Flora-Bama
In 1989 I was just out of AOCS, starting flight school. Initially I was living in the BOQ until I got back together with X1 for the next to the last time. My bud, Mike had found an apartment on Perdido Key. An apartment came open so we moved there. Right on the beach.
No. I mean right on the beach as in open the sliding glass door, step onto a slab of concrete, two more steps and you were standing on the beach. I ran the beach every morning. Barefoot. That wasn’t too swift all things considered. The now me is a little pissed at the then me at his thinking that nothing he did would impact the now me’s hips.
I made it to the Flora-Bama about a dozen times. Back then it had more of a biker bar feel to it. And I was married. Marriage kinda puts a damper on twenty-something shenanigans.
You can’t undo life’s decisions, all you can do is make better decisions now. At least that is what I tell myself.
The litany of things I have done wrong in my life threatens to roll over the things I have done right. Truth is I did more right than wrong. But in the wee dark hours it is occasionally hard to remember that. I must have been Catholic in a previous life.
Go ahead and psychoanalyze THAT sentence.
I spent the day looking for a job, and catching up on last night’s TV shows.
I also perused the local flight school’s web site. Brainstormed how in the flying fuck I could make it happen without a job. If I ate nothing but tuna (Albacore of course) and walked to the base for requisite ground school and flight training. I could maybe squeeze out 4 hours a month. That is nowhere near what I would require for proficiency.
But.
If I used my car savings and dumped my remaining IRA I could get up to my requisite number of hours to get back my private license. Then theoretically I could continue to build hours to get a CFI. Then other people would pay for my flight time. Almost sounds like a plan.
As much of a plan as winning the lottery.
Tomorrow I’ll call the VA and see what is left of my GI bill. My estimate is around 10K. So I’ll take some more classes and burn that account down. Gets me another 600 bucks a month. Fucking Maine is getting me down.
Glen said his company, up in Bowdoinham, might hire someone who can work database issues. And the (married) HR director is a hottie. I’m closing in on asking him to hook me up. I can put on the suit and crank the charm dial to 11.
Because I am so fucking bored.
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