U.S.A : 4 Days Of Transfers, The Warrior Dash, And Military-Bible Camp
Summer 20.X.1: Part IV
The year was still 20.X.1…....
.. ..And there I was: on my way to the lower 48 of the United States coming from Japan. Being the frugal traveler I am, I got a really cheap plane ticket. The catch? A few plane transfers… and by a few, I mean 4 days' worth. Before I had to deal with that though, I had something bigger to worry about. Huge, I would say. One really big, really heavy bag. Thanks Thailand conservation organization for adding immensely to the size of my luggage. Though I MAY be partly to blame. My stint in Okinawa gave me WAY too many souvenirs for friends. As a result, I was left with one regular sized bag (which would normally be my only bag), and one bag that looked like the balloon part of a hot air balloon filled with goods and held together by duct tape. It weighed about 100kg. Carrying these two bags was a genius idea… minus the carrying part. I wound up having to tie them to myself on the way to the airport.....
From now on, everyone is getting very small souvenirs…....
On the way to the airport, I met an expatriate Texan who now lived in Japan as an entrepreneur. A successful one at that. His girlfriend was a Kyokushin Karate Fighter, and the three of us got to talking on the train to the airport. He was on his way to the Philippines, and extended to me an offer: should I find myself in the Philippines he would assure I was well taken care of. Deal. As we talked, he told me about how smoothly he moves through airports. I told him I was just the opposite. Every time I go to one I'm treated to a series of unfortunate circumstances, or I'm treated like I'm made of bombs. These are my options. Turns out, that energy is spreadable, as we both had less than fun at the airport. He was told his plane ticket was invalid, and after hours of pleading and bargaining…. He had to buy a new one. Full price. Me on the other hand, I had problems with my bags.....
The lady behind the counter informed me that my checked bag was overweight. Grossly. As a result, it was going to cost 300$ USD to be checked. A bit much. She then told me that if I could make the bag a few kilos lighter, it would only be 100$USD to check. So, I started off to find a way to make the bag lighter. As I was going, the employee mentioned that if I could split that bag into TWO bags, it would be free to check them. That's what I wanted to hear. With some creative finagling, I did it. Problem solved.....
I went to the security check to get to the plane. Then I was called over for the all-to-familiar "additional screening".....
"Are there bottles in this bag?"....
Yes.....
"Liquor?"....
Yes?....
"Get rid of it."....
No.....
"You can't take liquor on the plane. Throw it away or it will be confiscated."....
These are souvenirs.....
"NO."....
They're in boxes, with wrapping paper on them, in another box, inside a bag! Plus, I can buy liquor on the plane!....
"Yes, but you can't BRING it onto the plane. You can put it in your checked bags, or put it in the trash."....
My bags are long gone!....
"Move along sir."....
And with that I was ushered out of the security check area and back into the general area. Dammit. I was not bailing on these bottles. They were gifts to friends, on was a wedding gift. They were bottles of Habu-shu (pit viper liquor from Okinawa) and a bottle of rum from Thailand (a gift from my friend Julie). I approached the women at the counter who had checked me in, and explained the situation. She said that they would be able to retrieve my bags… but by the time they got there, the plane would probably be taking off. Of course. It was a chance I had to take though. I waited and waited some more, tension building constantly while I watched the time tick away on the airport clock. After some time my bags came, and now I had no time to get to the plane. I stowed the booze in the two bags, and the check in lady told me to follow her. She took me through the 'employee only' doors all the way to the plane, bypassing all the time-wasting areas. Because of her, I made it. And with all my belongings!....
Or so I thought….....
With the usual ridiculousness out of the way, I was now free to board the plane. Next stop: Thailand. Even though Bangkok is 6 hours in the opposite direction, that's where I was heading.....
That's the price you pay when you pay the cheapest price.....
Once I arrived in Bangkok I had a layover of some significance, but not long enough to escape the airport with a 100kg bag and return in time. I changed over some yen into baht and got plenty of food and secured a place in the airport to make camp. I slept, read, and carried on through the night. The next morning I showed up for my flight several hours early. I would not be having a repeat of the last time I tried to leave, or rather escape, Thailand. Eventually I flew out, bound for Los Angeles… flying over Tokyo. 18 or so hours later I arrived in one piece. My luggage was not so fortunate. On claiming my bags I discovered that Thai airways was kind enough to shatter the bottle of rum inside my bag, despite the warnings plastered all over it, and my careful packing. They have a habit of breaking things it would seem. Also, now I smelled like I just sacked a port in the Caribbean, which I was sure would not help me get through security any easier. I was right. United States Customs was not so subtle in their suggesting I may not be welcome in the country, along with all the other foreigners and immigrants, which it would seem I had been lumped together with. Not getting in was starting to sound like a treat by the end. The only reason I was in the country at all was because school was starting. First, I had to get there though. ....
After I had settled in LA, I needed to camp for the night until my next flight. Using a baggage cart I'd commandeered and many blankets Delta and Thai airways had unknowingly donated to me, I built a fort in the airport. I rolled out my sleeping bag and camped out. I'd made camp in worse places, that's for sure. The next day I set out for the security checkpoints. I'm not sure where they found the people that where working, but let's just say they weren't the cream of the crop. I hope. Baby huey and girl-shrek broke the zippers on my bags, while violently insisting that they knew what they were doing. Yeah, I knew what they were doing to…breaking my things. These are the people responsible for the safety and protection of U.S travel? That explains that. ....
I left LA and headed towards Colorado. I was greeted by flight changes and delays, and people cos-playing for some event they were heading to. From Colorado I went east, and finally ended up in the Midwest, where I was heading. ....
17 flights in 3 months. I think that will do. From now on, any extended venture I may be on will not involve planes…. Or at least airports. ....
I also wasn't able to change my money over to USD because the changer was closed when I got there. ....
School was getting ready to start, but before that, I had a mandatory "leadership" camp that I had to attend for school, held in Wisconsin. For a week. Being Nash however, stumbling into camp jet-lagged fresh from some adventure wouldn't have been enough. I returned in time to make sure the day before I left for camp I could run in the Warrior Dash.....
The Warrior Dash is a 3 mile obstacle course featuring such things as fire, barbed wire, and mud. Afterwards you get a beer and a fuzzy Viking helmet. They also have huge turkey legs. This was my kind of place. I even saw a few injuries. Some girl had a broken arm and heat stroke, and a guy broke his ankle.. at about mid-shin. I also had a slight boo-boo as a result of a short cut I took, almost.....
During the obstacle course there was a point at which everyone was wading through what appeared to be a river of poop. I didn't feel like going hip-deep in dooty, and I saw a path leading up the river bank. It was steep and slick with mud, but if I could pull it off I wouldn't have to go in the muck. I started up the slope, but it was too steep and slick to traverse. Luckily enough there where several rocks dug into the slime, so all I had to do was hop from rock to rock and work my way up the overhang. So I did. When I jumped to the highest point along the cliff, the rock I jumped onto gave out. My body was turned parallel to the ground in midair, but instead of falling 3 feet to the ground, I went over the side of the overhang on the bank, and plummeted down towards the river. I hit a large slab of rock on the ground, bounced into the air, and went into the river of poop; at which point my entire body became submerged in feces, and the resulting splash made a stream of it shoot into my mouth. Not what I had in mind, but usually the kind of thing that happens when I take a short cut.....
Also, the hit with the rock slab had bashed my left shin, and I thought I might have broken it because of all the blood and the way it felt. Good thing I smeared all the poop-mud on it.....
After the course we all "cleaned off" in a watering hole that smelled like diarrhea and was full of dead fish, garbage, duck poop, and human pee. At least the beer and turkey leg where good. I also didn't break my leg (probably), but I do now have a rather interesting set of scars that look exactly like I was swiped by a large cat, like a cougar.....
THAT'S how I show up for mandatory meetings. The next morning I got together with the friends I was riding to Wisconsin with. Everyone had an incredible amount of luggage, save for me of course. Everyone at camp, even the men, had several bags. This earned me the nickname "one-bag Nash". That's how I travel… and I still wound up over packing. When the four of us got in the vehicle to go to camp, we decided that I should have the first shift driving. Predictably when I got in the van, it wouldn't start, and one of the doors broke. It's not traveling with Nash unless things like that happen. I wasn't opposed to it though, as it meant putting off going to a place I didn't want to go. I had been calling it "camp no-fun" for some time, and a friend of mine described it as "military-bible camp". She said I might have trouble with it, due to my "distain for authority and rules". I didn't know what she meant, but I didn't like the description that was given to me:....
"Every morning you wake up to revelee at 7am. Breakfast is at 7:30. You are assigned an eating unit to eat with; you don't get to pick where or with whom you eat. Boys and girls cabins are at opposite ends of camp, and your cabin mates are assigned to you as well. During breakfast is cabin inspection. After breakfast until lunch you will do activities with your 'family' (unit). Your family is assigned to you, and you will leave none of them behind. Noon is lunch. Then 'free time' for a couple of hours and then back to activities, dinner, actives, and at 10pm you hear taps. That's bed time."....
On top of all that, we also had to study Victorian style eating etiquette. I did not abide. They were just lucky I didn't slam my dishes onto the floor to signal I wanted more. Instead, I spent my meals entertaining my eating mates with my stories upon request. I also spent nights by the campfire doing the same thing. Turn out these tales made me somewhat popular for passing the time in an entertaining way. There was a mandatory 'talent' show we had to do as well, and I more than a few people tell me I needed to get a television show. HELP ME GET ONE!....
Another interesting thing we had to do was the "formal dinner" we were forced to attend, using our learned etiquette and dressed in dress-up cloths…of which I own none. I just wore khaki pants and a hot-climate survival shirt. And converse. Everyone wondered why my pants where so wrinkly. The answer? I used my dress cloths to stuff my pillow case (and my pillow case was the compression sack for my sleeping bag). ....
The higher-ups where just as bad as the camp description. The gamut was run from a militant old man to an ambiguously effeminate spaz, and everything in-between.....
It wasn't all bad though. We got to challenge a high ropes course. In fact, my family got the high score! We were team high score! The biggest problem I had with the camp, ridiculous crap aside, was that it actually was very fun. I was so ready to have a bad time, but it was just fun. I made a bunch of new friends and contacts, and had an overall enjoyable experience. How dare they? It was predominantly a "leadership" camp though, and so we were evaluated on our leadership qualities and abilities and ranked. Even though I was ranked high and my family consistently overcame all obstacles there was some consistency in my anonymous reviews. Keep in mind, no one was to speak about what they were righting to anyone else, so that each review would be original and uninfluenced. Here are some excerpts from the "needs improvement in…" column from 4 of the 7 review I received:....
"Loses focus sometimes and gets distracted"....
"He has a tendency of getting sidetracked"....
"He sometimes gets distracted"....
"We spent a lot of time joking around"....
Hmm…. Strains coincidence. Can it still be called getting distracted when your group is the best? I would say I have a unique leadership style is all… or a unique living style… whatever works.....
With our week of camp over, we all headed back from whence we came. We arrived late Saturday, and school proper began on that following Monday. With that, the summer was over… but I had new plans forming… someone from camp had just told me of an opportunity on a ship for a few months that just happened to be going my way…....
Back to improvising my plans….
-Nash
.. ..And there I was: on my way to the lower 48 of the United States coming from Japan. Being the frugal traveler I am, I got a really cheap plane ticket. The catch? A few plane transfers… and by a few, I mean 4 days' worth. Before I had to deal with that though, I had something bigger to worry about. Huge, I would say. One really big, really heavy bag. Thanks Thailand conservation organization for adding immensely to the size of my luggage. Though I MAY be partly to blame. My stint in Okinawa gave me WAY too many souvenirs for friends. As a result, I was left with one regular sized bag (which would normally be my only bag), and one bag that looked like the balloon part of a hot air balloon filled with goods and held together by duct tape. It weighed about 100kg. Carrying these two bags was a genius idea… minus the carrying part. I wound up having to tie them to myself on the way to the airport.....
From now on, everyone is getting very small souvenirs…....
On the way to the airport, I met an expatriate Texan who now lived in Japan as an entrepreneur. A successful one at that. His girlfriend was a Kyokushin Karate Fighter, and the three of us got to talking on the train to the airport. He was on his way to the Philippines, and extended to me an offer: should I find myself in the Philippines he would assure I was well taken care of. Deal. As we talked, he told me about how smoothly he moves through airports. I told him I was just the opposite. Every time I go to one I'm treated to a series of unfortunate circumstances, or I'm treated like I'm made of bombs. These are my options. Turns out, that energy is spreadable, as we both had less than fun at the airport. He was told his plane ticket was invalid, and after hours of pleading and bargaining…. He had to buy a new one. Full price. Me on the other hand, I had problems with my bags.....
The lady behind the counter informed me that my checked bag was overweight. Grossly. As a result, it was going to cost 300$ USD to be checked. A bit much. She then told me that if I could make the bag a few kilos lighter, it would only be 100$USD to check. So, I started off to find a way to make the bag lighter. As I was going, the employee mentioned that if I could split that bag into TWO bags, it would be free to check them. That's what I wanted to hear. With some creative finagling, I did it. Problem solved.....
I went to the security check to get to the plane. Then I was called over for the all-to-familiar "additional screening".....
"Are there bottles in this bag?"....
Yes.....
"Liquor?"....
Yes?....
"Get rid of it."....
No.....
"You can't take liquor on the plane. Throw it away or it will be confiscated."....
These are souvenirs.....
"NO."....
They're in boxes, with wrapping paper on them, in another box, inside a bag! Plus, I can buy liquor on the plane!....
"Yes, but you can't BRING it onto the plane. You can put it in your checked bags, or put it in the trash."....
My bags are long gone!....
"Move along sir."....
And with that I was ushered out of the security check area and back into the general area. Dammit. I was not bailing on these bottles. They were gifts to friends, on was a wedding gift. They were bottles of Habu-shu (pit viper liquor from Okinawa) and a bottle of rum from Thailand (a gift from my friend Julie). I approached the women at the counter who had checked me in, and explained the situation. She said that they would be able to retrieve my bags… but by the time they got there, the plane would probably be taking off. Of course. It was a chance I had to take though. I waited and waited some more, tension building constantly while I watched the time tick away on the airport clock. After some time my bags came, and now I had no time to get to the plane. I stowed the booze in the two bags, and the check in lady told me to follow her. She took me through the 'employee only' doors all the way to the plane, bypassing all the time-wasting areas. Because of her, I made it. And with all my belongings!....
Or so I thought….....
With the usual ridiculousness out of the way, I was now free to board the plane. Next stop: Thailand. Even though Bangkok is 6 hours in the opposite direction, that's where I was heading.....
That's the price you pay when you pay the cheapest price.....
Once I arrived in Bangkok I had a layover of some significance, but not long enough to escape the airport with a 100kg bag and return in time. I changed over some yen into baht and got plenty of food and secured a place in the airport to make camp. I slept, read, and carried on through the night. The next morning I showed up for my flight several hours early. I would not be having a repeat of the last time I tried to leave, or rather escape, Thailand. Eventually I flew out, bound for Los Angeles… flying over Tokyo. 18 or so hours later I arrived in one piece. My luggage was not so fortunate. On claiming my bags I discovered that Thai airways was kind enough to shatter the bottle of rum inside my bag, despite the warnings plastered all over it, and my careful packing. They have a habit of breaking things it would seem. Also, now I smelled like I just sacked a port in the Caribbean, which I was sure would not help me get through security any easier. I was right. United States Customs was not so subtle in their suggesting I may not be welcome in the country, along with all the other foreigners and immigrants, which it would seem I had been lumped together with. Not getting in was starting to sound like a treat by the end. The only reason I was in the country at all was because school was starting. First, I had to get there though. ....
After I had settled in LA, I needed to camp for the night until my next flight. Using a baggage cart I'd commandeered and many blankets Delta and Thai airways had unknowingly donated to me, I built a fort in the airport. I rolled out my sleeping bag and camped out. I'd made camp in worse places, that's for sure. The next day I set out for the security checkpoints. I'm not sure where they found the people that where working, but let's just say they weren't the cream of the crop. I hope. Baby huey and girl-shrek broke the zippers on my bags, while violently insisting that they knew what they were doing. Yeah, I knew what they were doing to…breaking my things. These are the people responsible for the safety and protection of U.S travel? That explains that. ....
I left LA and headed towards Colorado. I was greeted by flight changes and delays, and people cos-playing for some event they were heading to. From Colorado I went east, and finally ended up in the Midwest, where I was heading. ....
17 flights in 3 months. I think that will do. From now on, any extended venture I may be on will not involve planes…. Or at least airports. ....
I also wasn't able to change my money over to USD because the changer was closed when I got there. ....
School was getting ready to start, but before that, I had a mandatory "leadership" camp that I had to attend for school, held in Wisconsin. For a week. Being Nash however, stumbling into camp jet-lagged fresh from some adventure wouldn't have been enough. I returned in time to make sure the day before I left for camp I could run in the Warrior Dash.....
The Warrior Dash is a 3 mile obstacle course featuring such things as fire, barbed wire, and mud. Afterwards you get a beer and a fuzzy Viking helmet. They also have huge turkey legs. This was my kind of place. I even saw a few injuries. Some girl had a broken arm and heat stroke, and a guy broke his ankle.. at about mid-shin. I also had a slight boo-boo as a result of a short cut I took, almost.....
During the obstacle course there was a point at which everyone was wading through what appeared to be a river of poop. I didn't feel like going hip-deep in dooty, and I saw a path leading up the river bank. It was steep and slick with mud, but if I could pull it off I wouldn't have to go in the muck. I started up the slope, but it was too steep and slick to traverse. Luckily enough there where several rocks dug into the slime, so all I had to do was hop from rock to rock and work my way up the overhang. So I did. When I jumped to the highest point along the cliff, the rock I jumped onto gave out. My body was turned parallel to the ground in midair, but instead of falling 3 feet to the ground, I went over the side of the overhang on the bank, and plummeted down towards the river. I hit a large slab of rock on the ground, bounced into the air, and went into the river of poop; at which point my entire body became submerged in feces, and the resulting splash made a stream of it shoot into my mouth. Not what I had in mind, but usually the kind of thing that happens when I take a short cut.....
Also, the hit with the rock slab had bashed my left shin, and I thought I might have broken it because of all the blood and the way it felt. Good thing I smeared all the poop-mud on it.....
After the course we all "cleaned off" in a watering hole that smelled like diarrhea and was full of dead fish, garbage, duck poop, and human pee. At least the beer and turkey leg where good. I also didn't break my leg (probably), but I do now have a rather interesting set of scars that look exactly like I was swiped by a large cat, like a cougar.....
THAT'S how I show up for mandatory meetings. The next morning I got together with the friends I was riding to Wisconsin with. Everyone had an incredible amount of luggage, save for me of course. Everyone at camp, even the men, had several bags. This earned me the nickname "one-bag Nash". That's how I travel… and I still wound up over packing. When the four of us got in the vehicle to go to camp, we decided that I should have the first shift driving. Predictably when I got in the van, it wouldn't start, and one of the doors broke. It's not traveling with Nash unless things like that happen. I wasn't opposed to it though, as it meant putting off going to a place I didn't want to go. I had been calling it "camp no-fun" for some time, and a friend of mine described it as "military-bible camp". She said I might have trouble with it, due to my "distain for authority and rules". I didn't know what she meant, but I didn't like the description that was given to me:....
"Every morning you wake up to revelee at 7am. Breakfast is at 7:30. You are assigned an eating unit to eat with; you don't get to pick where or with whom you eat. Boys and girls cabins are at opposite ends of camp, and your cabin mates are assigned to you as well. During breakfast is cabin inspection. After breakfast until lunch you will do activities with your 'family' (unit). Your family is assigned to you, and you will leave none of them behind. Noon is lunch. Then 'free time' for a couple of hours and then back to activities, dinner, actives, and at 10pm you hear taps. That's bed time."....
On top of all that, we also had to study Victorian style eating etiquette. I did not abide. They were just lucky I didn't slam my dishes onto the floor to signal I wanted more. Instead, I spent my meals entertaining my eating mates with my stories upon request. I also spent nights by the campfire doing the same thing. Turn out these tales made me somewhat popular for passing the time in an entertaining way. There was a mandatory 'talent' show we had to do as well, and I more than a few people tell me I needed to get a television show. HELP ME GET ONE!....
Another interesting thing we had to do was the "formal dinner" we were forced to attend, using our learned etiquette and dressed in dress-up cloths…of which I own none. I just wore khaki pants and a hot-climate survival shirt. And converse. Everyone wondered why my pants where so wrinkly. The answer? I used my dress cloths to stuff my pillow case (and my pillow case was the compression sack for my sleeping bag). ....
The higher-ups where just as bad as the camp description. The gamut was run from a militant old man to an ambiguously effeminate spaz, and everything in-between.....
It wasn't all bad though. We got to challenge a high ropes course. In fact, my family got the high score! We were team high score! The biggest problem I had with the camp, ridiculous crap aside, was that it actually was very fun. I was so ready to have a bad time, but it was just fun. I made a bunch of new friends and contacts, and had an overall enjoyable experience. How dare they? It was predominantly a "leadership" camp though, and so we were evaluated on our leadership qualities and abilities and ranked. Even though I was ranked high and my family consistently overcame all obstacles there was some consistency in my anonymous reviews. Keep in mind, no one was to speak about what they were righting to anyone else, so that each review would be original and uninfluenced. Here are some excerpts from the "needs improvement in…" column from 4 of the 7 review I received:....
"Loses focus sometimes and gets distracted"....
"He has a tendency of getting sidetracked"....
"He sometimes gets distracted"....
"We spent a lot of time joking around"....
Hmm…. Strains coincidence. Can it still be called getting distracted when your group is the best? I would say I have a unique leadership style is all… or a unique living style… whatever works.....
With our week of camp over, we all headed back from whence we came. We arrived late Saturday, and school proper began on that following Monday. With that, the summer was over… but I had new plans forming… someone from camp had just told me of an opportunity on a ship for a few months that just happened to be going my way…....
Back to improvising my plans….
-Nash
