Stairs – An Ode to Military Humor

About two weeks after I settled into my new role as Chief of the Armament Maintenance Branch for the Deputy Chief of Staff, Matériel, 19^th Support Command at Camp Henry, Korea, the housing branch informed me that an apartment was available for me at the Sue Song Heights housing complex in Taegu.  An inspector from the housing branch drove me over to Sue Song Heights to show me the apartment.  I had to inspect the apartment and sign for it.  There were few things that I noted when I first arrived at Sue Song Heights.  First, the apartment complex was across the street from a huge lake.  Second, there were Soju tents surrounding the lake, which meant that the lake was a popular spot for Koreans to hang out at night and drink Soju and eat snack food.  Third, the apartment complex sat on top of a hill.  Fourth, after entering the gate to the apartment complex, a rather steep winding road led up the hill to the actual apartments.  Fifth, my apartment building was at the top of the hill, but it was the first apartment in the first row of apartments.  I guess that was a good location.  Sixth, my actual apartment was on the fourth floor of my apartment building.  The fourth floor was also the top floor.  I would also like to add that there were no goddamn elevators in the apartment building.  The only way to get up to the fourth floor was to climb the got damn stairs.  That’s usually not a problem, if you are in pretty good shape.  However, if you happen to have two heavy ass bags of groceries in your arms or two heavy ass suitcases in your hands, those four flights of stairs could get to be one helluva got damn long ass climb.  Not to mention that the stair climb was also a big pain in the ass and the legs and the arms and shoulders and the back by the time you got to the top.  Now, let’s just suppose for a moment, hypothetically speaking, that you had to carry a 50- or 60-pound TV up those got damn stairs.  Let me tell you something.  That could usually wind up being one helluva chore.  And it was usually when you were attempting to do something really heavy and labor-intensive like carrying furniture up those got damn stairs when there was nobody to be found anywhere in the goddamn complex to help you out.  Go figure.  That kinda shit happened to me all the damn time.  I think that people saw me coming with heavy ass boxes and disappeared into the woodwork.  It’s sort of like walking into a dark room and turning on the lights.  All of the cockroaches disappear into the woodwork.  You can see the little bastard’s run for their life and bail on your ass as soon as you flip the switch.  Yet when you open the cupboard doors, or in the case of searching for help to move heavy packages, you bang on the doors of your neighbors, not a damn one of them would seem to be home.  And the funny thing is their cars were all sitting in their carports.  They didn’t drive anywhere.  Logical explanation: they took the shuttle bus.  That’s it.  They wanted to save gas.  Save gas my ass.  Maybe they flew?  Not very damn likely.  Especially since every damn one of them seemed to have disappeared at the exact same moment.  I know.  Aliens took them.  Yeah.  That’s it.  I was just glad I didn’t have to move my own stuff from my BOQ (Bachelor Officers’ Quarters) room to my apartment at Sue Song Heights.  The travel office arranged for that to happen.  Naturally, a couple of things seemed to have disappeared in the small trip across town from Camp Walker to Sue Song Heights.  I don’t know how in the hell shit could just disappear.  Cuz the shit had been inventoried and listed on an inventory sheet.  Then, the shit had been packed in a few boxes which were then taped shut.  When the boxes arrived at the apartment, they were still taped shut.  I opened them and checked the contents against the inventory sheets.  But that’s when I noticed a couple of things came up missing.  I guess that shit got tired of my company too.  It probably also headed out on vacation with the fans.  Why in the hell would somebody steal a poncho liner and a blanket.  The poncho liner I could kinda understand.  If you had a poncho, the poncho liner was a great addition to slip underneath the poncho for warmth.  It also worked great as a standalone wrap around blanket for the colder winter months.  But a blanket?  That made absolutely no sense.  Korea was known for its blankets.  Especially its mink blankets.  No.  They weren’t really mink blankets.  That is, they weren’t really made out of mink fur.  But they felt like mink fur.  They had the texture and feel of mink fur.  That’s why they were called mink blankets.  Additionally, they were heavy and warm.  The blanket that disappeared out of my hold baggage was a wool blanket.  It was ideal to use as a liner for a sleeping bag, but it was not heavy and soft like a Korean mink blanket.  I would have preferred a Korean mink blanket.  However, I had what I had and that’s all that I had.  That is, until it decided to walk.  Dammit.  I hated it when shit like that happened.  But what was I going to do?  What the hell?  I was going to chalk it up as just another exercise in futility and file a claim with the government so that they could pay for the loss.

by

by