Best Three

As the plane slammed down on the tarmac in Albuquerque, I came to the swift realization there would be a significant shift in my existence. I was in the largest “metropolis” in New Mexico and the sense of a hustling and bustling city was absent. It was beautifully desolate outside of the airport. I took a long pull of my cigarette as I became enamored with constant pinkish hue the horizon had from crimson clay dirt. I hadn’t seen these colors in Japan, my home for the last six years. “My home country is foreign,” is all I thought as solitude and doubt tore at my soul.

My final leg of this geographic demotion was carried out by a prop place cannibalized from the pieces of Buddy Holly’s final flight. The lead pilot informed the passengers, four other individuals and myself, that it was the co-pilots' first flight. Two of the males on the flight had hairstyles that were in regulations with military standards. They were unfazed by this announcement. As was the middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair whose legs barely were able to squeeze in between the seats due to their significantly above average length. This last leg only lasted a little over an hour. I fell asleep hoping that I would wake back in Japan. This isn’t my home.

I arrived into Clovis, New Mexico in the early evening. My sponsor, the person in charge of helping me settle, did not know my number and I was unable to remember his. My new Droid 2 was dead and I had no connectivity to the outside world. As I surveyed the flat, dry land, I noticed there was nothing. The sun was barely out and I could not make anything resembling city lights. “Where is my ride?” I said aloud as I lit a cigarette and waited. Finally, an early 90s Chevy Corsica pulls up.

“Hey, you Moses?” said the young, baby-faced gentleman in the car.

“Yeah, you my sponsor?” I replied as I flicked the cigarette and entered the vehicle.

“Clark,” he extended his hand out.

“Moses,” I replied as I shook his hand.

Clark, my sponsor, was half-Filipino/half-caucasian, average height and super skinny. He picked me up in a Buick from the mid-90s and it felt like the vehicle should have been left there. He gave me the rundown of the area as we drove through a town that looked more a stop than a place to live. Clark let me know there wasn’t much to do and that the base itself wasn’t that great. This was not news to me. We spoke about our shared enjoyment of video games and anime. He had been there for about a year or so when I arrived. Probably a little less. Clark and I were both from California and he told me how he’d love to get stationed out there at some point to be closer to his family. Clark would never leave Cannon Air Force Base in his Air Force career.

Once Clark dropped me off at my room, I was finally able to relax. I turned on the television and watched in wonder the nuances of American entertainment. It had been six years since I watched an English language commercial and I loved every single one of them! Where were these the last time I lived in the States? As I digested the sounds and colors of pop culture, I enjoyed a beer with my feet perched on the coffee table. It was then that I heard a small noise and saw a cat run across the living room. Was I that tired? Has it been that long since I had a drink? I called the front desk and informed them of the event. They notified me the previous tenants were pet owners but had a dog. This made no sense. Perplexed, I waited for the base’s animal services to come and remove the feral beast from this room I shouldn’t even be in. When they arrived, the two Airmen had a cage, gloves, and all the equipment one would expect from animal services.

I pointed them towards the bedroom where the beast was now residing. Both Airmen walked towards the bedroom and immediately a commotion was heard. Garfield’s rabid cousin shot out of the hallway into the living room where I was waiting for my heroes to come out with a tamed monster. The cat ran up the curtains near the entrance and one of the Airman came in pursuit with the Catch-All. This god amongst men was able to secure the vile creature without any further hassle. He placed the freshly caught prey in the cage which was held by the other, lesser Airman. I thanked them for their help and service.

As I walked into the office of my new work center, I noticed all of the Airmen were significantly younger than myself other than maybe a couple. There was Mendoza, Schmidt, Crawford, Clark, Leonard, and Foster. Mendoza was the only female. She was also the most athletic. Her physical training score was way higher than mine and I was in best shape I had ever been up until that point. Mendoza always was working towards a degree and studying for promotion. She charged harder than anyone else in the office when it came to furthering her education and pay grade. I have always commended her for that.

Foster, a slightly overweight African-American from North Carolina, was the first to reach out. “You smoke?”

“Yeah, you wanna burn one?” I asked, craving that morning nicotine and still guarded towards my new environment.

“Sure.”

Foster and I exchanged our stories. Him and I both coming from military families was one of many similarities he and I had. He had completed college prior to enlisting and had a Bachelor’s degree in English.

“How old are you?” he asked as we sat in that smoke pit which would later become MY smoke pit.

“28”

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, “What the fuck did you do?!”

I preceded to tell him about my many adventures and their consequences in the Far East. He felt comfortable telling me he had failed his Career Development Course which is the final step of your initial Air Force training. I always found it odd that he’d be able to complete a four-year degree and not a course that he was clearly able to pass based on his work performance. He wasn’t a world beater by any means but he was always competent and willing to learn.

He and I finished our cancer sticks and headed back in. Upon entering, I noticed a clay statue with amazing detail. It was about the height of an Easter Egg. When I leaned in to admire the work and was pleasantly surprised it resemble a wizard from a Ralph Bakshi film. I immediately asked, “Who made this? It’s fuckin’ awesome!”

“I did,” said this skinny kid with blonde hair and blue eyes. His thick-framed glasses, which later were discarded after Lasik, made him look like the typical communications geek that all the maintainers would rib me for. He also slightly resembled a Caulkin. Not during the heroin years though.

“Dude, this really great. You have any other work?” I asked, hoping to create a creative bond between him and me.

“Yeah, but it’s not here. I left it at home.” Schmidt replied.

“Aw. That blows. You should bring some in. I’d love to see it.”

Schmidt wouldn’t show me his work until quite a bit after that initial meeting. Schmidt was reserved. I learned this was not always the case as long as alcohol was placed in the mix.

They were joking and laughing while checking their respective emails and tasks for the day. A Technical Sergeant, my supervisor, came in and notified the group of us about the morning meeting. I still don’t remember his name. That’s the amount of an impression that he left on me. The meeting was uneventful and none of it gave me a better understanding of my co-workers. This is my new work center. I don’t know these people all that well.

As fall grew colder, my relationship with my co-workers grew warmer.

“Ayo, pop pop. You got any buttah for these biscuits?” Crawford asked in a thick New England accent that could make you smell chowdah.

“Nah, man. Just put some cocoa butter on it. Just the same,” I replied with a straight face.

“Are you serious?” he questioned as I motioned towards the Jergens sitting on the DVD tower.

“NO!”

He bent over his muscular frame and rebutted, “That would be that blackest thing you could ever do!”

Exchanges like that always happened between Crawford and I. Didn’t matter where we were or what we were doing, we were always trying to make each other laugh. Many nights, after our respective workouts, we’d meet up for dinner and KFC wasn’t beneath us. We’d share laughs over biscuits and beers. Being as obnoxious as we wanted whenever we wanted, really.

The third piece of our unholy trinity was Leonard. He was from Massachusetts just like Crawford.

“Dude, have you had rooster sauce on your chicken sandwich?” I asked as I bit down in our typical Sunday morning breakfast of Wendy’s at two in the afternoon.

“No, is it good?” he asked with a slight Masshole accent.

“No, Josh. I’m just telling you to put something on your sandwich that I am not enjoying. Taste the poop! Does this poop taste poopy?!” I snapped back.

Josh and I had an almost polar opposite relationship though. It wasn’t toxic. It was just a game of him trying to piss me off to get a funny reply out of me.

“Hey, what would you do if I squirted this in your eye?” Leonard said, waving the bottle sriracha.

I didn’t break from watching television and my chicken sandwich to reply, “I’d beat your ass… for a while. I’d take a water break.”

Crawford paused from his sandwich and the room fell silent. I looked over at Leonard. We locked eyes and immediately began laughing. We still use that phrase to this day.

I would go on to deploy to Iraq a couple months after arriving in New Mexico. I didn’t want to break my lease because housing was scarce when I arrived so I asked Leonard and Crawford to house sit and they agreed. My house was in better shape when I came home then when I left.

A couple months after returning from Iraq, I woke up early one Sunday morning. There was nothing wrong. Just an early bird that morning. While playing online video games with my friends back in Japan, I received a call.

“Hey, man. I know you said if I needed anything or needed talk, I should call.”

“Yeah, what’s up? You wanna come by?” I asked.

“Yeah.” His voice was tired. I could tell that he’d been up for a bit.

Greene arrived at my house within 15 minutes of hanging up. Beer in hand.

“Come on in, man,” I said as I held the front door open.

Greene was short and hairy. He’d get 5 o’clock shadow at 9:00 AM. The bags under his eyes were prominent this morning.

“I had to get out of the house,” he said with relief.

“I get that.”

Greene had just returned early from a deployment that I originally wanted. It was a new mission and the spot he took was actually quite sought after within the shop. His girlfriend at the time was a handful. She’d call him while he was out there almost every day complaining, threatening, and everything else that could possibly make a man want to leave the cushy gig he had. He requested to come back early and did. Upon his return, he was greeted by an angry girlfriend. Waiting. Stewing. It took all of a week for him to reach out to me looking for some sanctuary.

After a couple morning beers and cigarettes, we played video games and had breakfast. Omelettes. He went on a pretty lengthy rant about his relationship, goals, family, and everything else that was bothering him. I didn’t need to say much. Not even offering advice, just listening. He appreciated the audience and knew that regardless of how shitty it got at home, he could always come to me with his grievances. My New Mexico family has grown.

It was 11:00 PM. I was taking sleeping pills because I have never been able to easily fall asleep and I was working out in the evenings. My phone was in silent mode because I wanted to get a good night’s rest and had just gotten back from Germany. My mission there was to set up a communications link for future use. I didn’t think an embassy would be bombed that night.

“Hello.” How did I know the phone was ringing?

“Yeah, this is LT. I need you to come in.”

“Am I in trouble?” I asked in confusion.

“No, just… I’ll explain when you get here. You don’t need your uniform, yet.”

“Yes, sir. See you in a bit.”

Greene was arriving at our complex at the same time as me. We were briefed and I was volunteered to go first, solo. I asked Greene to take care of my house, which he did. He made sure that the only thing I would have to worry about was the mission. It was also during this final mission that I was notified that I was changing career fields and would be leaving New Mexico in the coming months. I knew I just wanted to get back to my family and friends.

The mission was stressful but not bad. I got out there with the equipment I hadn’t used and was certified on. I needed to get the antenna connected to the satellite and needed some updated system configurations to do so. You need internet access to complete this. I was so fucked at this point that I couldn’t help but to laugh. I decided to walk around the base that we were completing our operations out of. I was told by one of the maintainers that there were other units here for the same mission. Luckily, I was able to find someone I had training with prior and was able to get access, download the configurations, and get the antenna up and running. The communications link was connected and the unit I was sent with was able to get their flight out without breaking any deadlines.

I was gone for over 30 days before I returned from my mission. When I came home, I was immediately given some time off to recover from the back to back missions. Everyone was so happy that I came home, we celebrated. Excessively. My 30th birthday was a month after my return and since I was leaving soon after my birthday, we had birthday weekend in Albuquerque. Several friends came to include Leonard, Crawford, Greene, Schmidt, and Foster. Most of us don’t remember most of that weekend. We all came home safely. I think that mattered most.

January of 2013, I left for training in my new career field and would not return to New Mexico until my training was completed in May of that same year.

I completed the training and came back to pack up my things and out-process the base. It had been five months since I last stepped in New Mexico and things have clearly moved on. There are too many new faces in the shop and the old ones are gone or working elsewhere on base.

“Wait, so you used to work here but don’t now?” one nameless, faceless uniform asked.

“Yeah, I cross-trained. I’m Space Systems now and no longer RF like you.” I informed the young airman.

“That’s a cool job and you get to leave New Mexico!”

I didn’t even look at the airman when I replied, “It’s cool that I have a new opportunity but I’m leaving my home now. This has been the best three years of my military career and I have fortunate enough to recognize it as it was happening. Your experience here is what you make it and I had the fucking time of my life!”