Wow! This blog has improved since I was last here. Impressive.
Ohmigod! Is that my IM with Bryan below? How embarrassing. Is nothing scared anymore?
Anyway, Bryan and I have been away on training in Virginia. Every year we have to sharpen out tactical skills, so we go to Quantico and get put through the paces all over again.
I swear the training has gotten harder from since the last time I was there. I still have rope burns on my hands from trying to climb up that damn vertical wall. Who in the hell other than Wonder Woman could scale up that wall in two minutes? That thing was like trying to climb up Mt. Everest. Of course Bryan did it in 1 minute and 35 seconds. I hate him.
Then we had Ammunitions Training. Now I can shoot with the best of them, but this training range was ridiculous. Are paper targets supposed to be so small? What ever happened to the full body target? I have a pic. Take a look:
What the hell are those bottle pictures about? It was like being out in the old West when they did target practice using bottles. That's Bryan third from the left. I swear that man lives for shooting people. It was like he was back to his old mercenary ways. Eyes focused and squinty, face a blank mask, body posture rigid.
Meanwhile I was struggling to carry the fifty pounds on my back while trying to control the kick-back on my MP-5. No easy task I tell you. It would've been easier trying to tackle a 250lb. guy while trying to eat ice cream on a cone than trying to carry all that shit around in 95 degree weather. My hair was soaking and plastered to my head when I took my helmet off. As if I ever had good hair karma right?
But I did get good marks on everything I did. As Bryan had told me as I was about to give up after shimmying in the dirt crawling under wires all day: "The pain and frustration you're feeling now is nothing compared to when you're out on the streets with a bullet in your gut and fifteen bad guys shooting at you."
That right there was enough motivation for me. Having been shot I know that the reality of that pain is nothing to joke about.
But now we're back in the office. I have my Dunkin Donuts coffee in my hand and a croissant on my desk. There's no heat, dirt, water, mosquitoes, bunk beds, trainers yelling in your ear or five mile runs at 6am. Life is good.
Okay wait. Hold that thought. I see Tyler making his way over to my desk. Damn.
Ohmigod! Is that my IM with Bryan below? How embarrassing. Is nothing scared anymore?
Anyway, Bryan and I have been away on training in Virginia. Every year we have to sharpen out tactical skills, so we go to Quantico and get put through the paces all over again.
I swear the training has gotten harder from since the last time I was there. I still have rope burns on my hands from trying to climb up that damn vertical wall. Who in the hell other than Wonder Woman could scale up that wall in two minutes? That thing was like trying to climb up Mt. Everest. Of course Bryan did it in 1 minute and 35 seconds. I hate him.
Then we had Ammunitions Training. Now I can shoot with the best of them, but this training range was ridiculous. Are paper targets supposed to be so small? What ever happened to the full body target? I have a pic. Take a look:
What the hell are those bottle pictures about? It was like being out in the old West when they did target practice using bottles. That's Bryan third from the left. I swear that man lives for shooting people. It was like he was back to his old mercenary ways. Eyes focused and squinty, face a blank mask, body posture rigid.
Meanwhile I was struggling to carry the fifty pounds on my back while trying to control the kick-back on my MP-5. No easy task I tell you. It would've been easier trying to tackle a 250lb. guy while trying to eat ice cream on a cone than trying to carry all that shit around in 95 degree weather. My hair was soaking and plastered to my head when I took my helmet off. As if I ever had good hair karma right?
But I did get good marks on everything I did. As Bryan had told me as I was about to give up after shimmying in the dirt crawling under wires all day: "The pain and frustration you're feeling now is nothing compared to when you're out on the streets with a bullet in your gut and fifteen bad guys shooting at you."
That right there was enough motivation for me. Having been shot I know that the reality of that pain is nothing to joke about.
But now we're back in the office. I have my Dunkin Donuts coffee in my hand and a croissant on my desk. There's no heat, dirt, water, mosquitoes, bunk beds, trainers yelling in your ear or five mile runs at 6am. Life is good.
Okay wait. Hold that thought. I see Tyler making his way over to my desk. Damn.
