And You Smell Like One, Too

     As I posted earlier on FB, that was the greatest baseball game I've ever attended. And I've been going to games for at least 40 years. It was cool having Adam as my guest, seeing as he's never been to an Indians game. Certainly glad we came back with that 4-run 7th to win it. But probably the coolest thing of the night came on the train heading back to Brookpark. We were kinda jammed in like sardines, when a couple squeezed us all together a little tighter. She was certainly a beauty (so, shoot me: I'm a sucker for redheads), but that's not the focus here. Her boyfriend, it turned out, is a Reservist, and had just gotten back from his annual 2-week wonderland at Camp Ravenna earlier this week...

     Civilians cannot fully understand what followed. Once it was discovered we both were service-connected, for the remainder of the trip it was just me and him, shooting the shit, swapping stories, commiserating about the VA, and so on. Here's this young man, a buck sergeant in the USAR whom I had met just minutes prior, and I, conversing as if we've known each other for years. As the crowding lessened, and seats became available, she sat in the seat next to where we had all been standing, while he and I continued to stand across from each other talking. And she has obviously seen this happen before, since as she sat, she watched us, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, never once seeming upset that he and I were talking like old war buddies. As the occupancy thinned even more, and seats were rapidly being emptied, we still stood at the back talking. I soon became aware, via the reflection in the glass behind him, of several people who were seated, watching us talk. Every time I glanced, we were the subject of scrutiny.

     Just like that, we were at the Brookpark station, which, incidentally, was their stop as well. Time was immemorial during the ride, as it felt both at once as if we had been talking for hours and yet it seemed like mere moments. As we exited the station at the bottom, and started down the ramp, one of the gentlemen who had been watching us asked if we were in the military. My newfound Army friend stated that he was, while I informed him that I was a USAF veteran. He then proceeded to tell us that he guessed that we were from remembering how his dad would act around fellow soldiers/veterans. He then thanked us for our service, mentioned it was an honor to meet us, said he was glad to witness service members of two differing generations holding a conversation where everything stated was understood, and how sad he was that he had been unable to serve (medical). I saw the shine in the sergeant's face, and knew the same was radiating from mine as we thanked the gentleman for his kind words and we all parted ways.

     There is no bond greater than the one between brothers that has been forged in the hellfire of death and destruction, but the one between service members of any type is pretty damn good, too. We may joke about each others' branches, call each other names (grunt, flyboy, jarhead, squid, coastie), but that's a privilege earned. Watch a civilian try the same, then bask in the glory of the shitstorm that ensues. And I still have friends that are active grunts, flyboys, jarheads, squids, and coasties. And we can still talk and jibe at each other as if we've been serving together forever.

     All in all, a very good birthday.

Still on bended knee nightly