That's right you're not from Texas

That's right you're not from Texas
That's right you're not from Texas
But Texas wants you anyway

Way back when Lieutenant Trouble was just AFROTC Cadet Trouble, he spent the better part of a July at Lackland AFB, as part of the 737th Training Group. During the day, he was as gung ho as any of them, pushing himself as hard as the trainers did.

At night, he bitched on the phone to me. About the heat, the humidity, the bugs, the snakes...

At approximately 0100 hours today, Lt. Trouble was back at Lackland AFB. He'll be undergoing PRK--the corrective eye surgery that will eliminate his need for glasses.

He called me this afternoon, after he went through a two hour examination, making sure he was an ideal candidate for the surgery. Tomorrow he'll have a two-and-a-half hour briefing on the surgery. The surgery itself takes about 45 seconds on each eye. Four hours and thirty minutes' worth of prep for a ninety second procedure.

His take on Texas was markedly different. "It's great," he told me, "there's grass, and trees, and flowers and stuff..." Part of his attitude change no doubt comes from not having to slog through leech-filled swamps, but since he's spent the majority of the past two years in one desert or another, the Texas atmosphere seemed much nicer to him.

Further news about Texas came from the El-Tee's baby sister.

Were you aware that Texas knows when you buy chips?

That's what she told me yesterday. Apparently, whenever we buy chips, the state of Texas is alerted. It what her teacher said. She didn't know if it was both potato and corn chips or not.

We'll find that out today, I guess.

Yeharr