mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bike rackets and dreamscapes Howdy, Paulkateers! When I first got here, someone was just leaving and gave me their bike because I had no means of getting anywhere. It was a really basic bike: no gears, back pedel to brake. You know... something you had as a kid, but only my size. I kept it under the stairs because there isn't much room in my "apartment" to keep bicycles. And it lived under the stairs happily for about two months. I took it out about two or three times a week to ride to the gym or to some nearby German town for a drink of beer. I was going to take it to Kaiserslautern about a month ago, went down to get it, and it was... dum dum dummmmm GONE! Some bastard had stolen my bicycle! Now, there are very few things in this life that I absolutely despise. A thief is one of them. What in the world makes one person think that they can rightfully take something that they did nothing to deserve? It burns me down to the core. I also hate graffiti "artists" (I call them vandels) and girls who must always have drama in their life in order to be happy. And terrible spellers. Har har. Anyway, so I kinda forgot about the bike because it was just given to me and it wasn't the highest quality bike. So, today at work, I was working on five-day forecasts for Italy and France when the guys who work beside me came back from a smoke break. They were laughing, but I didn't really pay much mind to them because I was all focused on my five-day forecasts. "Hey, Brown," one of them said. "We were out there smoking and saw two little kids riding by." "That's nice," I mumbled back with disinterest. "Yeah. One of them was on your bike!" That did it. I instantly locked up my computer, put on my shirt (I take off my camoflage when I am at work), grabbed my hat, and stormed out of the building. My supervisor yelled to me as I was leaving instructing me not to beat up some kid. And I wanted to. My first instinct was to find him, chase him down, and give him a bloody lip. So, I walked all around the part of base where I work. I was gonna find me a kid riding a cheap, black bike and... and... First, I was going to just take it from him. But he would have held on to it and would have made a scene. Then I thought about hitting him again, but he is probably, like, ten, and I am, well, slightly older than ten. My next thought was to take him to the nearest phone and to make him call his dad. Which seemed like the best idea. Make his dad come to the weather squadron to pick up his bastard of a son who stole my bike. Or maybe I could have the little butthead call the cops on himself. I thought about hitting him again, but I was in uniform and would probably go to jail. Not worth it for a bike. I had other ideas come and go during the fifteen minutes I walked around trying to find the little kid on the cheap bike. But alas, he was gone. The scenario that most likely would have panned out had I found our little thug would have been me screaming at him to come over to me. He would have put two-and-two together, realizing that the short guy with the big gut screaming at him was the owner of his free bike. Then, he would have taken off. I, in turn, would have tried to run after him, screaming and shaking my fist, but would have stopped 100 feet down the road gasping for breath. The little shit probably took my bike to go paint bad words on walls while complaining about drama from the past. Oooo. If I find him, I'm going to kick him in the shin. That'll learn'em. It's official: I'm going to Berlin this weekend. With a girl named -- and if I'm lyin', I'm dyin' -- Roach. Her name is Roach. We are catching the fast train Saturday morning and will spend two or three days while there. I find out today how many days I have off this weekend. Hopefully it is four. A guy named Dan and his fiancee are riding up there with us, but I doubt they will want to stay in a hostel with Roach and me. I keep having this recurring dream. And I hate it when I have it because it is one of those dreams that will stick with you for, like, two or three days. It is a dream about a girl I grew up with. I was told we first met when we were both two years old. We were the best of friends growing up. When my birthday came around every year, I would have a family birthday dinner/party, and a friend party. Well, she would always come to the family one because she was more than just a friend. Plus, she's a girl and probably wouldn't have had fun watching us guys wrestle and light farts. We drifted apart during high school and all contact was lost after graduation. I saw her for about five minutes during a chance meeting about two or three years ago, but other than that, I haven't heard from her since. But in these dreams, we meet up again coincidentally at a weekend retreat and end up falling in love and can't be apart from one another. It leaves me wondering where she is, how she is doing, and if she is happy. Her birthday was May 25 (I still remember!), and I wanted to send flowers, but I have no clue how to find her. Hell. The dream could interpret into a subconscious warning that I will become impotent at an early age. Or... something... Dreams can be fun sometimes (thanks Latitia Casta for last week's dream appearance, by the way!), but sometimes that can just leave you feeling blue. Ok. That's enough fun from me for one day. I need to put out a forecast for southern Spain. Here's the forecast: Hot (in the 100s), dry, and cloudless. No thanks. I'll stay in Germany. 11:25 a.m. - Wednesday, Jun. 30, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||