The Bang Gets Pulled Over

Ever since the move to our new base, transportation has been a bear of a problem. From Grand Theft Auto, to diesel in an unleaded engine, to a van that shuts off every 400 meters or so, our squadron has had a hard time with the execution of “point A to point B.” We can take airplanes and fly them all over the desert, but trying to traverse the two miles between our quarters and our squadron is our Achilles Heel. There is one exception to this: The Bang. The Bang is our 20 passenger bus that we somehow acquired as a crew vehicle. It’s a monstrous circa-early-90s public metro style bus that we are using to the best of our abilities. Early when we made the move out here, our Commander told us, “Make this place your home. Make it comfortable.” Well, give us an inch and we’ll take a mile. With the help of some clutch online shopping, the LPA got a hold of The Bang with some battery operated lights and reflective tape. Here’s the result:

                      

It’s pretty loud. Driving this bus around with all the lights on and seeing people’s reactions is hysterical, although, it would seem that someone didn’t find this bus as funny as we do, as it’s already been pulled over once. Apparently this bus is “offensive” and someone complained, and the cops had been “looking for it.” We surmised they must not be looking very hard since we drive it around lit up like a slot machine at Binion’s. That and the cop to regular military member ratio is about 4:1.

The greatest part about The Bang is the built in Plausible Deniability factor. In order for anyone to truly get offended by the phrase “BANG” requires them to know exactly what we’re referencing, which makes them complicit. But never at any point does the conversation require the same admission from us. So they are guilty and we are innocent, and along the way, we get to mess with people, which is a win every time in my book. This is what makes driving The Bang so much fun. You’ll see what I mean later.

Last night I was hanging out in the squadron, helping out on a non flying day. I was there with a couple of our back enders who approached me with a request:

Scott: Hey, we have a proposal for you.
Me: Go
Scott: Well, it’s about The Bang. We want to…
Me: I’m gonna stop you right there. Let me ask you a question. Does what you’re about to propose cause mischief or mayhem?
Scott: Yes, I would say so.
Me: That’s all I need to hear, go forth and prosper.

In truth all they did was get some more glint tape and write BANG on the front, and make some clutch fuzzy dice for the rear view mirror. In general they just made The Bang more of a statement than it already was, and I’m definitely for that. 

Well, the night drags along and as we’re getting ready to leave around 0445, we realize we’re going to take two crews back to our housing in The Bang. Awesome! The only thing better than a gaudy party bus is a gaudy party bus full of people! We all load into The Bang and start heading home, about 12 people total. As we’re heading down the hill, I notice flashing lights from a cop car off to the right. We could easily avoid them and take an alternate route, but what’s the fun in that? So I holler at Bennett, who was driving, “You don’t have a hair on your ass if you don’t drive past these cops!” We’re all aircrew, so once someone’s manliness is challenged, it might as well be a triple-dog-dare to lick a frozen flagpole. It’s bound to happen. Sure enough, Bennett doesn’t disappoint and drives right past the cops who were pulled off to the side, blocking a side street. We go tearing past, with most of the people in the van fist pumping furiously and hooting wildly. Both of the cops notice our bus go past, half wander out into the street watching us go, completely bewildered beyond all hope. One of them actually takes his hat off and scratches his head, as if someone asked him to calculate the shuttle’s atmospheric reentry angle. Sure enough, they hop in their cruiser and start following us. One of the other guys on the bus notices they don’t have their lights on:

O’Doyle: Look how covert they are! They don’t have their lights on like they’re sneaking up on us.
Me: I think we’re just putting out enough light for both of us.

We make it back to our housing with the 5-0 still in tow. We pull off and the cops keep going, but we just assume they’re going to sweep around back, in a classic “pincer move.” Bennett drops about half of the people off and we head back out for breakfast, but not before we see the cops circling behind our housing complex, as if they are waiting for the perfect opportunity to swoop in for the kill. Turns out, that is precisely what they were doing. The moment we turn onto the main road, the cops hit the lights and pull us over. Not one cop car, but TWO! This amuses me to no end, because I cannot wait to hear their reasoning for this. My giddiness and excitement about getting pulled over aggravates Jammer to no end, because he wants breakfast, not interaction with the MPs, and as the senior officer on board, he sees this spiraling out of control quickly. The cops approach the passenger side window, and the exchange begins. Luckily for us, we had Stecker and Bennett in the front, two guys who could probably talk their way out of an empty bank vault with ski masks on.

Stecker: Good evening, what can we do for you?
Cop: Sir, do you know why we pulled you over?
Stecker: No, I was wondering just that.
Cop: Well, Sir, we’ve had a number of complaints about this bus.
Stecker: Really? That’s the first I’ve heard. Why are people complaining?
Cop (fidgeting nervously): Well… because it says “BANG” on the back.
Stecker (trying his best to make the cop say it): What’s wrong with “BANG?” What connotation are people using for the phrase “BANG?”
Cop (BLATANTLY LYING TO ALL OF US): Well… you know… some people might think it’s a bomb, or there are explosives on board.
Stecker: Seriously?

Oh you’re not even trying! REALLY?!? A Vehicle Borne IED lit up like a disco ball. Yeah, let’s advertise that we have a bomb with flashing lights and an onomatopoetic phrase on the back. They’ll come running like zombies to a corpse buffet. The cop realizes that he’s not making much sense and he’s not getting ANYWHERE talking to Stecker, who is talking circles around him so fast his head is spinning, so he asks Bennett to step out of the bus with him so he can get his information. By this point I’m laughing SO hard I can’t breathe and Jammer looks like he’s about to hit me. Of course the cop didn’t do himself any favors by pulling Bennett out. We open the window so we can hear what’s going on, and one of the first things we hear is Bennett say, “Sir, there is no regulation that says that I am not allowed to decorate my bus like this,” which only makes me howl louder. Jammer then growls at me, “You’re getting a damn bus license. We’re not throwing these guys under the bus like this anymore, literally.” I agree with him, but point out that Bennett is holding his own just fine. Come to find out, the cops actually like The Bang. They were pretty cool guys, laughing about it and saying, “We think this bus is awesome!” But I guess they weren’t kidding when they said people were complaining, which made me wonder a couple of things. Is that what the military is coming to out here? People (read: people who don’t fly AKA non operators AKA shoe clerks) have so much time on their hands that they are going to complain about a bus with lights on it? So we gave them our squadron number and told them to pass it out so the people complaining can call us directly and we can tell them how we’re not doing anything wrong, and they could probably find a better way to use their time instead of wasting ours. 

I honestly think we got pulled over by two cop cars because the first car radioed their buddies to tell them they found The Bang and to get their asses over to housing to see it. Our bus has become the vehicular equivalent of Sasquatch. I know those cops all went back to the station and bragged about pulling The Bang over, much to the chagrin of all the less fortunate MPs. “Yeah, we saw The Bang. And we PULLED IT OVER!” At least we know we made their morning more entertaining.

As we were pulling away, Heather comments, “So do you think they get briefed every morning at Roll Call to look out for The Bang? Do the cops here really have that little going on?” I replied, “I guess they really are getting a bunch of complaints, which means everyone else has too much time on their hands. I can just picture their Shift Boss, some crusty old Sergeant Major with a huge biscuit duster on his upper lip chugging coffee and screaming, ‘Alright! I’m putting out an APB on The Bang. Someone find this damn bus! People keep calling saying they are disturbing the peace. I’ve got an ulcer the size of Montana, and it feels like I’ve swallowed a small sun, the last thing I need is the Captain handing me my ass because we can’t find one F-ing bus. Get out there and get me The Bang, or you’ll all be pumping shitters in Mosul. Now get out of my face! Dismissed!’”

While this was easily one of the greatest highlights of my time out here, I hardly doubt the adventures of The Bang will be limited to this. I highly suspect that more stories will follow as the legend of The Bang is forever recorded in Iraqi lore.

Conversation of the Day

This occurred during our latest FloFit work out. We were all having a hard time with the blistering repertoire of ab workouts that J-Flo was throwing at us, and in between we had this conversation:

Meat: I feel like everything is getting stronger but my hip flexors.
Juice: You just need to stretch them out man, here's how I stretch em. Juice proceeds to lay flat and perform what appeared to be unspeakable acts on a workout mat. See? That seems to work for me.
All of us stare at him in abject shock.
Juice: What?
Me: Umm, I'm pretty sure I just witnessed you make aggressive, passionate love to an invisible woman. I am going to go vomit now. Thanks for that visual. That was horrifying.
Meat: Yeah, that was pretty gross dude.

I had to share this one, as most of the conversations during FloFit normally follow the mold of us complaining about the workouts but begrudgingly complying. This one had us all cracking up, and as most of you know, if you can laugh through the pain of a workout, it's not as tough. Take care!

Wellen

Bedouin tents, Grand Theft Auto, and Haboob attacks

Sorry again for the delayed posting, this move has been something else. Our squadron is finally settled at our new base, and the transition has been quite interesting. Our new base is nice; quiet, open and relatively laid back (even if it does smell like a rotten sulfur pit most of the time), and our squadron all lives by each other, which kind of gives it the feeling of summer camp. At our last base, we were spread out through the main base housing complex, whereas here, you can’t walk outside of your room without seeing someone you work with. Our rooming situation is somewhat similar to the last base as well: One room for two people and a door that opens up to a wide gravel pit. The problem with the rooms is that if your roommate is trying to sleep during the day – which is the case for us since J-Flo and I are both flying nights – there’s no way to avoid letting in a blinding amount of sun and most likely waking your roommate up. J-Flo and I tried to rectify this situation by making canopies for our bed. These aren’t the frilly four post beds that you’d see in Southern Living. Our room looks like a MacGyvered Bedouin village: 550 cord tied onto bolts that we backed out of the ceiling to support the sheets we tied up. When we were done, I commented to J-Flo, “It looks like an opium den in here. All we need are some sitars playing and some belly dancers.” Here’s a picture of J-Flo’s tent:

 We made the canopies one afternoon in a blur of caffeine induced productivity. We had a big pile of sheets that J-Flo brought from our last base, and while we were fixing the room up we had this conversation:

Me: What sheets can I use?
J-Flo: You can use any of them, just not the pillow. That’s my ass pillow.
Me (Long awkward pause, just staring): Umm….ass pillow huh?
J-Flo: Well, yeah…It’s my – you know what, don’t worry about it.
Me: Well, you said ass pillow. Now I don’t feel like I can move past it.
J-Flo (exasperated with me): You know, it’s just a pillow that I sit on. It’s for my ass.
Me: You mean like when you make tea and sit on the floor?
J-Flo: Well, now you’re just being racist.

Honestly though, I got lucky with a pretty awesome roommate. We’ve started working out at the same time so he can teach me some Tae Kwon Do, and for the added benefit of having someone there to motivate you. Guys in the squadron have started noticing our workout routine is a real gut check and have started tagging along, and dubbed it FloFit. Let me say this about J-Flo: He’s a FREAK OF NATURE. I’m in pretty good shape, but every time I work out with him, I find myself having to dig deeper than I thought just to keep up. I swear he’s made out of corrugated steel. One of the other guys in the squadron was tagging along and after a particularly vicious ab workout had this question for me:

Rob (choking back vomit): Where the HELL did you find this guy?!
Me (face down, gasping for air): Found him on the black market. They captured him in Chernobyl’s melted reactor core. He’s illegal in 14 states and wanted in Alaska for Caribou genocide.
Rob (still not breathing): Wait…..what?

Besides working out like a beast and flying occasionally, we’ve been spending our time trying to figure out how to get around this base. Our squadron is about 80 people strong, but for whatever reason we only have 4 vehicles with which to get around. It’s weird, we’ll be walking down the street to chow, about a ¾ mile hike, and you’ll see a bunch of Army troops driving by in nice vehicles by themselves. Dan Bell put it best, “I wish I was an Army Sergeant so I could have my own Suburban.” Most of the time, we have to end up relying on the bus routes on base, although that’s wrought with peril as well. The base is really spread out and the bus drivers are both maniacal at considerate at the same time. Sometimes you’ll be sitting at a bus stop and the bus you’ll be trying to catch will just go screaming right past. Other times, you might be walking back from chow with only about 300 yards to go, and a bus will pull up and open the door and try and give you a lift for the last stretch. It’s weird.

One of the vehicles we had was loaned to us. I don’t think we were planning on giving it back at all, in fact. It was a van (a freaking sweet van, mind you) and we named it -- Phlupher….long story -- and treated it as our own for a couple days. It was like the van from Old School where Will Ferrell and Vince Vaughn kidnap all of their pledges, except it was gold and had a body lift and off road suspension on it. It was AWESOME.  Well, we treated it great until one of the Iraqis filled the tank with diesel and completely wrecked the engine. I can’t even figure out how he put diesel in the tank, the nozzle doesn’t even fit. I’m actually a little impressed. So we were down one vehicle. Great. Well one day, there was a van that looked remarkably similar to Phlupher parked outside our housing. Someone in the squadron – we still don’t know who, and no, it wasn't me – saw it and thought, “Awesome! Phlupher is back!” So they jumped in and took it to the squadron, put a name back on the windshield and went about business as usual. This worked great for a couple of days until the van was REPORTED AS STOLEN. Uh oh. I walked into to talk to Juice – our scheduler – one day, trying to figure out when I’d be flying, and he asks me:

Juice: So do you know anything about Phlupher 2?
Me: No, what do you mean?
Juice: Well, apparently that van was stolen, and SSgt Schmidt just got pulled over and almost shot in the head.
Me (laughing so hard I’m about to swallow my tongue): HAHAHAHA!!!! You can’t be serious!
Juice: I am serious! Do you know who took that van? We have to figure out who just hijacked the van. They aren’t going to be in trouble, we just need to know who.
Me: Yeah, good luck with that. I’m sure you’ll have people lining up to confess.

In addition to trying to figure out how to get around, get the mission done, and get in beastly shape, we also have sand storms to deal with. We’re kind of in the middle of nowhere and these things can pop up with no notice or provocation. I had heard about Haboobs before, but I never thought they’d be as bad as they are. It's not so much that it's sand blowing around, it's more like atomized dust that swirls around, and gets EVERYWHERE. Yes, everywhere. Here’s a picture Juice took of one that rolled in quite suddenly:

Vicious looking, right? This normally isn’t a problem since we’re supposed to have all the gear we need. However, since I was one of the crews that delivered the aircraft, I had shipped most of my gear ahead so it would be there when I arrived.  This would’ve worked great if it wasn’t for the squadron losing track of my stuff, which found me in the middle of the sand storm with no goggles, no covering, nothing that I needed. It went from a clear day to looking like footage from the Mars landing outside in a matter of only 10 minutes. These storms are no joke. Thank God I wasn’t flying in it. So we’ve dealt with a couple of those, no thanks to the weather shop. You would think if your only job was to tell people about devastating weather phenomena that they would be able to catch these things rolling in. I finally found all of my gear buried in the back of a storage closet two days later. I loaded all my gear up into the back of our bread truck and had to deliver the DO to a jet to look at some avionics issues before I took my stuff back. He looks at all of the crap and asks, "What's all this shit back here?" I say, "It's the rest of my gear, sir. I finally found it." He replies, "you haven't had this stuff? Wow, that sucks, I'm sorry." It did suck, but I have it now, at least, despite the two pounds of sand I'm currently lugging about in my lungs.

Well, I hope this post suffices for you all. I promise to try and write more once my Masters classes calm down. Take care!

Wellen