Despite All Warnings

So the best part about my job is that roughly every 3 months I get a vacation. This time—despite all warnings to not do this—I decided to go back to the states. Apparently, any homesickness I had developed spread to include all of America, which is why I found myself sitting on an airplane for over 24 hours. 

So here’s a post about airplanes. Mostly. Ok but its only because military planes are so different than normal planes. Like when someone stands up before the flight to check that there are medics aboard. Or when the safety brief includes desert survival skills. Uhm can we just go back to learning how to click a seat belt?

And sometimes they let you sleep on the floor.

I’ve also now gotten on and off a plane in almost every way possible. I’m only missing jumping out and jumping in. One of which I’m thinking is impossible.

Being on a military plane is also just about the same as being on a roller coaster. This last time the pilot who was either new or stupid—I suppose it’s possible that they were just doing their job having a good time—took an extremely sharp turn. For a good 30 seconds I couldn’t even lift my arm up. Pretty much best plane ride ever.

Finally, people cheer for you. Which if you aren’t military, like myself, is pretty much the most awkward thing to ever happen. However, the amazing people in New Hampshire show up for every single military flight to either welcome the military home or send them off. People shake your hand and tell you thank you and give you candies. Veterans tell their story and they salute the military members in thanks. I don’t know if there is a better way to welcome those serving our country home than to drive through a snowstorm to let them know that their sacrifice is appreciated.  It’s also a lot harder to chicken out and ditch the plane back when a bunch of people cheer you down the walkway. Granted, a volunteer did try to stop me but that was mostly because he thought I was there with my parents since school was canceled. 

My feet don't touch the ground :/

Am I Wearing Pantz?

A lot of times, my blog focuses on the many things that Afghanistan is missing. But I don’t generally talk about the things that Afghanistan offers—mainly because the perks are few and far between. But that being said there are some pretty cool things about living here.

Cool things about Afghanland:

The food is not only free; it’s also all you can eat. Good luck.

Recently developed housing that also comes furnished.

Air Conditioning. Year round.

Cashmere scarves for $10

Danger Pay and Crappy Living Pay.

Personal Trainers. Oh heyoo American tax dollars! Jaykay! I’m on a NATO base so Europe pays for it. (I’m pretty sure but I can’t actually verify the validity of this fact. Don’t hate. I pay taxes too. And I’m now in great shape so thank you for your donation.)

A rather disproportionate ratio of men to women. Which is totally cool with me. Until of course, you combine my gym time and the disproportionate number of men to women. At which point this scenario occurs—

This really happens everywhere, but the gym is probably the number one place to get stared down. Possibly because I workout in shorts or possibly because I work out at the European gym and Europe seems to be more lax in the staring department. Either way I’m developing anxiety.

Jessica’s Stream of Consciousness Upon Getting Checked Out

Check for pants. Check for shirt. Touch shorts to double-check that they are indeed on my body. Look down to ensure all clothing hasn’t disappeared. Recheck for shirt. Is there toilet paper stuck on my shoe? Did I sit in mustard? Am I wearing pants? What are you looking at? Tell me!

Literally, this happens every time. Unless it’s a car that is driving unusually slow by me in which case I reevaluate my chances at the Olympic event of speed walking because I’m clearly walking 20 kph. They’re not being weird; I’m just that fast. Winner.

Please don’t think I’m trying to brag about how I’m really awesome (I am awesome.) but remember there is a pretty big lack of females on base. And finally, I’m not looking for compliments. Some of those stares look down right hostile and would make you think you sat in mustard too. Also, I may or may not be traumatized from an 8^th grade Halloween experience of “sitting in Ketchup”.

#Olympics2016 #Brazil