I mentioned a story of some hilarity in my long, difficult drive.
I had the privilege to drive the company van. It is an ordinary mini van in many was, but in one way, it is not. There is a massive violin on the side, logos everywhere and phone numbers plastered along the doors.
I went to pick up the Sergeant at her Air Force Base. In a minivan with a massive violin on it. “Eh, I’ve got this!” I thought with the cocksure attitude of a child of the Military.
I pulled up to the security hut and rolled my windows down. I produced proof of insurance, my Wisconsin ID, and the email from the Sergeant and handed it through the window to the pasty, fish eyed but armed and therefore onerous security man.
“Thank you ma’am. Is this your first visit?”
“And is this for business or personal?
what kind of question ends with that part of speech…. ” um….Sorry….business…the Sergeant is accompanying me on a business trip.”
“So it’s for your company, not for you?”
But it is for me…she’s totally doing me a favor… “It’s for my company, but frankly, it’s a personal favor. We’re friends, but this is a company trip.” Why is this monkey-fish flustering me! My dad outranks his commanding officer just one state over.
Another security hulk shambled out of the hut. This one was as orange as the other was pale. It was bizarrely like a fake tan, but I would never impugn a dignified, eagle eyed gentleman by implying he had a fake tan. Especially all over his bald head.
“Ok, Ma’am, please step out of the van and open all doors, compartments and the hood.”
“Sure thing, sir. “…………”Um….I don’t know how to open the hood on this van. I’ve only driven it a few times. Can you help me?”
“Yeah, no problem. While I look for the lever do you have any firearms or narcotics?”
“NO! what? NO!” This is a violin company van, though… in a way… I can understand his question…wait, it’s a standard question. right.
“Ok, just wait here while I call this in.” said the Pasty Fish eyed one and left for the hut. I stood in the cold wind, arms crossed, looking at the violin van standing there gaping emptily at the world and tried to make small talk with the Orange one.
Honestly, he was a nice guy, under the hue. Decently interested in Shar and more than happy to talk to a pretty girl. ( I was well made up for the events to come). We chatted about music and the weather and the trip up north. I regained my footing, and felt completely at ease with getting onto an army base, even without my old Army ID.
Pasty Fish Officer came out with a deadness in his eyes. “Ma’am, ” he said “I need you to turn around and put your hands on the vehicle.”
I stared at him! The only thing I could think of in my past was some speeding tickets. What on EARTH did they dig up on the violin company? I thought this in a sort of fuzzy feeling of shock as I put my hands in the air and eyed Pasty Fish fishily.
“I’m JOKING! You’re fine! But I do need to show Orange Eagle this ID.” Best deadpan in the world. I was still unsure of my ground.
“Look at this….She’s from Wisconsin.” Said Pasty
“Oh no. That’s not ok. We can’t let her on.” Said Orange.
What? That’s not a rule I ever heard…. not in all these years….oh put your hands down, doofus. You look stupid. He did say he was joking. yeah, but he doesn’t look like it. Fishy….Eagle-y….very very serious men. I’ll have to call the Sergeant. And then my Dad. And then my company.
“Yeah. I bet she’s a Packer fan.”