Well, I am living on an aircraft carrier. My lease ran out on my place in Ventura County, and some guy named Stewart who had a camoflauge knapsack and a long red beard came up to me and said rather loudly, "Do you need a place to rest your head at night?" I had been taking a lot of Ambien around that time (I think it was about 2 in the morning, and I was crawling somewhere near the PCH at Morning View), and his voice was really persuasive, so I said, "Yes!" I guess I didn't hear him, or the recruiter, when they told me that I needed to join the Navy and then fly off a floating postage stamp as an occupation to get such lovely shelter (and four roommates!). Why did I walk with Stewart to the recruiting office? And why did he want to take me there so badly? Damn Ambien. Wicked stuff.
Okay, so maybe I made that whole story up. Or maybe I didn't...?
The ship isn't too bad--yet. Overall, the workload is better because people are on all different schedules with flights, preparation, etc. and the ground jobs (of which I have many) are minimized. I'm still waiting on those first cat shots and traps, so I have yet to experience that. (I'm guessing most everyone will stop reading now.) It's a pretty awesome thing to watch, though. It's teamwork at its best!
Running on a treadmill while the ship moves at 20+ knots through the ocean is fun. Except for the almost falling off the treadmill about five times part, at least. The food is pretty good, except for the pancakes that I just had that had the firmness of a frisbee.
So, yes, life is pretty good.
C
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