derrickI grew up in Southeast Texas on the Louisiana border. It was always hot wet and nasty. The smell of crude oil was thick in the air and we had acres of cockle burrs and cow paddies.


Alligators were a pain in the butt because you had to run them out of the barn of a morning just to milk the cows. When you tried to plant a garden they would come in at night and tear hell out of everything.


I had to get outta here in a hurry and live an adventure. When I was eighteen I couldn’t wait to get out of town! A recruiter fellow told me the straight scoop about living an adventure. So I joined the Air Force and went on one.

First there was boot camp where professional psychopaths try to kill your ass. Professional leaders help them do it by feeding you swill
from the nearest landfill. And they tell you “I am your Mother your Father and your girlfriend. Well let me tell you, none of those people ever treated me like a “puke” or “green gut” or “dog shit”!!

Then the good times rolled on.

I was sent to McDill AFB in the middle of a swamp. I survived that and was on my way to the real adventure. Somewhere just below Mt. McKinley, Alaska where there is a void in time and space where we learned Arctic survival! What the hell for I’ll never know but if I end up in Alaska
again I’m hunting a hotel.

All of that training to survive and now the adventure was really looking up. I should say looking down because the next thing you know I was in another airplane, well sort of, a bad ass helicopter for sure. A huge sergeant tells me to get out. I ask, “why the hell would I do that?” He shoved my stupid ass right out of the thing! At least I had a cable to hang onto. And we did this about 50 times, dammit man. Then they put us on a real airplane and that same sergeant says “Need any help this time?” I say “where the hell is the rope?” He helps me out again. I am pawing at the air hunting anything to hang onto.


After falling through a pound of my on crap for what seemed hours, the chute finally opened and so did my eyes. I was landing somewhere in a dense forest. After I got out of the damned trees,and hit the ground, on my back,I found I didn’t know where I was. This was supposed to be Georgia but I had my doubts because no one there spoke English. At least none like I had ever heard. Well they got us back to where we started from anyway.

Well now, the fun was just beginning they line us up at four in the morning and tell us to get on another plane. That was enough to tell
most people that this is not a good sign of things to come but I was still thinking “adventure”. That damned C141 must have flown for days because when I woke up I was in a real jungle with little bitty people wearing black pajamas shooting at my ass. What the hell kind of adventure do those recruiters have nightmares about? For 388 days my adventure was getting on a CH47 or Sikorsky Jolly Green Giant and flying through a hail of bullets and smoke and fire just to find some asshole that couldn’t fly his airplane. Of course some of them didn’t do to so bad at flying, just not so good at dodging anti-aircraft fire. So we would pick them up and haul them back to civilization and do it again the next day and so on. After 13 months of that little adventure.  I was finally going back to the good ole USA.


Only when I landed in San Francisco there were people wearing sheets and no hair who actually tried to spit on me and talked really ugly to me. Well all that adventure had soured my attitude a bit and most of them went away spitting through a mouth full of empty. And a few pop knots to boot. After the police finally let me out of jail I decided I really didn’t need an adventure. Alligators, cow shit, and nasty weather weren’t so bad and neither was cockleburrs. Swamps and crude oil were like perfume and alligators were my best new friends. I never wanted to plant another damned weed even if you could eat it. Even if you could smoke it! NO MORE WEEDS where little bitty people in black pajamas can hide and shoot at you.


I must say that when I drove up to my old home near Hildebrant Bayou I was damned glad to be there. But when I saw my mama standing on the front porch crying her eyes out I knew! Home ain’t so bad!!!! No matter how it smells, how hot and wet it is or how many varmints live there. And your dog and your mama are always glad to see you.

PS: I kept my old Jump Boots with the word “ADVENTURE” painted on them. And if I ever find out where they are hiding that recruiter fellow I am going to shove a little “ADVENTURE” up his backside. And my feet ain’t that small.


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