Lost Papers and Lilliputian Pretzels, Part Two

At six a.m. on Thursday we called the hotel desk. Our bags were yet missing in action. We called the airline using the special number we had been given. A nice lady sitting at a computer somewhere in the world told us that our luggage had not yet been located. "Keep calling, 'k?" was more or less the message that came through loud and clear. "Your luggage is lost, 'k? Live with it." So we jumped into our clothes, boarded our rented Jeep, and headed for the ubiquitous 24-hour Wal-Mart, where we bought the kinds of things one needs when one is stranded in a strange city with none of one's belongings. The night before I had washed my face with the little bar of soap on the sink, and brushed my teeth with a little toy toothbrush and a takeout condiment-sized packet of toothpaste given to me by the girls at the hotel desk. At Wal-Mart, in addition to a proper toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, I bought sunscreen, a little bit of makeup, various and sundry other toilet articles, and a hat to shove my hair under (thereby solving the problem of having to style it without all my "stuff"). I had some pirate eyeliner and lipstick in my handbag, but nothing else, so I decided to forego my customary three coats of Deppian mascara. It would have melted off anyway.

Time was of the essence so we tore back to the hotel where I took a shower and put my traveling clothes back on while my husband availed himself of the amazing Texas-sized breakfast supplied by LaQuinta. The waffle irons looked normal from the outside, but when you opened them up to pour in your batter, they made waffles in the shape of Texas! Kind of fun, that. I did not get any breakfast because I was too busy "primping" to the best of my ability, without my effects, in order to look presentable (or at least be recognizable) to my son. Armed with newly-acquired Mapquest directions, we set out in rush-hour traffic for Lackland Air Force Base, about ten miles away. I don't know why they call it Lackland (well, actually I do; it is named after a distinguished person) because there is certainly no lack of land. The place is fierce and magnificent and huge-ish. For over 50 years it has been the "Gateway to the Air Force." Every enlisted man or woman in the U.S. Air Force since the mid-'40s has trained at Lackland AFB. And my son was in there somewhere.

Having gained access to the base, we drove to the BMT Reception Center, which turned out to be a profound study in woefully inadequate square footage (they do this graduation thing 50 weekends a year; they should come across with more air-conditioned space for all the visitors to wait and mill about and wait and buy stuff and wait some more, without being in each other's pockets. Just a suggestion.) We got in a long line to sign in next to Andrew's name, then went back outside and joined hundreds of other family members queued up along a street where the "Airman's Run" would take place. This is a tradition whereby the Trainees-who-are-about-to-become-Airmen run in packs, wearing their PT's (Physical Training uniforms), and doing their "Jody calls" ... Jodies being those work songs in military cadence one associates with armed forces personnel trotting along in formation. These are in fact the military equivalent of the sea shanties, something which reminds me of a certain pirate ... but anyway, as we stood there, I of course busily chatting up the other proud mamas, they told us over a loudspeaker what color shirts the different units, or "flights" as they are known, would be wearing ... and since we knew our son's flight number, having written it many times on letters to him, we figured out he would be wearing a maroon shirt. Other shirt colors were your standard blue, green, red, gray ... but I thought the maroon ones were the prettiest.

So we waited and waited. That's one thing I figured out all by me onesie while visiting Lackland Air Force Base: the military has perfected the fine art of waiting just for the sake of waiting. Hurry up and wait! We must wait until it gets a few degrees hotter before we begin. While I waited I could not help but notice a beautiful young woman standing next to me, holding an adorable baby girl who looked to be under a year old. There was also a little boy of about three. The young woman's toenails were painted bright blue, and so were her little boy's! His name turned out to be Elijah. Elijah's mother was German ... I knew this because she constantly spoke to her children, sometimes in English, sometimes in German, and sometimes in a hybrid of the two. "Icht bein schlicten right here, okay?" she would say to Elijah. (That's not really what she said; I made that up.) Or, in describing what was about to happen, she told him his papa would be running "to the end of the strasse." They had flown all the way from Utah, where they live, to see their husband and daddy graduate from BMT. The lady on the other side of me told me that her son's name was Pedro and he would be wearing a green shirt. He was her baby boy, like Andrew is my baby boy, so in addition to both being on the verge of melting in the San Antonio sun, we had that in common.

Finally we heard some hollering and the first wave of baby boys (and girls) came loping across a big bridge in the distance and down the strasse, doing jody calls, everybody on the sidelines cheering and yelling. Before long my husband, the tall one, spotted the maroon shirts ... and a split-second later, drew a bead on a certain boy in a maroon shirt ... the one we had come to see. Andrew was positioned on the outside edge of the formation because he was dorm chief, and he is also tall, so he was easy to spot. He saw us right away too, and he pointed right at me as I took a picture. I started crying at that point. Lots of sweat and tears fall to the ground at Lackland Air Force Base and I added some of both. Andrew looked bigger and stronger than I remembered, and you could tell he was all excited about our being there. When the Airman's Run was over we didn't get to talk to him though ... that would be later, at the conclusion of the Coin Ceremony. So we had some time to kill. Hurry up and wait already.

We followed the throng into the reception center where, after standing in a very long line waiting for my turn, I purchased a fountain soft drink for a dollar. While gulping that I noticed that, back across the big "retreat pad" and out on the street where we had just been, a bunch of kids in maroon shirts were milling around and getting into formation. We had an hour and a half to expend before our special parent orientation meeting began, so we wandered back over to the street and were rewarded by the sight of Andrew's flight practicing the way they would stand for the Coin Ceremony later in the day. I walked all around Andrew taking pictures, but he couldn't acknowledge me! It was funny. I told a lady beside me, rather loudly, that our luggage had been lost. This was so that Andrew would know and understand why I looked so strange! Not that he looked at me ... he did not crack a smile either but kept his game face in place the whole time.

We watched Andrew's flight do several more practice-type things over the next half hour or so, then went back to the reception center to be oriented. There were lots of rules and regulations explained to us and I listened attentively but I knew I wouldn't remember hardly any of them. Following orientation we waited about another hour for the Coin Ceremony to begin. They had to wait for the exact apex of heat and humidity for that day before starting this ceremony up, you see. It's all part of it. We had been shown a chart and so knew which bleachers to occupy to be closest to our Trainee/Airman, and as luck would have it, our bleachers were one of the few with no canopy overhead to offer some respite from the sun. The sun had become quite fierce by that time, and before the ceremony began I was forced to stand underneath them for a wee bit, enjoying what turned out to be a nice little breeze.

In due time the waves of Air Force Blue-clad Trainees marched onto the retreat pad to retreat music, and the Coin Ceremony began. While the coins were being distributed to the individual flights by their Training Instructors, over the loudspeakers they played Ray Charles singing "America the Beautiful." Very soulful and very appropriate. I clapped and swayed and sang along. Be glad you weren't there! As dorm chief, Andrew was obliged to stand in front of his flight at times and holler orders, and when the coins were handed out to his buddies, he held the tray for Sergeant Morales. We were so proud of him. Here is a picture of him doing that, and also a picture of one side of his coin:

During the ceremony an immense, ghostly C-5 transport aircraft kept doing passes overhead in the white-hot sky. The whole thing was very moving and very beautiful. Our lovely stars and stripes, our lovely anthems, our lovely children ... God and country in all the splendor and all the time-honored tradition that beloved concept affords. The very core of all our freedoms, right there on breathtaking display. The freedoms we daily take for granted, the ones bought with the blood of brave men and women. The ones we would not be so quick to take for granted if we lived in, say, Iraq for a week or two. I loved the whole thing, was tingling throughout, and even forgot for a while that I was baking, frying, fricasseeing right there on those silver bleachers. Those things hold the heat, y'all.

After the ceremony we got our hands on Andrew. That was so much fun. He had so much to tell us! So we went to lunch at the Gateway Club on base, and spent about two hours just talking. He could not leave the base, so after lunch we went to the Mini-Mall where there was shopping and various other things to do. We purchased a few things and just generally hung out with Andrew until he had to report back to his dorm, which was fairly early. Back at the hotel we discovered that our luggage not only had arrived, but had been taken up to our room, so we changed into our swimsuits and had a lovely swim in the hotel pool. The pool was in a beautiful courtyard and no one was using it, so we paddled around and got all refreshed. After the blistering heat of the day, the coolness of the water was a most welcome sensation.

Friday morning we rose bright and early, had our breakfast (I finally got a Texas-shaped waffle and it was really good) and set out again for Lackland. We were shuttled on air-conditioned school buses to the parade grounds where the actual graduation would take place. The bleachers were full when we arrived, so we had to split up, but I got to be on the front row. It was nine a.m. but already simmering, and of course the bleachers are situated so that the climbing sun shines right in your face! And naturally, even after the more than 600 Airmen-to-be were in place on the field and everyone else was present and accounted for, they waited until it got just a little bit hotter before they began the graduation ceremony! But it was great. Lots of marching and pageantry and tradition and all that stuff, which was most impressive. It's really cool to see over 600 hands snap to a salute simultaneously. Very moving, actually.

When the colors were presented, as the troops prepared to pass in review, I spotted our beautiful South Carolina flag. The white palmetto tree and moon sliver on dark blue stood out and called to me. As luck would have it, the SC flag occupied a place of honor just behind the American flag. I found that thrilling. Then the fledgling Airmen came marching by, all but the row closest to us doing an eyes-right. Andrew had to look straight ahead as he was at the very back of the row nearest the reviewing stand. I could tell he was enjoying the whole thing very much. While the review was going on, four F-16's did a flyover in tight formation. If that does not make you tingle, I don't know what would. Then all the flights and all the flag-bearers and the marching band approached the stands and stopped just at the edge of the grass about thirty feet from us. The 600-plus hands snapped up again and they were led in the taking of their oath to the United States Air Force, the Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces, and the United States of America. And then, just a few moments later, it was over! They had crossed into the blue. The new Airmen were required to stand in ranks, at ease, until their family members reached them. We were asked to refrain from jumping over the railing in leaving the bleachers, which was a good thing because I probably would have done just that. Finally I reached my boy, gave him a hug, and admired his new stripes and decorations.

Later that day we took a tour of Andrew's barracks, met his TI and many of his friends, and finally were able to take him off base. We drove around some, had a nice dinner together, then headed back to the base where Andrew boarded a bus for the San Antonio Missions minor league baseball game. The deal was, all Airmen had to be back in their dorms by seven p.m. unless they went to the ball game, in which case they could stay out late with their families. We followed the bus in our car. By the time we reached the ball park some very dark clouds were rolling in. It began to rain shortly after we took our seats, and we had to take cover in a tunnel. When we had been there approximately three hours, the game finally started. It had rained quite a bit in the interim and lots of preparation had to be done to the field, but we watched all of that and at about nine p.m. the game finally began. The night turned lovely too, and one of their mascots is a puffy taco which was quite entertaining if a bit bizarre. We stayed until the fourth inning before heading back to the hotel.

The next morning we collected Andrew at the base and set out for San Antonio's famous Riverwalk. It was a beautiful day and not too hot. September first. The Riverwalk is magical and I only wish I could have seen it at night. I had been wanting to visit it for at least twenty years, from the first time I ever heard about it. We also saw the Alamo and took Andrew's picture in front of it, but we did not go in. Across the street from the Alamo (which is right downtown; I never expected that) is Louis Tussaud's Wax Museum, which shares space with a Ripley's Believe It Or Not museum. My husband asked an employee whether Captain Jack Sparrow was memorialized in wax inside the museum, and she told him no, but Johnny Depp was! Johnny Depp in wax! This I had to see! Only problem was, it was frightfully expensive and with our plane leaving that afternoon, we didn't really have time to do the museums justice. I reluctantly left Johnny Depp in wax unseen by me, his most ardent fangirl. My husband, true to form, intoned the obvious: "It's just a statue." Of course, he got to see two of his favorite sports figures, namely Tiger Woods and the late great Tom Landry, which statues served as the teasers in the windows fronting the street. I got to see Tom Hanks (as Forrest Gump) and Whoopi Goldberg (the teasers inside the lobby) but no Johnny. Not this time.

After a delicious al fresco lunch at one of the many Riverwalk restaurants, during which my husband was mistaken (by a waiter) for Tom Brokaw (here's a picture ... draw your own conclusion), we left our boy at the San Antonio USO, which very helpful organization would provide him with a shuttle ride back to the base. A moment after this next picture was snapped, my husband's face crumpled in tears which made me dissolve in tears too, and I think Andrew's eyes glossed over as well. Now we will be missing him for a couple more months while he is in tech school at Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi, Mississippi.

We caught our flights back home without incident, and I must say the takeoffs and the landings were much smoother this time, and there wasn't much turbulence, although the pretzels were the same. Happily our luggage was not re-lost. I made a new friend; her name was Jennifer, just like mine. We talked across the aisle almost all the way from Houston to Charlotte. Her husband is serving in Iraq! She wanted to hear all about our Andrew. Oddly enough in light of my recent blog entitled Lawyers and Parents, Jennifer told me that her life was changed about seven years ago when, as a high school senior, she was in a car driven by her best friend. There were five or six girls in the car as a matter of fact, and all of them were drunk. Jennifer's best friend lost control of the car, hit a tree, and all the girls were severely injured. The girl driving the car was taken off of life support four days later. Jennifer told me that she has never been the same, and that she devotes some of her time to counseling teenagers about the folly of drinking and driving.

Andrew called on Monday. At one o'clock that morning he had boarded one of three tour buses transporting Airmen from Lackland AFB to Keesler AFB, about 600 miles to the east. When he called he was in Baton Rouge, my mother's home town, having lunch. He sounded rested and happy. When he got to Biloxi he called again to report that he has only one roommate, and he thinks he will like it there. Quite a change from the rigors of basic training. I hope and pray he distinguishes himself as a leader in tech school, much as he did at boot camp. He's a good boy.