Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

It would probably be equally as easy to title this post, "What Goes Around, Comes Around," but I think "Open Mouth, Insert Foot" is just as appropriate.

I should have learned my lesson on this earlier this summer, and I kind of thought I did, but apparently that is not the case.

In order for this to make sense, let me take you back to mid-July 2005. It was a beautiful, perfect afternoon; perfect for the game of golf that is. A friend and I were enjoying the short, but challenging 9-hole Pebble Creek golf course in my hometown. It's a nice little Par 35. I started with a perfect drive, pushing it about 235 and dropping it right in the middle of the fairway. It was followed by a wedge shot that I pulled just left of the green where I landed it about 14 inches into the fringe and about 16 feet from the hole. I pulled out the old trusty 7-iron for a little chip and run, hoping to putt for par. I swung and the ball took a perfect flight, landing exactly where I wanted it to on the green. It rolled and played the break perfectly, ending in the hole for birdie. It was the start to the best round of golf I have ever played and for those of you who know me, you know I've played a lot in my day.

Now I know you are probably asking yourself where this story is going. What could this possible have to do with deploying to Afghanistan and sticking one's foot in their mouth? Be patient young jedi, you'll see in the end.

I parred the next hole and went on to the 3rd. The 3rd hole is a short par 4 at only 219 yards, but it's uphill about 80 yards. So, realistically you need to hit the drive of your life to plant it on the green in one. What you don't know yet is that we are following the slowest threesome I have ever seen on a course in my life. It is clear from the get-go that only one of these guys can even play golf at all and the other two seem to be completely incapable of picking up this game any time soon, like now. So the three of them are on the green putting...and putting...and still putting. I am growing impatient...and impatient...and impatient as I wait for them. I debated on whether or not to hit my tee shot. I'd be lying if said I didn't halfway intend to hit close to them so they could get the point that they were playing a little slow. By this time, the group behind us has now caught us on the teebox as well.

I decide to go for it, hoping to get the show on the road. Maybe they will get a clue and exercise a little golf courtesy and let us play through at the next hole. I tee it up and let it fly. Keep in mind that I have played this course many times and 99.9% of the time on this hole I hit the fairway and leave myself with a 50-65 yard wedge into the green. Not today. I could not have asked for a more perfect drive. The ball carried until about 15 yards off the front of the green. With my swing, I somehow can usually manage a little topspin on my drives which gives me a little extra distance at the end after the ball lands. Today, it was just enough to send the ball forward, onto the green and right through the group who was still putting.

Granted, I didn't yell "fore" as I should've. My bad. I think part of that was because it didn't go into them on the fly and part of it was just because I never thought it go that far. Needless to say, the "golfer" guy was not happy and he waited for us to get to the green. Once there, he proceeded to yell at me about golf courtesy and how I could've killed one of them and so on. I apologized, said I never thought it would go that far and then brushed him off and played my next shot halfway ignoring him. Part of me was also thinking, "you know, if you knew anything about golf, you should've greeted me with a 'hey, that was a helluva drive' before yelling at me for hitting into your super slow group."

Anyway, we backed off and I finished the round with a 37 which is the best round I've ever shot in my life.

About a month later I was playing a course with some fellow law classmates at the university course when I was standing next to the teebox on the 4th hole. I turned slightly to the right and was pelted center-mass, right square in the sternum, with a ball hit from about 150 yards out. It caught me on the fly and honestly, it made me cry it hurt so badly. I thought somebody shot me. I was so mad. There was no "fore!" yelled, there was no warning whatsoever. It scared the crap out of me. So I picked up the ball and proceeded to yell at this guy that hit it. The closer I got to him, the younger he became. By the time I got to him, he was all of about 14 years old. He apologized and said he lost his ball in the sun and I yelled at him about golf courtesy and how he could've killed one of us and how, if his ball had been ten inches higher, it would've caught me square in the face and then I would've been really upset. He apologized again and I went back to my game, still completely pissed about the whole deal.

And then it hit me, ha ha ha, what goes around comes around. I guess I probably had that one coming after so arrogantly hitting into the group in front of me not even a month prior. Life is funny like that I guess and you would probably think that would've taught me a lesson. I thought it did, but then, life did it to me again.

Finally! We're getting to the point. Open mouth, insert foot.

No sooner did I spend time standing on my homemade soapbox in my last post ranting and raving about anti-war people and blah blah blah, than I was met with random acts of kindness and thanks from complete strangers for serving in the military.

My training required me to travel to Las Vegas, NV for a security school with Air Force and it was on this trip that I realized maybe there are still some thankful people out there in this country we call America. Now I don't know what it is about military people, but when they travel, you can pick them out in a heartbeat. No matter how hard they try to look like random civilians, they just cannot pull it off. It's nearly impossible. Either their giant special-forces-looking backpack gives them away, or the chain around their neck from the dogtags, or they inevitably will be carrying some sort of military reading material (i.e. a copy of Black Hawk Down or We Were Soldiers Once and Young). Another dead giveaway is the fact that they usually have to travel to schools in groups and since none of them dress the same way in civilian clothes, because they aren't friends out of uniform, they look like the oddest group of people in the airport.

So there I was with my group of four "friends" in the airport, carrying my black backpack with my army nametape on it and reading a copy of "My War: Killing Time in Iraq" by Colby Buzzell (HINT HINT - This book is a must read for anyone interested in soldier stories). The lady I sat by on the first flight told me all about her Army experience when she was younger and how she appreciates our service so much. She thanked us all for our sacrifices and wished us the best of luck on our upcoming mission/deployment. It was nice.

On the second flight, I sat among a group of gentlemen from the island of Malta. Man, they had beautiful Italian accents not to mention Italian looks as well. I digress. Anyway, the man next me also recognized us as military and offered us his best wishes on our training and deployment. I thought that was very nice.

After we got our luggage, we boarded the little bus to get the rental cars. We sat by a mother and a daughter who also pegged us as military and asked us all sorts of questions about deploying and how our families deal with it as well. They were so appreciative of our service it was almost embarrassing and I couldn't wait for the bus ride to end.

We got the rental cars and traveled to McDonald's on Las Vegas Blvd for some lunch. While the five of us were sitting there enjoying our overly expensive and overly unhealthy lunches, a man in a suit and tie stopped by our table to ask if we were military. He looked like a professional chauffeur or something along those lines. Anyway, we told him we were military and he asked if we had been "over there" yet. We explained that we were in Las Vegas for training in preparation of going "over there" so we hadn't been there yet, but soon enough we would be. He pulled a roll of cash out of his pocket. He proceeded to peel a $20 bill off the roll and dropped it on the table in front of us all and then he said some of the most appreciative words I have ever heard from a complete stranger.

"I would like you to all have a drink on me tonight. You take this money and enjoy a good time. Have a drink on me. You deserve it for all that you do for our country and for us. The people of this country do not deserve people like you who fight for our freedom. Enjoy your night and thank you for all that you do for us."

Wow. That man, that total stranger, made my day more complete than anyone ever could have at that moment. He brought tears to my eyes. Most people cannot even tell the ones they love how much they truly appreciate them and for him to be so honest with a group of perfect strangers, it made my day. It made the day for all of us.

Lesson learned. Even though there seems to be anti-war voices everywhere you turn in this country, they are few but they are loud. There might actually be a majority out there that honestly supports us in what we are doing and although they may be quiet at times, they know when their voices need to be heard and they don't talk just to hear themselves speak. They are strong and powerful and they know when to say the right things, the things that make a difference in a soldier's life and the things that make us remember why we joined this military service in the first place.

It is to those people that I say, "thank you." I am honored to serve your country, fight for your rights and defend your freedom.