The Anti-Aircraft Granny

Recently I had the unfortunate luck to be in the New Haven, Connecticut airport waiting for a delayed flight to Philadelphia. Anyone who has ever taken a flight knows to NEVER go through Philly. It is, without a doubt, the worst airport in the US and is in close running for the worst in the world. I digress.


On this particular trip I was sitting in the tiny waiting area enjoying the 98 degree heat since the AC was either broken or non-existent. Happily consumed with my own anger and bitching at the current situation I barely noticed a woman politely inquiring if she was “allowed to sit here” in a lovely British accent. “Of course”, I replied with a smile and moved my laptop bag.



Abigail appeared, at first glance, to be about 129 years old with a cane and a slightly slumped posture which extenuated her advanced age. My own bias labeled her as old and frail and I am embarrassed to say I had to grumble as I imagined having to make idle conversation with her. However, after only a few minutes of polite questions and answers my initial perception was completely obliterated and I found myself feeling guilty and amazed as I talked to someone who may very well be the most interesting person in the world!



Abigail had a way of speaking that was so descriptive and engaging that I found myself actually experiencing and living the stories of her life, and what a life it is!



The conversation started normal enough. Simply pleasantries, the exchanging of names and the obligatory “what brings you here”. She was in Connecticut visiting her friends at the old folks home in Danbury. All of her surviving friends were in such degraded health that they could no longer come and visit her, so every year she makes the trip from her home in the UK to CT. This sparked a conversation about the fact she is a vegetarian and how difficult it is to be a vegetarian in the US. I offered some insight since I attempted a vegetarian diet for a very brief and failed period.



Over the next hour we discussed everything from travel, to politics, to her childhood and life in general.

As you all know, I am proud Military vet and patriotic almost to a fault. As a result, I usually do a bit of prodding when I initially meet someone to try and discover where they stand in these areas so I can avoid a heated argument seeing how I can’t mince words with people who are ignorant or mistaken enough to disagree with me lol. When I reveled my life as an Air Force Brat and subsequent Naval Career Abigail lit up and began to discuss her own time in the military during World War II. She volunteered for duty at the age of 17, because if you waited until you were 18 the empire would decide what you do for service which typically meant factory work and Abigail found factory work boring and tedious. I am, again, embarrassed to admit that I assumed that Abigail was a nurse during the war, but she started to describe her role as an anti-aircraft gunner on a tributary of Thames! She spoke excitedly with a recollection and clarity that made me feel as if I was there! She spoke proudly of her position as gunner and held her hands in the air as if she gripping the cannon controls and trigger as she talked about the nightly Nazi raids and the important role her squad played to prevent the Nazi air attacks from reaching the city, mimicking the recoil and tension as she looked steely eyed into the past.

We talked about how there used to be so much more respect and appreciation for the Military and how she was able to hitchhike every weekend, never having to wait for more than a couple of minutes if she was in uniform because every car would stop for you. It didn’t matter if it was a Rolls Royce or a “Lorrie” they would stop and take you as far as they could and I could see her as a beautiful 18 year old woman in her sharp British uniform as she described the care and pride she took in wearing the uniform. She described how her and her sister would play and swim in the same tributary she defended as little kids without ever noticing the constant cold of the Thames and I could see her as a child gleefully running, climbing and swimming without worry or care. She stared in the distance like a warrior as she talked about her successful and unsuccessful kills.

We shared our feelings on raising children, personal responsibility, the state of world, the economy and even Obama. She relayed how happy she was to be going home just in time for the Opera Festival which she admitted was her only vice. “The tickets are 14 pounds (about $28) which I can’t really afford, but it is my only vice” she told me with a naughty gleam in her eye and I could see her enjoying the music in the park all day and the Opera house in the evening. We discussed the deep bounds and camaraderie that you only find in the military and she was honestly happy as she talked about all the amazing places her friends had been sent on duty.

That conversation was an epiphany. A life altering event that completely changed the way I look at the world and little old ladies. Even now I smile as I recall that day. I am so very appreciative to have met such a fascinating person. Abigail will never know the impact she had on me, but at least you do!

What if they are all right???

I just had a panic attack thinking about dying and what if everyone is right? God will not be happy when he finds my 80,000 servants and 72 wives, under a dome decorated with pearls, aquamarine, and ruby! What am I even going to do with that many wives, especially as an ugly alien Thetan? Not to mention the look I’m going to get from The Hindu Sacred Cow and Monkey God. It’s not my fault burgers are delicious! Of course all of this assumes I even get in to Valhalla since I did not die with honor in battle and I seriously doubt I will have any money for the river Styx. My Karma ran over my Dogma a long time ago so there’s really no hope people, what am I going to do? Maybe next time I’ll get reincarnated as a platypus, they have it easy. Have you ever seen a stressed out platypus?

Dear President Obama

Dear President Obama,

My name is Harold Estes, approaching 95 on December 13 of this year. People meeting me for the first time don't believe my age because I remain wrinkle free and pretty much mentally alert.

I enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1934 and served proudly before, during and after WW II retiring as a Master Chief Bos'n Mate. Now I live in a "rest home" located on the western end of Pearl Harbor , allowing me to keep alive the memories of 23 years of service to my country.

One of the benefits of my age, perhaps the only one, is to speak my mind, blunt and direct even to the head man.

So here goes.

I am amazed, angry and determined not to see my country die before I do, but you seem hell bent not to grant me that wish.

I can't figure out what country you are the president of.

You fly around the world telling our friends and enemies despicable lies like:

• " We're no longer a Christian nation"

• " America is arrogant" - (Your wife even announced to the world," America is mean- spirited. " Please tell her to try preaching that nonsense to 23 generations of our war dead buried all over the globe who died for no other reason than to free a whole lot of strangers from tyranny and hopelessness.)

I'd say shame on the both of you, but I don't think you like America, nor do I see an ounce of gratefulness in anything you do, for the obvious gifts this country has given you. To be without shame or gratefulness is a dangerous thing for a man sitting in the White House.

After 9/11 you said," America hasn't lived up to her ideals."

Which ones did you mean?

1. Was it the notion of personal liberty that 11,000 farmers and shopkeepers died for to win independence from the British?
2. Or maybe the ideal that no man should be a slave to another man, that 500,000 men died for in the Civil War?
3. I hope you didn't mean the ideal 470,000 fathers, brothers, husbands, and a lot of fellas I knew personally died for in WWII, because we felt real strongly about not letting any nation push us around, because we stand for freedom.
4. I don't think you mean the ideal that says equality is better than discrimination. You know the one that a whole lot of white people understood when they helped to get you elected.

Take a little advice from a very old geezer, young man. Shape up and start acting like an American. If you don't, I'll do what I can to see you get shipped out of that fancy rental on Pennsylvania Avenue . You were elected to lead not to bow, apologize and kiss the hands of murderers and corrupt leaders who still treat their people like slaves.

And just who do you think you are telling the American people not to jump to conclusions and condemn that Muslim major who killed 13 of his fellow soldiers and wounded dozens more. You mean you don't want us to do what you did when that white cop used force to subdue that black college professor in Massachusetts , who was putting up a fight? You don't mind offending the police calling them stupid but you don't want us to offend Muslim fanatics by calling them what they are, terrorists.

One more thing. I realize you never served in the military and never had to defend your country with your life, but you're the Commander-in-Chief now, son. Do your job. When your battle-hardened field General asks you for 40,000 more troops to complete the mission, give them to him. But if you're not in this fight to win, then get out. The life of one American soldier is not worth the best political strategy you're thinking of.

You could be our greatest president because you face the greatest challenge ever presented to any president.

You're not going to restore American greatness by bringing back our bloated economy. That's not our greatest threat. Losing the heart and soul of who we are as Americans is our big fight now.

And I sure as hell don't want to think my president is the enemy in this final battle...


Sincerely,



Harold B. Estes





http://www.snopes.com/politics/soapbox/haroldestes.asp

From Munich to the USA

If you ever fly into Munich and are trying to get to the US. Here are a few tips:

1. You will have to take a bus from the airplane to the terminal, so don't rush to get off the plane.

2. There will be no signs and no help to let you know that you will be flying out of the "H" terminals. Your flight will appear on no board and no one will have information on your flight, proceed directly to "H"

3. Proceed DIRECTLY to H terminals, even if you have a three hour lay-over. It took me two hours to get from my connecting flight because you have to go through two additional passport screenings and an additional security screening.

4. If your terminal is less than H15 (H14, H13.....H1) do not follow the signs past the security screening at H15. You MUST go through this security screening to get to all H terminals. If you follow the signs you get all the way to your terminal and will have to turn around and get in the security line. Again, no signs, no help, you just have to know it.

5. After you get to the terminal you have to check in with the agent (not a normal requirement) because they will do a third passport check. KEEP your baggage stickers (I normally toss these) they are required as part of this check. They will ask you a series of questions about your bags and then put a special sticker on your passport. You cannot board without the sticker on your passport.

6. Avoid Munich if you can.

Hooyah Bob McCarty!!

Retired Navy SEAL Questions Nation’s Priorities
by Bob McCarty

EDITOR’S NOTE: President Barack Obama outlined his new strategy for waging his surge-and-retreat style of war in Afghanistan Tuesday night. Because that strategy will involve the expedited deployment of 30,000 more troops under the cloud of an announced timetable for withdrawal, I’m eager to offer the important guest post below. Written by a friend, it’s especially timely in light of the news that broke one week ago about three Navy SEALs facing assault charges for doing their job in Iraq. For fear of reprisal, the author has insisted on anonymity.

Court-martial over a bloody lip?

The recent news regarding the U.S. Navy SEALs who are facing trial by court-martial raises many questions about the current mental state of America’s military, its civilian leadership and the thoughts and feelings of the American people in general.

Evidently, right and wrong have traded places on today’s moral compass. What kind of military or government sends its finest, most well-trained warriors to capture a heinous terrorist, only to bring those special operators up on charges for “mistreating” the despicable enemy mastermind of the murder, disfigurement and desecration of the four Blackwater contractors in March 2004?

Is giving an enemy terrorist a fat lip as bad as shooting and killing four American contractors on a food delivery run? Is a bloody lip equal to dragging dead American bodies through the streets of Fallujah and hanging them from a bridge? Are a few bruises, normally associated with apprehending a non-compliant enemy combatant, as bad as lighting dead American bodies on fire and chanting while videotaping for the world to see?

As a recently retired Navy SEAL with combat experience in Iraq, Afghanistan and numerous other countries the Middle East, I am appalled and disgusted with the current trend of many Americans blaming our service members for doing their jobs. It is a tragic state when Special Operations personnel are given orders to bring our enemies to justice, only to be punished for the most trivial “discomfort” administered to their captives. What message does this send to all the other Special Operations personnel or the rest of the armed forces who may receive orders to execute similar missions?

The ranks of the three SEALs who have been charged indicate that they have been in Naval Special Warfare for a significant period of time. It is normal to accumulate experience and advanced training in close-quarters combat and prisoner or detainee handling at these levels (E5 and E6) in Naval Special Warfare.

It is a testament to these SEALs’ experience and exercising of control that Ahmed Hashim Abed was brought back in such good shape, with no gunshot wounds or broken bones. Mixed martial arts fighters sustain much more serious injuries during a prize fight for entertainment than the minimal injury that this enemy combatant suffered.

Capturing hardened enemy combatants is always dangerous and frequently results in fatalities and/or injuries far worse than a fat or bloody lip. The enemy does not want to be caught and has been known to fight to the death. Need I mention the enemy’s treatment of Americans they have captured? How does a bloody lip compare to having ones head sawn off on Al-Jazeera “news”?

In addition to condemning our service members for performing the combat roles for which they were trained, is it the goal of the U.S. military or its civilian leadership to continuously burden our warriors with unrealistic and dangerous rules of engagement?

The current rules of engagement indicate that we are not willing to use our advantages and strengths to exploit the enemy’s weakness – a basic and ancient fundamental for winning in combat. Whose side is our leadership on? It would seem that they are stacking the deck in the favor of our enemies.

Will the future include more court-martial proceedings for our fighters as reward for executing orders? Should our brave warriors use half measures and tactics that endanger them in combat and give the advantage to the enemy? Not in a logical country that wants to defeat its enemies and win at war.

Political correctness is winning this war for our enemies and, without a doubt, it is a war and our enemies consider it one — even if the U.S. liberal left does not.

Regardless of the Obama administration’s new label, “overseas contingency operations,” most intelligent Americans still believe we are at WAR with Islamic radical fundamentalists bent on erasing the USA, Judeo-Christian culture and the western way of life.

Through actions like prosecuting our service members for doing their job to protect and defend, we are signing our own death warrant and signaling the end of western culture.

OMG Tel Aviv

As someone who has never been, the words, “you are going to Israel” evoked a few emotions. Excitement, anticipation, curiosity and yes, maybe even a little in trepidation. The latter being so slight it was practically non-existent…….until I arrived at the Philadelphia airport.

Having already been through security once, I was completely put off at the site of my exit gate bound for Israel. Normally open, the entire gate was enclosed by a 12-foot wall, and encased in an opaque plastic. Entrance to the gate required another security check and large signs leading to the check-point warned in English, Hebrew and Arabic, that once inside, there were no bathrooms and no leaving. The security guards were Israel Defense Forces (IDF), well armed and surprisingly pleasant.

After clearing the second checkpoint, the sight of armed guards patrolling the outside of the aircraft made that little anxiety grow that much more. What had I gotten into? Although I knew not to judge anything based on the media, having been to Dubai and having my media created perceptions completely demolished, I could not help but race through all of the PLO and Gaza strip newsreels in my mind.

The flight was great! Yes, it was 12 hours straight, but, US Airways has some new planes and I had my own personal TV in the headrest with streaming movies, TV, games, music, even shopping! Technology is amazing!


Shortly after arriving at the airport, all of my fears were gone. While the conflict is an absolute reality, with very serious allegations on both sides including ethnic cleansing and ongoing oppression charges, the city itself seems far removed. Tel Aviv has been described as a city of ”half Iran” and ”half California”; it’s something like a synagogue which meets a sushi bar. A hip city
where a thousand year old building has a funky coffee shop downstairs and a museum upstairs. Tel Aviv has some of the cleanest and most easily accessible urban beaches in the world and it is amazing! The newly refurbished pier area is breathtaking with boutique shops and eateries where the outside seating offers spectacular views of the Mediterranean at no extra charge. Something about breathing in the salt and breeze from the waters I used to navigate made this old sailor’s heart swell. I felt grounded and happy in that place.

I stayed at the Sheraton Towers in Ramat Gan. While the hotel was everything a Sheraton

should be on the outside, in the lobby, at the pool, in the spa, and at breakfast (YUM, more on that later), it breaks my heart that I CANNOT recommend them. The hotel does not meet my three criteria: “clean, clean and clean”. At first, I thought that maybe housekeeping just missed me, so I gave it a day. On the second day, my bed was made, the trash was gone, but it was not “cleaned” you know, spray cleaner, scrub, scrub, scrub everything, sweep and mop, you know, clean. This “surface clean” was something I noticed throughout my entire stay from the hotel to restaurants to businesses. Nothing was “deep clean”. Considering this, I am not sure that any hotel would match my requirements, so I guess in some ways I do recommend the Sheraton Towers by default.

So, the food. OMG the food! Israel is a vegetarians’ dream come true. Well…lacto-ovo vegetarians’ anyway. The hotel breakfast buffet seemed to go on forever. An almost never-ending assortment of breads, pastries, quiches and casseroles. Fresh fruit, local cheeses, strong coffee. A vast variety of fish (yes for breakfast) cereals, boiled eggs and even an omelet maker. It just went on and on and on. Everything was local, fresh and divine. As you may know I LOVE breakfast and almost ate myself into a coma!

The Israeli culture is very akin to my own German culture, food equals love. So here I am, full as a tick and the customer wants to go out to lunch. Lunch on the first day was Hummus and Ful. Everything is served with an assortment of “salads”, olives, pickled vegetables, falafel, pita bread, rice, it just goes on and on, but it is all so delicious. The room temperature humus is spread around the inside of the bowl and the hot ful is scooped in the middle. Olive oil and lemon juice are poured on top with various spices. It was so much food, I told my host we should share, to which he replied “Israeli men don’t share” lol.

The second day lunch was Shakshuka. Shakshuka is a dish consisting of poached or fried eggs cooked in a sauce of tomatoes, peppers, onions, and spices including cumin, turmeric, and chilies.

My host said there were two varieties, regular and spicy. Pointing to the spicy version he said, “That is not for you” lol, so I had the regular. The meal was delicious and again, huge by itself, but then they brought us each a loaf of fresh bread, a bowl of olives, and all the “salads” that come with the meal. After this meal, my host graciously asked if I would like to have Italian or Chinese food tomorrow. He assumed that I was not enjoying the meals, since I was not finishing them. I assured him that they were delicious, and despite being fat, I could simply not eat any more!

By the third day, I was eating a much smaller breakfast to avoid offending my host. On this day we enjoyed Kabobs. I had joked about the meal sizes with my host so he was kind enough to only order me two types Beef and Chicken. They were delicious and I actually enjoyed the chicken more, a first for me! They were both savory and the chicken had a real kick from the spices. I was feeling confident that I could finish this meal, but then the waitress began bringing all of the extras out, hummus, bread, pitas, olives, rice, etc, etc. I actually started laughing out loud as my host explained that this was a “small” meal and that hummus was not considered a “side”, but rather a dip, kind of like olive oil at an Italian restaurant. Again, everything was delicious and I was painfully full and pleased.

For days four and five, I skipped breakfast all together. I had not been able to eat dinner, since I was so full after lunch. By skipping these two meals, I was almost able to finish my lunch on Thursday and Friday! I thought for sure I had gained 20 pounds with the way I felt, but to my surprise upon returning home, I had LOST 4 pounds! I guess Old Testament eating has some health benefits. Maybe that is why Jesus was so ripped!? Lol

So, you may be asking, “Thomas, it was all good?” and saying, “I don’t believe it” well, up until the day I flew out it was indeed all good. Here is the big warning sticker, they will not let you leave without a fight! It is true. I’m not sure what the motivation is, but Tel Aviv airport is the stupidest cluster fu#* of an airport that simultaneously destroys the concept of intelligent design and frustrates you into considering if it might be easier to join the IDF and make a new living in Israel.

I left for the airport three and a half hours early. Not by choice mind you, that is just the way my time at the customer ended and I figured I should just get to the airport since I had my bags with me. At the end of my ordeal, I had only 15 minutes to catch my flight! WARNING: READING THE FOLLOWING WILL MAKE YOU QUESTION THE VERY EXISTENCE OF INTELLIGENT BEINGS.

Ok. I had a great trip. Great food, great people, I even had a great conversation with the taxi driver on the way to the airport and we exchanged contact info for my next trip I plan to make with the family. I wish him happy Hanukah, he wishes me a merry Christmas and I step lively into the seventh ring of hell, cleverly disguised as sliding glass doors.
As you enter the airport, there is a large sign at the back of the airport that reads “Departures” in seven different languages. “Oh, this will be easy” I think as I saunter happily into my first line which is guarded by a woman checking passports and tickets, behind her I can see the security area with metal detectors and the whole bit. I wait patiently for my turn as the line snakes around for about 15 minutes. When my turn arrives, I happily hand my passport and tickets to the woman who looks it over and asks, “Do you have any other identification?” “ahhhh, what do you need?”, I ask. “There is supposed to be a security sticker on here”. “But that is security over there; I am trying to get there”. “No, there is a security sticker you need before here. Go to the information desk and ask where to go.”

Ooook, no problem, I have time. I walk over to the information desk on the other side of the airport and the woman there says I have to go to the US Airways counter and check in, other side of the airport, level G. I walk to the elevator with bags in tow and go to level G. On the elevator is a woman with a US Airways badge and she says she will be taking us to the counter. GREAT! Things are looking up. As we exit the elevator, we go around a few roped lines that have a huge number of people waiting. These roped areas lead to a security scanner, but then the line goes right back out into the public area where I am. Very odd. I follow the representative to the US Airways counters and stand in line again. This area would be kind of like the ticket check in area in the US. I wait patiently for my turn as the line snakes around for about 15 minutes. When my turn arrives, I hand my passport and tickets to the woman who looks it over and asks if I have been through security. “No, security sent me down here”, she looks puzzled and points to the area behind me. “You have to go through security before you can come here”. I didn’t even bother to tell her that the representative brought us all here and that the security is idiotic because it just dumps me right back here and this whole area is protected by the same ropes that banks use to keep people from walking up to the tellers.

I grab my bags, duck under the rope and go get in the massive line for “security”. . I wait for my turn as the line snakes around for about 35 minutes. When my turn arrives, I hand over my passport and tickets to the woman who looks it over, asks me a series of questions and then takes my passport of to, who knows where. Anyway, I will fast forward here; my bags go through a scanner, into another line where I have to unpack my bag in front of them. A word of caution here ladies, they take EVERYTHING out of your bag that requires batteries….that’s right…..anything that requires batteries….the woman in front of me was about embarrassed enough to die on the spot, enough said.
All this security puts me right back where I was at the ticket counter, still in possession of my bags. . I wait for my turn as the line snakes around for about 15 minutes. When my turn arrives, I hand my passport and tickets to the woman who looks it over and sends me…..you guessed it, back upstairs to the original line!! So you know what happened next? I go back upstairs, I wait for my turn as the line snakes around for about 15 minutes. When my turn arrives, I give my passport and tickets to the woman who looks it over and sends me through to the security line lol. If this part of the story is frustrating you, try living it!

So things are looking up now right? I am finally in a real security line which must lead into the airport right? At the very least, this security check should be valid enough so I don’t have to do another one, right? Well, you guessed it, I wait for my turn as the line snakes around for about 25 minutes. I take off my shoes, my belt, empty my pockets, pretty much get naked, and damn if I don’t beep. What does it mean if you beep in Israel? There is a lot of yelling, a wand, loud noises, rubber gloves and really, really mean female soldiers. You also get to unpack your bag again.

All told, I finally made it to the gate with only 15 minutes to spare!

Would I go again? In a heartbeat!

If you go to Toronto, go gay

I recently went to Toronto to do a product install for an international banking company. Since the customer’s building was right in the center of downtown Toronto, I did not want to rent a car and have to deal with traffic, parking and all the stress and expense, which goes along with driving in a city. As a result, I began investigating hotels near the customer’s location. To my chagrin, all the affordable hotels in walking distance were booked due to a conference.

Being an international man of mystery, I did not let this thwart my plans. Instead, I began looking along the Toronto Metro line and eventually found a nice little hotel named “The Wellesley Manor Boutique Hotel” right across the street from the Wellesley Metro Station, a mere four stops and two blocks from the customer’s building. With free high-speed internet and at only 120 CAD a night, this seemed too good to be true!

When I arrived at the Toronto Airport, YYZ, I paid 60 CAD to take a limo to the hotel. The driver had a very hard time finding the place and we stopped in front of the Opseu Sefpo building. I first figured something was queer when I saw the huge rainbow flags covering the windows of the Opseu building. Indeed, it was such a gaudy distraction that I barely noticed the delightful little house tucked away between it and the Fox and Fiddle Pub.

The lobby of the hotel was a small side room with fine furnishings and obviously decorated to appeal to an Aberzombie & Bitch clientele. Having just left a position where my boss constantly “dropped a hair pin” with his stereotypical and overtly homosexual mannerisms and appreciation of fine furnishings and all things feminine, I was able to spot this decorating style instantly. I will point out that it looks fabulous, but it is distinctly different than how a woman designs. A beautiful Middle Eastern woman checked me in and ushered me to my room.

The room was perfect. Crown molding, pedestal sink, fine soaps, no detail was over looked and it met my biggest requirements, Clean, Clean and Clean! The room was just a bed and bath, no desk, no closet, no couch, but everything I needed for a business trip. Although my window opened to the side of the Opseu building, I mentioned earlier, the window actually OPENED for fresh air and since I was at the customer’s location for 9-10 hours a day, the view from the hotel was inconsequential. Ask for room 23.

So, a beautiful, clean and great hotel room with easy transportation to downtown Toronto, what more of a reason do you need to go gay? The FOOD!

In my experience, the brownie queens know art and as you SHOULD know, good food is an art. One important piece of advice, when you leave the hotel make a right toward Church Street, NOT a left toward Yonge Street. Church Street is the gay village of Toronto and has approximately 375 Ab Fab intimate restaurants, pastry shops, tapas bars, specialty cheese shops, chocolatiers and bakeries (I personally recommend Café California, Sambucas, and Ill Fornello.) Yonge Street is more like a dirtier version of Ho Chi Minh City, brimming with boy bars and dirty holes in the wall, with an overall health and sanitation ratings somewhere around a high “F” and a low “D”.

Therefore, when in Toronto, for the location, food, atmosphere, service and accommodations, you just cannot beat going gay.