I’d love to jump right in and tell you how the trip went but I can’t. I was so exhausted yesterday I didn’t write a thing, figuring I’d write something up tonight. That was silly. Now I have 24 hours of the normal bile sitting on top of the trip report. So, like a rocket that has to burn off all the bulk fuel so it can climb into higher orbit and burn clean, I have to spew my BS before I can get to the cool stuff.
I went in to work this morning all happy-like. I was ready to get back to work and get some stuff finished up before we close out the year. Lucky for me, this week’s work is at Mayport so I’ll be home all week. Heffner is already in town and started the installation on Monday so we should be just about ready to get all the testing done this morning.
So much for optimism. Heffner came over the house last night and we all went out to dinner together. In between the goofyness and fun, he told me that the usual “if it can go wrong; it will” mode has plagued our recent install here in town. The week looks like it’s going to be a long one and I haven’t even started yet. But, they don’t call us the “A” team for nothing, Heffner and I have solved and completed a lot of stuff that other teams have walked away from. If anyone can get this done, we can.
So, with the idea that we are once again going to save the day, I set out toward Mayport this morning thinking that everything was going to be alright. WRONG!
Before I go any further, you should know that I have nothing but love and respect for people that serve in the military. Much of my family and many of my friends were military at one point and I because I never was, I make sure I try not to say anything that might sound like I’m down on the whole thing. That being said, I fucking HATE having to go on to military bases!!! Dealing with these people at the gates and pass centers is like dealing directly with Satan. They know what buttons to push and they will hit it over and over and over… My own personal Hell will have these people there waiting for me and every morning I spend in Hell, before I go through the fiery gates to be tortured and burned, I’ll have to sign in and deal with these dumb fucking morons that have nothing better to do than waste my time.
We fight the traffic and get into the visitor center on time. We meet Steve (our FAA rep) and get in line. We each have our two forms of ID, registration and insurance cards at the ready. I’m Mr. Efficiency, I want to be prepared. We get up to the window and Heffner presents the letter that shows we are coming on base and who authorized it. The lady tells me to go back in line and wait for the next window. We explain that we’re both listed on the same letter. She still wants me to wait. Even from the line, I can hear that there is a problem with access. The guy that signed the pass for us to get in is supposed to be standing here. Heffner and Steve explain that it worked just fine yesterday and for a whole week last month. The lady says she’ll have to make some phone calls.
OK, the person at the other window is done and the lady behind that window calls me. You should know the situation before we go on much further. There are only two windows open. Heffner is at one and now I’m at the other. It is 7am on a week day, there is a line of nine or ten people behind me. Holding up both windows with the same problem doesn’t sound like a good idea to me. The lady is sitting two feet from the lady dealing with Heffner. She asks for my IDs and I give her the documents. Now she asks who my sponsor is. Of course I can’t hear her, she’s behind two inch bullet-proof glass and speaking in some dialect that I presume may be English but it is too muddled in Spanish for me to tell. I finally figure out what she is asking and explain that it’s on the paper at the next window. Rather than have me step aside and deal with the next person in line, or have me step next to Heffner and have us both at the same window (like I wanted to do in the first place) she decides this is a good time to relax and sit back in the chair, waiting on the other lady to deal with the issue. I can hear the other lady on the phone, she’s really not too concerned with getting anywhere with this. Neither of these idiots is very concerned with the growing line behind me. After a bit of chatter, some laughing about a lady named Susan and catching up on what the family is doing for Christmas, I hear the lady hang up. Access isn’t going to happen without the sponsor signing us in.
OK, I can get with that. Actually, I prefer that. It could have been anyone’s signature on that letter. The idea that I could have my Mommy write a note for me to get on to a major military installation didn’t make any sense to me, hell, it scares me!. I mean once we finally got in, I was right there by ten or more Navy ships and only 30′ or less from the ship’s hulls. I could throw a beer bottle and hit it I was so close. So while I agree with their heightened sense of security, I didn’t appreciate the indignant attitude with which it was announced. The lady was a bitch. I don’t know if it was divine right or infernal command that gave her the power but some supernatural force took hold and she went from carefree loser to hardcore superbitch in mere seconds. It was like we were the morons that held up the line which they NOW have decided to notice. Hey lady, its how we were told to do it. It worked yesterday, why would we do anything different? After hearing a little bit of shit from these two harpies, Steve steps in and says that he’s retired military and can he sign us in? They sigh, like we should have done this all along and instead of just putting aside the papers they were working on, she balls up the pass, throws it over her shoulder and mumbles something about, “Now I have to start all over because you didn’t have the right form…” It’s a damn good thing they have her behind bullet-proof glass. It’s just about now that I notice just how ugly this lady is. I never noticed before but now that she’s pissed me off to the point that I want to remove her spleen with an olive fork, I can’t look away. She’s one of those people that have the “drawn on” eyebrows. I guess they slipped and cut her real eyebrows off while they were shaving down her hairy-monkey face and teaching her to walk erect. With every word she mumbled I wanted to tear through the glass, grab her pointy ears with my bleeding hands and scream into the dirty, scar-ridden face of this Orc-bitch, “YOU LAZY, FUCKING, WHORE! IF YOU INSIST ON MUMBLING, DO IT IN THE LOCAL LANGUAGE! I’M NOT TRYING TO GAIN ACCESS TO EL-GENERAL-GERALDO-CONSUELO-DEL-MARTINEZ’S BASE, THIS IS A US NAVY BASE AND I EXPECT YOU TO BE A DUMB CUNT IN ENGLISH! YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!” But somehow I suspected that would have been counter-productive to my gaining access so, I just stood there and bit my tongue.
Heffner has his pass and now they’re working on mine. After a ten second eternity, I managed to get my pass and walk out without getting jailed. They remind us we have to go in through the contractor gate on A1A. Of course, the pass says nothing like this and Steve and Heffner say they never had to do that before. The lady gets pissy again and we go out to the trucks, assuring the lady that we’ll remember. I’m 20′ from the main gate but you’re telling me I have to cross three lanes of heavy traffic and drive five miles to some magical gate that only allows work trucks to pass through? Yeah right, that’ll happen, good luck with that. We pulled out into the main gate traffic and flowed right in. Contractor gate my big fat ass!
I don’t want to be hated for the wrong reasons. I didn’t imagine many horrible things happening to this lady because she was Hispanic. I vividly imagined her being eaten by rabid wolverines only because she was a bitch and for no other reason. The eyebrows, the Spanish muttering, the mini-golf acne face; they were just the footholds for me grip on to. Any port in a storm. I’m likely to use anything, no matter how trivial. Black, White, Hispanic, French, I don’t care; I hate everyone equally. I’m an equal-opportunity-offender. Like I said, I don’t want you to hate me for the wrong reasons; hate me for all the right reasons!!!
After arriving at the tower, we started dressing in the rest of the installation. We can’t get very far because they haven’t shipped any of the cables with the equipment. Yesterday, the ass-bandit in Melbourne said, “That’s just not possible”. Well little buckaroo, it is indeed possible and after a few installations, you’ll come to realize that not only is it possible, but probable. The cables should be here by 10am.
At 9am, we see that BellSouth has not delivered the T1′s yet. Their records show that they have, but we don’t see them. Must be some of those really cool inviso-Ts! High-tech shit! 10:30, the cables haven’t arrived. The DHL tracking says “Delivery Attempted”. There’s a guy at a desk waiting for our package. DHL never hit the door. Turns out, the MPs shut down a road for cross-traffic of troops or equipment or something. The DHL driver put us on the bottom of the list and moved on. That’s smart, and probably what I would have done too, but damn it! I’m waiting for those cables. DHL says they’ll re-attempt delivery in two hours. Bell says they’ll have a tech on site for tag/locate in two hours. Time for lunch.
Steve hates McDonalds. I understand. I agree! But that’s all they have right here. He drives around to the beach-side of the base and they have a Pizza-Hut and BBQ joint. After going inside, he doesn’t want either of them. We drive off base to hit a Chinese buffet. While at lunch, Bob calls to dispatch me to JAX-TRACO to test back to Penny at Gainesville. Ken is coming up from Miami but I can get to her quicker. Unfortunately, Penny and her FAA rep have already figured out that Ken won’t be here in time to test today and have left site, he’s headed to Ocala. After a bunch of phone calls, Penny and her TOR will go back to site to test.
I get to JAX and Penny says we are on hold, our SAC tech has discovered a circuit collision (our circuit is assigned to an existing path). After an hour waiting, I finally got something done today. Heffner calls to tell me that the cables have arrived but are missing the most important cables. They will be shipped out tonight. Bell found the missing T1s. They are in building 50. We are in building 90. The Navy and the FAA are battling to see whose responsibility it is to get them moved. Building 90 is the old ATCT (Air Traffic Control Tower). The OLD one, not to be confused with the NEW one they are almost done building 100 yards away. This means that in another nine months or so, we get to do this all over again but with the extra element of LIVE TRAFFIC on the circuits. Fun shit huh? Heffner’s heading back down to X68 (Space Shuttle Landing Facility) tomorrow. I’m heading to another local site until the NMO cable arrives and then I’m going back out to Mayport to face Hell once more. Could be worse, they could send me to Kentucky.
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