Monday, November 16, 2009
For anybody who might be confused about what it is that Christopher does for a living (we've never really gone into details on the subject have we?)... hes a hydraulics mechanic in the US Air Force. So, basically, he fixes airplanes. There are two different kinds of planes at the base that we're stationed at (Dyess AFB, in Abilene Texas), the C-130 and the B-1. Some people work on one or the other, but he works on both.
A few weeks ago he was able to take us down to the B-1 bomber, for a family day sort of thing, where they open it up, let you look around, and then hubby can proceed to talk your head off about how this exact bomber is the next plane in line after the plane that was featured in the movie Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen (hes worked on that plane too though).
I didn't write about our trip down to the Bomber immediately after we went, because at the time, I was so absolutely crazy upset with my husband, that I could hardly stand to look at him, let alone think about him and write about him in a positive manner. I'm over it now (obviously), but-
On the day that we went, a wicked cold front swept though, dropping the temperatures when we weren't paying attention, down to about 50 degrees, with a windchill of 40 (don't laugh, this is Texas, that's cold for us!). So there we were, standing there under this enormous plane, teeth chattering, lips turning blue, when it was finally our turn to go up into the plane. I was holding the baby, who was wearing a hat and wrapped up in a warm blanket, but I'm sure he was still freezing, and Christopher was holding hands with little Miss Eleanore. Next thing I know, Christopher and Eleanore are up in the plane, and Charlie and I... are not. Without pulling all of the potty words out of my vocabulary toilet, let me just nicely say that- my husband forgot about me and the baby. By the time he came back down, I was so mad (and throwing a silent tantrum that would later explode out loud) that I just wanted to leave. There were plenty of other people standing out in the cold waiting to go up into the plane after Christopher and Eleanore, that there wasn't time for Charlie and I to go up, and I wasn't about to stand in line for another hour. It just wasn't worth it.
Now that I've calmed down and don't give a crap whether the baby (or myself) got to sit in the pilots seat or not (see, totally over it, pffft), I'm able to share some of the pictures that I took before I blew my steam top and stomped and pouted away from the plane.
Have you ever seen a giant bomb up close? Its one of those things that you wouldn't normally think about, ever, until you're standing right next to one, reaching out and running your fingers along its tail, thinking about all of the things that this one bomb could do. Its both frightening and exhilarating at the same time. Of course, when my 3 year old reached out to touch it, my voice pounced out of my throat and snapped "Don't touch that!". Its ok for Mommy to get blown up (even though we're standing 5 feet apart, and they're not fingerprint activated), but you can't.
Eleanore loved it though, going up inside the plane with her Daddy. She got a little scared on the way up the ladder, and I heard some tears after she got situated inside, but overall she loved it. Who wouldn't? Hopefully next time it won't be cactus freeze degrees, and Christopher won't forget about half of us. Oh, and maybe next time it will be plane number 6122 (the one that was in transformers).