Grumble grumble, What was that about "letting sleeping dogs lie?" I came home after 6 years when I wasn't allowed to reenlist due to injuries. I went the following Monday to a scheduled job interview at Raytheon, a government weapons contractor. I was in a 3 piece suit, had my own pen (a Parker,) sub contractor referall and a FRESH haircut. I'm in the waiting room across from some Deadhead in torn jeans and a "Paraquat sucks!" T-Shirt. The interviewer asked about my qualifications, talked to mr sunshine about music and hired him, asking to borrow my pen so they could fill out the forms <img src="/images/graemlins/mad.gif" alt="" /> I next went to the Westlake Village Lake Association to apply for the courtesy patrol boat service. They choked when I presented my qualifications- and hired two college students. They were later caught drinking beer and shooting ducks with a pellet gun while a vietnamese grandfather drowned in 3 feet of water. So I enrolled in College. I took a class in american lit. My avowed marxist proff gave us THE OPEN BOAT by Stephen Crane as our first assignment. She had a fascinating interpretation, the position of the survivors mirroring various class distinctions and personality types. I disagreed, explaining how the type of whaling boat in use demanded specific crew displacement for balance and the captain in a position to navigate and command. Chastised, I promptly dropped the course and retreated to a biker bar. After getting kicked out for hurting the carefully cultured ambiance I went to an irish pub. After 4 hours I was intimate in a scheme to run guns to 'the lads'in Belfast. I pocketed $200 USD advance pay to skipper the boat and made a note to shave my beard. That night in my first evening class I met Roya, a stunning Iranian jew. "You have nicely polished shoes. My grandmother taught me to look at a man's shoes and watch and only then his eyes." My watch at the time was a rare, USAF issued Bulova cronometer( thoughtfully removed from a drunk airdale for his safety.)
We had dinner at some moroccan restaurant with belly dancers on the gun money and dated for 4 years. That was my transition to civilian life. No classes, invites from the VFW and my brothers gave me plastic models of C.G. cutters for Christmas the next 3 years. Quoting John Lennon, "Life is what happens while your making plans." <img src="/images/graemlins/grin.gif" alt="" />