realized that they suck so I took the tram over to Terminal 5 because at least the International Terminal would be a little more stimulating but since most of the flights leave in the evening and it was merely noon, it was nothin’ but tumbleweeds rollin’ down the concourse. I went back to Terminal 3 and went to the gate where my flight would be in 2 and a half hours and fell asleep on the floor. I woke up about 45 minutes before the scheduled departure to find out that the gate had moved and walked over. At the gate there was this super hot woman I was going to approach but her husband and her two kids were near with her so I figured that her husband wouldn’t let her sit with me up in First. But whatever. The flight was delayed and I nearly missed my connection in Dallas (I did have to haul ass and they were just about to close the door). That sucked because I don’t like to have to walk fast in an airport let alone expose the poor people at DFW to a big guy lumbering down the terminal with arms flailing.
I get to the BWI Hampton Inn and drop my stuff in the room and since I was feeling quite awake, I asked the front desk staff where I could get a beer and watch the Broncos-Bills game that was within walking distance. She said, oh, it’s at a bar at the Marriott and it’s about a mile away but I can get the shuttle bus driver to take you. I shot her a look of “r u serious?” and the next thing you know my new friend is taking me to a bar which turned out to be a 2 minute drive away and a 10 minute walk in return. I unsuccessfully tried to chat up a petite curly haired girl who was there for a wedding so I ended up drinking with a few Airmen and then went back to the hotel to get a few hours of sleep before my flight back home.
My flights back were boring. About 60 soldiers from a Quartermaster Battalion were on my flight so that was interesting when it came to wandering around the gate. I let one guy use my cell phone to call home and helped a few use the self-service kiosk at checkin and was impressed at how polite all of them were. I shouldn’t be called “Sir” unless you’re being snarky but here they were, calling me “Sir” like I had earned that right. It makes you feel good about the military when you meet nothing but polite young men and women.
So now it’s time for a nap and then dinner. Yay for stuff!
