Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The Ambulance Chronicles
:: Welcome to My Life. Just look around, read some stuff, or laugh in mockery at me.
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[::Get to know me::]
::I'm an EMT, and I work on an ambulance. I'm aspiring to be a paramedic someday, but I might go for the MD also.
::Anne is my silly goose and we have been married for four and a half years. Time flies when you fight wars.
::God is so amazing. He's done so much in my life lately. Just read to the right.
::I am a former driver's ed student and I'm probably that kid that your family talks about almost hitting them.
[::My weather::]
[::Listening to::]
::my IPOD
[::My favorite sites::]
::Annikin's online journal
::SGT Dub's blog
::Task Force Warrior
::Get addicted
::How Stuff Works
::Christian guitar
::Christian happenings
[::..Feeling nostalgic?..::]
[::My contact info::]
::My email
Email Me!!!

:: Saturday, March 08, 2008 ::

What the hail?

I thought gay guys were supposed to have a sense of fashion. I thought chinese people were masters at sudoku. I thought rich people didn't steal. I thought oriental people spoke orientese to each other. I thought British people were lame.

So far this is an interesting train ride.

One gay guy doesn't have any since of fashion or what decade he lives in. One chinese guy was stumped on a sudoku I solved in my head. Some lady munched away on grapes like a heffer grazing in the pasture (they have to be weighed. The manager said "we consider it part of the shopping experience"). There were four oriental guys just speaking english better to each other than ya'll do at home (you like that?). One British woman to another, "sometimes you just have to get naked and dive in deep."

No lie.

Work today sucked as I suspected. It went by at its regular pace of slower than molasses on a cold day. I didn't have too many problems except for the heffer and the response from my manager. Its things like that which make me want to punch somebody. I almost had a chance.

One hombre saw me sitting down while he was leaving (I'm the last person to leave, an hour and a half after everyone else) and he proceeded to comment on the situation. "At least you get to sit down, bro. Everyone else has to stand."

My thoughts (which stayed thoughts) were, "At least I can break your arm and make you bleed if you move one more step closer to me." (It had to be one more step so I wouldn't have to stand.) Maybe my tolerance for stupid people and my ability to control anger haven't grown as much as I had hoped. I haven't yelled at any McDonald's people for not having ice cream though.

The nightmares have passed from me at least. I just have random flashbacks of driving through Kabul or feeling the crush of the explosion that destroyed our gate. Living in constant fear isn't the best thing for a 21 year old person to do, and I wasn't even in the worse of it. That's why I feel guilty I suppose. I never got hit by an IED or knocked over from the blast of a mortar (as the major valiantly did why trying to save several Afghans and thus decided himself that he should receive a silver star. Sorry, just had to throw that in there.)

I guess it's also a feeling of "I didn't do enough." People thank me but I didn't take a bullet or storm a hill. The battles our others veterans fought were much more worthy of honor. All we do now is drive around and wait for a bomb to blow up (which, might I add again, several Oregon soldiers proceeded to do intentionally so they could get their combat badge. That actually ruined it for me completely.)

Yeah, I sat through a rocket attack and held a machine gun at the wall while a car full of dynomite destroyed our gate and drove down several IED lanes without knowing it (thanks SSG Tiffie), but I just feel like I could have done more. I appreciate the thanks and gratitude I get from everyone because I have done something 95 percent of America never will. I still stand proud when the National Anthem is played and shed a tear when I hear of another fallen brother (or sister).

I'm not sure what I'm trying to say. This is just things I think about while I watch the heffers and the horses (those who drink while shopping). I just need my Ann back. My sweet love. I miss talking to her. The poopfaces never listen. They can't hear me over Scouts snoring. I guess I'll just hold it all in again until Ann comes home.

Yes, mom, I know I can talk to you anytime and I do. I still miss my wife.

As Carl put it: "This too shall pass."

God is good. All the time.

P.s. This post brought to you on the downtown 6 and Brooklyn / Coney Island Q trains of the ever infamous New York City MTA subway system.

:: Ben 10:48 PM [+] ::
the term "oriental" is for objects. for people, the term is "asian". c'mon, you're living in the melting pot, get the terms right. miss you.

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