-Virginia Posts

This is an amolgomation of the posts I did when I was in Virginia. I was unable to find any internet connections where I was, so I simply put the journal entries into .wps format and saved them. Here's the cut-n-paste of the entries. Hope you enjoy them!

Tues, June 24
Mood: travel wary

Got to Virginia just fine. Now, usually when I travel in the air, I jump outta the fuckin plane. I can honestly say I’ve taken off in more airplanes than I’ve landed in. This, however, was not one of those cases. I hopped a quick flight outta Tampa and had a lay over in Atlanta, one of my least favorite airports. Hanging out in ATL is, in my past experiences, rated somewhere up there between a kick in the balls and a kick in the head, leaning more toward the kick in the balls. It’s always dirty, crowded and for some reason the gate you are heading to is typically the farthest gate from the one you’re standing at when you debus. However, I gotta say, this time it wasn’t nearly that bad. I got off at one gate and the gate for my next flight was just a few gates down from there. As I was walking from one gate to the next I came upon a quaint little bar where I found a chair, slung my pack on the floor (I used it as a foot rest) and proceeded to order a Southern Comfort on the rocks. The bartender gave me a funny look, but she did her job and soon I had my favorite drink chillin’ in front of me. I glanced down at my watch…9:45 am EST. Maybe that explains the funny look. Anyway, I walked toward my gate, saw a little DVD joint where you could get two movies for $20, so I bought a couple. I unwrapped one and got about halfway through it when they started boarding my flight to Richmond. The flight itself went without a hitch, pretty boring really. I hooked up with dad after a little confusion (I wasn’t thinking about if he was going to have to go through security to meet me at my gate, so I stood there for a few minutes like a dips hit, thinking he’d be right there when I got off the plane) and we drove the 3.5 hours from Richmond into Stone Mountain. I felt kinda bad for making him drive so far, but the cheapest flights I could find into Roanoake or Lynchburg were two and three times what I paid to get into Richmond. I’ll pay him back when I get a decent paying job someday!

Wed, June 25
Mood: not-so-accurate

Did a little shooting with pops today. We went out to the back of his barn where he has a 100 yard area laid out. We brought with us the following:

-17 caliber bolt action rifle with scope
-50 caliber single shot muzzle loaded black powder rifle with scope

The little 17 was a badass. The rounds just screamed outta that thing! I was making decent hits with it and after we adjusted the scope (pops actually did the adjusting, I sat there chewing a cigar, looking cool which happens to be my specialty…ask anyone) I was doing a little better. Dad made the only 10 ring hit with it (it was shooting a bit left for both of us, indicating that the scope was still in need of fine tuning) and I haven’t heard the end of it yet! Note to self: STOP FUCKING MISSING 10 RING HITS AROUND DAD! Then we busted out the 50. This isn’t the first 50 I’ve banged away on, but it was the first black powder muzzle loader. After showing me how to load it, I was shooting. My first hit was pretty spectacular, actually. I did everything right and hit at the 6 o’clock position in the small red ring just under the 10 ring. Pretty good for a first shot. I got uncharacteristically worse with the weapon on the following shots, however. I dunno if it was the heat, the pressure of not making a 10 ring hit with the 17 or if I was relaxing too much after making such a good cold bore hit, but it opened the door for dad to make another 10 ring hit (with the 50 this time). Again, I still havent heard the end of it. Now I’m the ex-Navy guy that can’t make 10 ring hits outta the box getting show up by the ex-cop! Oh well, I can out shoot him with my guns, but he’ll never hear me say that! Actually, I do wanna get something off my chest here, lol. It’s not a big deal, kinda funny really and I know he didn’t mean anything by it. I would expect him to pick on me and I welcome it, actually. This is more of a point of clarification than anything else. When dad was “reminding” me of his 2 ten ring hits, he said something to the effect of “Aren’t you SEAL types supposed to be able to compensate and make hits?” The answer is no…not really. When any military unit, from 11-bravo grunts right up to seasoned professionals in counter-terror units make those spectacular hits, it’s because they’ve made that hit a thousand times before in training. They are familiar with the weapon, the load, the conditions, etc. Now, when they pick up a different weapon, they will be fairly accurate. They will rely on all the information they gathered from other weapons, apply that information and make hits. It’ won’t always be pretty, but it’ll be effective. My hits were effective. On a human sized target, every hit I made woulda been a kill shot. All of them. Would I have been able to dot someone’s eye at the 95 or so yards we were shooting from? No, not unless I had a little luck on my side. Would I have been able to put that bullet into a head-sized target at that range with either weapon? Yes, I could and I did. When I shoot, it isn’t for sport, it isn’t for fun. It’s a training tool so that if and / or when I am put in a situation where I have to put said bullet into said head, I can do it. It don’t have to be pretty, it don’t have to be a ten ring shot, it just has to kill the motherfucker dead. I did that. As for SEAL-types and their capabilities…well…there’s just something that a lot of people don’t realize. I hear it at the shooting range near home, and now from my father. Shit like “I figured with your training you’d have tighter groups…blah blah blah.” People expect you to live up to the bullshit they see on TV. It ain’t real. My hits are kill shots, nothing more nothing less. The difference between a normal schmuck and me is that not only can I make that hit you just saw (which may not always be in the 10 ring, but will 90% of the time be a kill shot), but I can jump out of a plane into water, swim 10 miles, find a car, steal it, drive to your house, sneak into your room and THEN make that hit on YOU when YOU”RE SLEEPING. That’s the difference, and that’s all I have to say about THAT!

Thurs June 26
Mood: wet!

Went to Smith Mountain Lake today. My cousin (we’ll call him Kurt for security reasons) and his Captain, Gnarl (again, not his real name), my pops and I all loaded onto Kurt’s ski boat and headed out. SML is a man made, dam-flooded lake with a shit ton of nice-ass houses on it. It has a ton of little fingers and coves and we spent the majority of the time floating around in one of them. We were about 100-120 yards off shore, so I decided to go on a little timed swim / recon to check out the shore line. I stripped down to my underarmor boxer briefs (they look like bike shorts) and headed out. About 2 minutes later, I was on shore. Not bad, but not my fastest. I took a look around, realized that around the bend were some old hags on a party boat who took an immediate interest in the bearded, tattooed, underwear sporting sasquatch of a guy that just invaded their shore line, and headed back. 2 minutes and 8 seconds later (I timed it this time) I was back to the boat. We floated around (they floated, I treaded water in an attempt to stay in shape) for another 40 minutes or so, loaded back up and headed in. After we got home and cleaned up, dad and I went to a little Mexican joint and met up with a bunch of his friends. They were all nice (there must be some kinda ‘happy people’ drugs in the water up here), the food was good; it was a good time! If it wasn’t so far away from everything, I’d consider moving up here. Maybe if I live to see retirement!


Fri. June 27
Mood: a little jealous of Woody’s mad skillz!

Got up early and helped dad around the house. Up here, everybody calls their places by individual names, and dad’s place is no different. So, technically speaking, I’m staying with dad at Meadow Creek Farms. I don’t get it, but I’m a “damned dirty city-slicker” so I’m not supposed to. I realized I was giving my dad the same look girls give me when they realize I name my guns, so I suppose I can understand wanting to name your estate. Anyway, after we sorted out the chores on the back patio, we wandered over to the next door neighbors house. Now by wander, I mean we got in the Polaris Ranger (picture a golf cart on steroids…and crack rock…and more steroids…and like six Red Bulls and you’ll get the idea of what these things are) and went next door. 1.6 miles later, we pulled into the front drive. The neighbor, we’ll call him Woody, is a carpenter. This guy bought a wood kit from some home manufacturer and proceeded to fucking whittle the nicest damned house I’ve ever seen in my life. Custom everything, from the exterior to the cabinets to the railings, he even used wooden nails, Amish style (which is who he learned his trade from). As if I wasn’t jealous enough, he took us out to his “garage.” By garage I meant his 3000 sq.ft. aluminum building where he housed his Shelby GT500 (the newest one), a custom Ford pick up, a Ford Ranger (his work truck) and enough machine tools and parts to make the Jeep shop I work at look like a LEGO set. I mean, it was NICE. On top of all that, he’s a damned fine gentleman, a real nice guy in the true sense of the word. There’s just something about Virginia. Now, if only the girls up here didn’t look like the defensive line for the Giants… Ok, I take that back, there are some pretty girls up here. They’re all married, most of them have eye-fucked me from across the various shops and restaurants I’ve been haunting, and the majority of them are being closely followed by baby-toting husbands. Go figure. I’m in another state (Virginia is for LOVERS, remember?), perfectly ready and willing to have meaningless sex with one of those infamous “Virginia girls that can ‘Ride, drink, fight, and make a damn nice dinner’” and the only ones that seem interested are the bored married ones. Now that’s not totally true (there have been more than one flirty eyebrow raises directed at me, particularly from this cute brunette in a Wrangler…you know who you are) but it might as well be! Lol, ahh the single life. I need a drink, lol.

2nd Entry
Mood: Sleepless in Virginia

Couldn’t sleep. Talked to Ahi-Ahi (who is just a friend at this point) and another girl via text. Ahi was basically filling me in on what she’s been up to since I left and letting me know that her homework just isn’t the same without my sage advice and clever manipulation of the English language. Although I think Ahi is attractive, cute, funny, and an overall pleasure to be around I know that relationship is going nowhere. I’m a morning person, she lives on the other side of the planet, things just aren’t destined to work out. So, that’s that. Anyway, we’ll call the other girl Montana (not her real name of course!). Now, I’ve known Montana since just after Kristy and I started dating. She was a freshman in the leadership house when K. was in her senior year. Of course, Montana is an absolute cutie. Athletic, funny, and a party girl. Well, she’s doing a triathlon soon and I might do it with her. We’re talking about hanging out on the 4th, doing the tri, then…well…who knows. We’ll just have to see what we’ll see.

Oh, on a side note, I got a text from my new roomie. I guess when I left for Virginia USF decided to turn me from a bachelor in a 4 person suite to one of four! WTF!?!?!?! Oh well, the text I got was polite so I have hope for the new roomies. I hope they’re all old enough to drink!

Sat June 28
Mood: well armed…YAR!!!

Today we did the Roanoke trip. We drove up into the Blue Ridge, picked up the Blue Ridge Parkway and stopped along some pretty nice spots. We hit downtown Roanoke, went into town and checked out some local sports stores. I finally got the Teva kicks I’ve been looking for, got a compass for my watch, and a bigger knife. I’ve been carrying a little dinky 1.5 inch folder since I got here, something I picked up at a fishing tackle store. I grabbed a Spyderco Raven combo blade at Sportsman’s Warehouse in Roanoke. It’s a kick ass little blade. It’ll be a good backup for the Strider when I get home but for now she’s my primary. After we got back, we hit up a little bar down on the lake and I got good and drunk. Came home, watched Super Troopers on Comedy central and hit the hay. Ah, another Virginia day!


Mon June 30
Mood: Somber

Got up, hit AJ’s (it’s been our usual breakfast stop for most of this trip) and got my usual…coffee and a protein omelet. Eggs, sausage, onions and heartburn, yum! They raise their own hogs up here and the meat’s friggin’ great, so…Anyway there’s a waitress at AJ’s that’s just as cute as a button. Red head, and I mean RED. She has a kid and apparently it’s the talk of the town that she and her baby-daddy had a falling out. She’s been gave me the “fuck me” eyes a few days ago and she pulled a repeat today. Thing is, she had her kid there in the restaurant as well. Cute kid, had hair almost as red as momma. So while mommy is attractive, I just can’t be ATTRACTED to her. It’s obvious she is irresponsible. Cute, but irresponsible. Maybe I’m being too harsh, but that’s just the way I feel. The next girl I’m with is going to have to be perfect before I even raise an eyebrow in her direction. I’m no longer compromising when it comes to women. I’ve done too much of that already.

So, after AJ’s dad and I went to the D-Day Memorial. I was surprised to learn that it’s in Bedford County. The reason for this is because, of all the cities, towns, and counties in the United States, Bedford County lost the highest percentage of men during the D-Day Invasion, Operation Overlord. Being there was sobering, seeing all the names on the walls. There must have been ¼ mile of names on a wall 5 feet tall. That’s a lot of names.

After the D-Day Memorial, dad and I came home and did some shooting. We pulled out the old lever action 30-30 and the Savage 300. While I sucked pretty hard with the 30-30, I made a 100 yard, cold-bore bulls-eye with the Win-Mag (I know, I know, 100 yards is nothing with a 300 Win-Mag). I was plenty happy with that and I shot well with it for the rest of the day.