Time has come to a standstill

I just finished working my shift at the local library, my last shift before I leave for Orlando tomorrow. It was only 5 hours long, but felt like 50. Now, it's late afternoon, my flight doesn't leave for another 22 1/2 hours, and I have a slight case of the stir-crazies.. 
 
I've experienced this before, and I'll bet you have, too. It's the "Picked up my leave papers, but can't leave yet" syndrome.

It was bad enough if you were driving. You'd finished your last gig, you had your leave papers and you had a full tank of gas, but leave didn't technically begin until midnight. You had three choices:

1. Wait.
2. Split early and count on not getting caught.
3. Get hammered.

 At various times over the years, I employed all three. Once, I combined #s 2 and 3 on a five hour drive from Little Creek to New York that took 14 hours because I fell asleep in the rest area on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge/Tunnel. 

 But it was worse when you were flying. Your duties were wrapped up, you had your leave papers and you had your plane tickets, so, #2 above, "Split early and count on not getting caught" was not an option. You were stuck with:

1. Wait.
2. Get hammered.

Number one could be employed alone or in conjunction with #2, my usual modus operandi. I no longer practice #2, however, so I'm stuck with #1.

Okay, that killed ten minutes. What do I do now?

The Daily Poop - Sat., 23JUN12

So, I finally heard back from Lee Hudson about his NMA reunion plans. He just got back from performing a whirlwind tour of Europe. (Seems to me that a tour with Hudson shouldn't be described with the word "whirlwind"; more like "miasma" or "fetid.")

Anyway, Lee is busy wrapping up some college duties, preparing for others. The bottom line on whether or not he'll come: maybe.

Just what I need. I could deal with a "yes"--I'd mentally hope for the best and expect the worst. I could deal with a "no"--I'd sing a chorus of "Happy Days are Here Again" and order a truckload of Champagne to be delivered to the Orlando Doubletree Universal next Wednesday.
Instead, I get a "maybe." Reminds me of the old joke:

Question: How do you keep a turkey in suspense?
Answer:    

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Tomorrow, I leave for Orlando. I hope. I'm a nervous traveler, so any hint of weather-related flight delays ramps up my worry-level. There's a chance of showers and thunderstorms tomorrow, so who knows? I just want to wake up on Monday in Orlando

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Speaking of which, what do you call sunrise in the the fanciest part of that city?

"Tony Orlando at Dawn."

Thank you. Have a nice day.

The Daily Poop - Fri., 22JUN12

Yesterday, NMA member Dave Czohara of The Villages, FL, informed me that a reporter from the Orlando Sentinel has been reading this blog and wanted to talk to me about the NMA reunion. We set up a phone interview, and I spoke with her.
I've always been such a disappointment to women. After a few minutes it became obvious she'd been expecting me to be a middle-aged raconteur who spewed punchlines faster than she could write them down instead of a befuddled sixty-three year old codger who can barely make it to the bathroom before having an accident. Shipmates in the Orlando area, keep an eye out for Christine Cole's story in the Sentinel about the reunion. If it stinks, complain to Czohara. If its good: thank you.

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I am sorry to hear that Tom Wholley won't be in attendance this year. Tom and I crossed paths a number of times, in Newport, Little Creek and the Seventh Fleet as well as at our annual get-togethers.

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I still haven't heard whether Lee Hudson is planning to light up my life by showing up in Orlando. I figured slandering him across the internet would flush him out, but no. Guess I'll have to actually contact him. Sheesh.

My annual 30 seconds of serious reflection

I drag this one out of mothballs every spring because it still fits.
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I found sea duty difficult.

As the band's chief, I was the referee of a Texas cage match among sixteen professional wrestlers.

I was the marriage counselor for the sax player who got the bad letter from his wife.

I was trip planner who had to beg a surly coxswain for the admiral's barge so the band would be ashore in time for the concert.

I was the guy who sucked up to the laundry petty officer so the trio would have clean whites for the captain's reception.

I was the whipping boy for the MCPOC who hated the band and would have reamed out my boys if I didn't let him unleash his temper on me.

I was nursemaid, babysitter, tour director and music theory teacher.

Sometimes I was even the chaplain, the shepherd who brought comfort to the desolate.

And when I got the call in the Indian Ocean that my father was dying, my boys brought the same to me.

At times, I wanted to crawl into the nearest empty locker and hold my breath until the cruise was over.

And there were times I felt sorry for everyone in the world who was not, at that very moment, on a ship of the United States Navy in the Indian Ocean conducting this ragtag, 16-piece bagband through "Anchors Aweigh" during unreps.

Most people, despite their love of country and their respect for our service, cannot understand this.

You, my shipmates, understand.

See you next week in Orlando.
.

The Daily Poop - Thurs., 21JUN12

Of the many things I enjoy about the NMA reunions, the anticipation is the hardest to deal with and, yet, the most enjoyable. During this final week of preparation, I'm like a kid waiting for Christmas. I generally arrive a few days early, and look forward to meeting other early birds as they arrive. Even after the reunion is underway, members continue to arrive for days, and the scuttlebutt flies around the hotel ("Is Charlie here yet?" "No, but I heard Bill just got in." "Where the hell is Tom? He was supposed to fly in today"). 

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Packing for my flight to Orlando for the NMA reunion is involving some serious triage. This is not Ship's Open House to which the general is invited; it's six men in a four-man life raft, and all inessentials get tossed overboard.

It's not until next week, you say--why start packing now? Well, I'm determined to bring carry-on baggage only. I'll be in Orlando for eight days--that's a lotta skivvies--and I'm bringing a new camera with its assortment of plugs, cords and Japanese instructions. Every square inch of suitcase and computer case must be used to its best advantage, so I'm engaged in luggage sea trials. 

Fortunately, I was road-trained by the Navy Music Program. I have washed socks and skivvies in hotels and motels throughout the continental U.S. I've traveled the Orient and two oceans with an office packed into a seabag. I can make this work.

Nevertheless, bringing the minimum of clothing means my appearance may not always be up the high standards for which I have been known both on active duty ("...wears his uniform with unmistakable pride") and as a member of the NMA ("Damn, Frank looks good...how does he do it?)

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Checking the airlines baggage restrictions (I'm flying Delta and a couple of its subcontracted puddle-jumping Junior Airlines), I note that restrictions on carrying musical instruments aboard have been simplified. Last time I checked, there were incomprehensible limits on an instrument case's length, width, height, circumference, date of birth and . Their all gone now. Basically, you can take an instrument aboard for free as your single piece of carry-on luggage, as long as it fits in the overhead compartment or under the seat. This seems to mean that you could do an entire tour without the inconvenience of checking in any baggage, as long as you don't mind wearing the same ratty clothing every day.  

A special reunion treat

Frank's 2010 treat for his shipmates.

You may recall that, a couple of years ago, in anticipation of the NMA reunion, I dieted and exercised my weight down to my former E-7 level and put my old uniform as proof:

I did this, of course, for you, to motivate you, to show you that all things can be accomplished with good old Navy perseverance.

Frank's enhanced 2012 treat.

Well, shipmates, you were all so grateful for my concern for your welfare that I've done it again. More, actually.

During May and early June, I again slimmed down to my CPO weight. This time, however, because my devotion to your happiness is unceasing, I pursued my weight loss two additional pay grades. I will attend the reunion next week at my E-5 weight.

I know this makes you very happy, but you don't have to thank me. Your grumbling and under-the-breath commentary is all the thanks I need.