- Post Type: Backblast
- When: 04/05/2022
- AO: Midoriyama
- QIC: Oompa Loompa (R)
- PAX: Slaw, Gumby.
It’s Monday. I’m down. Natty game on tv tonight. Luckily I am up north doing a pre-startup electrical/mechanical checkout on a new Reese’s cup line.
Know what gets me down? Tarheel basketball.
Not the team itself. Just their fans. The obnoxious ones. The trash talkers. The ones who when you say Franklin they think of Blvd. Who think they wear a jersey and sit on the team bench. Who think when they die, they will go to blue heaven and hang out with Dean Smith.
(I hear Montross saying that GTHC derogatory phrase right now.)
Now I do feel bad for the good Tarheels. Non obnoxious ones. They do exist. The one’s who dropped big bucks to graduate from there. My F3 bros like JJ & Rudolph. Who love the team but have humility in them.
Know what gets me up? Obnoxious Tarheel basketball fans being shut up!
This has nothing to do with the backblast. Just venting.
It’s Tuesday. The day after the biggest chock job in the Finals. Its fricking pouring buckets at Charlotte Douglas Airport. Water over the curbs in Long Term 2. Feet soaked. Luggage soaked. YHC soaked.
Idiots on I85. Shocking.
Finally get to Midoriyama.
Still pouring rain 🌧 like Tarheel tears last night. See the site Q vehicle parked. Yes! At least someone has a set besides tonight’s Q.
Good conversation while waiting for 1730.
Decided to start a few seconds early. Thought with the rain pissing down if you ain’t here by now, you’re not going to be here.
Start mosey to big soccer field. Not a hundred yards in a truck pulls in to the parking lot flashing lights and blowing the horn. It’s Gumby! Circle back and pick him up. Keep moseying at a chatting pace.
Long way around big soccer fields, back past flag, around the corner to playground by pump track, down hill to pond.
Hang left at volleyball court, back up to front gate. Frogger across road, around and back to flag.
Mutiple rounds of: Wall squats. Dips. Calf raises. Squats. Lunges. Inclines. LBCs. Merkins. Pretzel crunch. Flutters. Moroccan Night Clubs. 22 of each all in cadence.
Prayer requests. Huck. Leppard’s wife. Gumby. Broke. Big Pappy. Swimmer. Others spoken and unspoken.
Nice to have a smaller crowd tonight. You can fellowship while still working out, rather than just struggle to keep up with the batflippers.
On my flight back home, I sat with a fellow veteran my age who was returning from one of his F division mates from the USS Coontz wife’s funeral.
A group of eight met in bootcamp, went both halves of A school, sea school and the same division on ship. 45+ years of history. Wives all were friends too. Seven were still married to first wife.
Lots of sea stories shared between the two of us.
If you have a bond like that with college roomies, frat bros, shipmates, cousins, work, F3 dudes, whatever, give them a call and check up on each other.
YHC prayed us out.
Oh yeah, as usual, the rain stopped as soon as the colors were furled.
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