Air-Minded: Radio Voice
If there’s anything worse in military aviation than losing your shit on the radio, I don’t know what it is.
"When I do not want to say things in real life I often say them here." — Mimi Smartypants
There I was at 30,000 feet
If there’s anything worse in military aviation than losing your shit on the radio, I don’t know what it is.
I was around in the boys’ club days of the Air Force, when NCO and officers’ clubs would bring in strippers, hard-working women who earned every dollar we stuffed in their G strings while fending off our drunken attempts to grope them. Nothing but respect. But those days are over.
That, right there, is where I spent the first four years of my flying career: Vance AFB in Enid, Oklahoma.
Donna’s at her annual sewing guild retreat, partying with friends, free from the demands of kitchen, hearth, husband, and dogs.
I’m not sure what’s up with this Phoenix Driver patch.
You probably think I’m being immature. Have you met any fighter pilots lately?
Anything else, at this point, is speculation, and we’re not supposed to comment until the facts are known. Well, the further I get from the long arm of the Air Force, the less I’m inclined to observe the pieties, so I’m just gonna jump in the speculation canal with both feet. Up to my neck.
This morning I looked up shiggy in the Urban Dictionary. Turns out I was pretty close.