Before I tell the story of my failed attempt to use Military Space Available Travel, there is something I want to say: **** Space A!
I had to get that off my chest. In reality, Space Available travel is a wonderful thing and under the right circumstances could be a wonderful thing. Space available Travel was less than kind to me. I admit that if I had been more punctual and a little more astute in my scheduling and fact checking, this post would likely be about the great time I had in Hawaii.
My tale of woe begins with the week that I missed two flights to Travis AFB from Petersen AFB in Colorado Springs. I called the Petersen terminal and confirmed a flight on Wednesday of the week I was supposed to leave. To my horror and surprise Wednesday morning, there was never a flight that Wednesday. There were however, flights Monday and Tuesday. I have a witness who is willing to testify in a court of law that I confirmed a flight on Wednesday with no flights before then. I should have known though that personnel cannot give information on flights more than 24 hours ahead of time by phone and confirmed the information given me by calling Petersen's automated telephone schedule information system.
The next misstep was my decision to drive to Travis AFB by way of Dallas. I decided that getting a flight from Travis AFB to Petersen AFB was uncertain so I should guarantee my return transit by driving to Fairfield, California in my 2002 VW Jetta. Bad move. The cost of gasoline and hotel rooms devoured my last paycheck and then some. Even with a free stop in Dallas at my parent's house, the cost was too much. The average cost of gas was $30. I need to refill my tank approximately every 300 miles. So on a drive of 1,700 miles one way, that is 7 refills - $210 dollars. Add the cost of sleeping at motels that aren't frequented by prostitutes and you are talking about a serious chunk of change. And that is in only one direction. The cost can be lessened some by not sleeping but not sleeping raises the potential cost astronomically when you think of the cost of replacing a car totaled by driving off the side of a mountain after falling asleep. Not to mention potential damage to one's health.
When I arrived at Travis AFB my flights were either canceled or filled by higher priority passengers. Bummer. I didn't even get a chance to visit San Francisco or Sacramento, 1 hour away and 45 minutes away respectively.
I tried to salvage the whole shebang with an overnight stop in Los Angeles. Huge mistake. I had a dreadful misadventure in West Hollywood, when I discovered that I was the only heterosexual male in 4 city blocks. I should have just gone home when the establishment I first attempted to visit, I-Candy, was closed for a private party. I should have gone home when I discovered the next one down the street was having Drag Queen night - I figured it out when one of the very tall women in miniskirts standing outside the club told a passerby "We have bigger ****s than you!" I should have gone home when I warned the young black man in the black SUV that the next club was populated with Drag Queens and he replied, "It's ok, I have a fetish for that sort of thing."
Instead, I drove down the street (Santa Monica BLVD. for those of you planning a trip to West Hollywood) and resolved to try another place. I was soon joined by a short Hispanic Male with an earring in the
left ear. (I don't know the significance of an earring in the left ear I am just emphasizing it to entertain those of you in the audience. So be entertained.) He walked with me and offered to buy me a drink. I thanked him and told of my misadventures at I-Candy earlier than night. He replied, "Well, I think you are the eye candy."
I, of course, said "Umm, thanks I guess." I should have run screaming into the night, but good sense has never been one of my strong points apparently. I started to walk into a place called "Rage" with my new friend, Freddy, in tow but something stopped me. I couldn't place my finger on it but something was not right. Later, I would have realized that it was probably the fact that there were no women in the crowd on the patio, or the gigantic posters of half-naked men visible from the doorway. One of the two should have clued me in. Instead, Freddy and I went to the next place down. (I don't remember the name which is just as well since I probably shouldn't be giving gay and lesbian bars free advertising anyway.) I walked in and saw numerous females in attendance and entered gladly. I walked straight to the unisex restrooms and stood in line with two females for the two bathrooms. The restroom I used had an inoperative toilet which I warned the female in line behind me of the problem, to which she replied "It's OK". It was definitely not ok.
I returned to the bar where Freddy was waiting with the drink he promised me and asked him bluntly: "Are you hitting on me? Because I am not gay."
He replied, "You're not? Why do I always talk to the straight guys?" He further informed me that he assumed I was since everybody else in West Hollywood is. I returned to my hotel room much sadder and wiser that night. I was returning to my car lamenting out loud "What have I done to myself?" To which a passing gay male replied "I don't know, but the question is what would I do to you?"
The one good thing that came of the night is my interaction with a homeless man sleeping on the street who I bought a piece of cheese cake. You can find his picture
here. it looks a little like an Impressionist painting.
So the moral of the story is: "Fly, it's cheaper." Driving anywhere with gas prices being what they are is sheer madness.
