What’s it like… over there?

The answers are as varied as the people who ask. There’s the new officer or enlistee, shipping shortly on their first deployment, who want me to put their mind at ease. There’s the curious stranger. And there’s the family member, who wants nothing more than to be lied to, or otherwise kept in the dark, so they can sleep easier at night.

I’ve often thought about putting words to paper, describing what it’s like. The challenges are numerous. To truly understand, like so many things, you have to be there. To have it make sense, you would need to have experienced at least some of it yourself. To allow it to be described, so much would have to be omitted due to classification. These are merely challenges, though. Let’s see what I can do.

It begins with something as simple as an Excel spreadsheet. A list of names, organized neatly by month. Constantly changing, because flexibility is the key to airpower. Eventually, my name is at the forefront, and that month arrives. There are two ways to take it. One is the obvious, the impending doom theory, as the day I leave draws near. The other is what most choose, the idea that they are finally going to be doing what they’ve been trained to do for so long.

I chose a career of service after September 11^th. I don’t pretend to think that day of days somehow caused an immediate effect. I didn’t run down to the recruiter. In fact, I slept through the whole thing. I had been up late building a computer, and awoke late to a note at the end of the hall, something to the effect of “turn on CNN.” I left for my junior year of college a few days afterward, and it was later that year that my computer science ambitions got derailed by assembly language and vector calculus. I withdrew from my classes, went home for Thanksgiving, and stayed there until after the quarter ended following Christmas. I returned to the university with a new plan. It turned out 20/20 vision wasn’t required to be in the Air Force. They also didn’t require a complex academic major. A Business Economics degree a year later, a flight physical, and an oath, and my path lay in front of me.

I’m not convinced that anyone at that age has a clear idea why they are choosing that path, and certainly not where it will take them. It is essentially a roll of the dice, and letting go of most of the ability to make decisions about their own life. When I graduated from Officer Training School in 2003, the war in Iraq was in full swing. As with all flying career fields, it wasn’t “if” I was going to deploy, but “when.”

It took a few years to get all the training done, and once fully qualified I joined the cause, getting rapid fired onto five back-to-back deployments to both Iraq and Afghanistan. I was assigned to fly gunships, planes with large side firing weapons attached that focused on close air support of ground troops, which was a challenge that suited me. Rarely did the time at home outlast the time away. It was actually while I was halfway through my 5^th that I was “informed” of a decision that had been made “on my behalf.” “Voluntold” as they call it. I was being transferred to a different unit, in a different state, to join a unit building a different weapon system on a similar aircraft from the ground up. While some might see it as an opportunity, for someone whose personality tends to resist change it certainly turned my world upside down.

It took two years for that weapon system to get up to speed, to the point both it and the people who fly it were ready to go. That meant two years continuously at home, which gave me a taste of what life is like for most everyone in America: to come home to my family every day, and not have to worry about how long until I leave again.

It was a ticking clock though. After delays, false starts, and eventually a solid timeline, I was leaving again. This time, for twice as long as ever before. A 6^th deployment, back to Afghanistan. When people hear the number six, they usually gasp. Then comes the look I dread, where they give me a reaction similar to when you realize a person’s family member passed away, or they broke up with their boyfriend. They feel sorry for me of course, but then comes awkwardness. They try to figure out how to thank me for my service, while simultaneously hiding their internal emotions regarding whether or not any of us should have to deploy at all. They know the fact I’m deploying isn’t my fault, and yet are so desperate to blame someone, to shout at something. They sometimes see inside me someone else they know. Honestly today, who doesn’t have a family member, friend, or friend’s family member who has deployed?

We call them our “deserts,” the tan colored or desert camouflage uniforms we wear overseas. While deployed, they feel normal, they look normal. At home, it’s like I came to school naked. Everyone stares, with that forlorn look on their face, as they try to think of what to say. As I’m driven onto the military base, the gate guard notices, and wishes me luck. The parking lot is a somber place. Bags being unpacked, wives and husbands leaning against their cars, brushing each other’s hair aside in the wind, and wiping each other’s tears. It’s a scene that has been played out in many movies. One leaves, and one stays. They never get it right. There’s no somber music in the background. There’s no extreme close-ups. Just people who are very, very, sad.

I always turn to look back, one last time. And she always waits until I do.

The trip over is a flurry of emotions. Initially, everyone is lost in their own thoughts. For some this is time away from their spouses, their children. Others will miss watching their newborn grow, or worse yet, miss their child’s birth altogether. The first thoughts are always of what is being taken from them. The price, as I refer to it. The price of a life of service has gone up dramatically in the past ten years. So much so that lives are affected negatively every day. Just look at military divorce rates, veteran suicide rates, or PTSD statistics, and it’s easy to find examples. It’s a wonder anyone gets on that plane.

But we do.

At the intermediate stop, we pick up extra gear we probably won’t ever use. Then endless waiting ensues until we board yet another aircraft. Some try to get on the right sleeping schedule based on when they’ll be working at their final location, whether it be days, nights or somewhere in between. Some migrate between the various movie locations, knowing odds are at least one of them will be showing something they haven’t seen. Even if they’re not, the theater tends to be the coolest room on the base during the hot summer months, allowing hours of blissful sleep during romantic comedies.

This layover is the first indication of being on an actual deployment, as the living is in tents, and the food is at dingy dining facilities. Somewhere between “here” and “there,” it is a place that all are familiar with, yet no one really enjoys. At the passenger terminal, scribed on the walls are the names of hundreds, thousands who have come before, and they all share the common bond of having passed through that room, onto aircraft that have taken them into hell and back again.

For me, the most physically aware I am is on final approach to my destination. Regardless of the type of aircraft, at some point during the flight, under the cover of night, they kill the lights, and have us don our protective equipment. Armor and helmets, because you just never know. Truth be told, up in the air is about as safe a place as there is in a warzone, but the “golden beebee” theory continues to be whispered in the halls. Sometimes it only takes one lucky shot by the enemy. While I will fly that same approach into that same airfield dozens of times per deployment, the first time is for some reason the one that worries me the most and my body’s fight or flight response tends to be in full swing.

Wheels down, and we’re safe. We’re in “good guy land” where the United States controls the airfield, and most of a wide swath of area surrounding it. Then comes bag drag. We all have a bunch, and those who have been there, done that, have it figured out. I use yellow duct tape, wrapped around all my bags with perpendicular crossing points, so I can distinguish my gear from the hundreds of others from a mile away. Usually some form of leadership has stayed awake, or gotten up early, or otherwise interrupted their schedule to come greet us, and help us haul our stuff. Eventually we arrive back at our “camp” which is essentially a cordoned off area of the base restricted to those of us who are “special.” It’s a place with a different set of rules, for a different type of people.

Much has been publicized in the news lately about this kind of people. They’re the ones who make the extraordinary, ordinary. As a result, they do what’s expected of them every day, with not the slightest insinuation that it ever deserves of a medal, ribbon, or any type of recognition whatsoever. With mantras that read like motivational crescendos, they are truly a unique type of personnel. While I am categorized among their ranks, I cannot consider myself as one of them.

Usually we arrive at the worst time, when the present crews are in the middle of their sleep cycle. Due to limited bunk space, we generally have to put three or four guys in a room instead of the usual two. The rooms are not exactly “spacious.” At this particular location, think seven feet wide (just wide enough to put your bed against the back wall sideways) and fifteen feet long. Cram in two bunk beds, and a couple nondescript dressers or wall lockers, and you have yourself a deployed living environment. It’s a guarantee that the door will have a dramatic creak to it, and thus whoever is senior, and/or more selfish, takes the back half of the room. Sometimes the furniture can be arranged to mostly block off the front half from the back, giving some semblance of privacy. Mostly though, we’re in each other’s business, all the time. The pairings are sometimes random, and sometimes based on who we fly with. After a twelve hour workday with a guy, even if you’re pretty good friends, you’d be amazed at how much you can come to despise their constant invasion of your world.

Then come the briefings. The ones that start with “how many of you have been here before?” which causes nearly the entire room to raise their hands, and the less obvious “how many of you haven’t?”. There are always some first timers, either young officers or even younger enlisted members, looking confused, and even a bit frightened about what they got themselves into. For the most part, the briefings serve as a refresher, based on what types of rules have been changed recently, to include rules of engagement, and the rules about where to dump the excess coffee from the bottom of the pot. At this point, due to transit time and everything that followed we’re usually pushing a 24 hour day. So they let us go crash, usually literally, slamming our bags around in our pitch black rooms, stumbling over other people’s stuff and cursing.

When time permits, we get a “ride-along” flight, where we fly with the experienced aircrew currently in place. Our respective counterparts for each flight crew position help us out, answering any remaining questions about the way we do business “over here.” This is all just bonus “training” because no one is allowed to deploy without meeting the required standards for knowledge and performance.

The next day, we’re on our own. Crews are arranged methodically, accounting for who’s new, and who isn’t. In some cases, strengths compensate weaknesses. In others, immaturity is compensated by adult supervision. It’s really a conundrum. If a person excels at their job, clearly knows their stuff, and is respected by everyone, they are basically guaranteed to be saddled with the complete opposite every time they deploy. No “dream team” is ever formed here. This is an all volunteer force, there is always going to have a variety of people, and capabilities. Managing the people is one of the challenges leadership constantly faces.

When it comes to morale activities, if you didn’t bring it with you or have it mailed, you don’t have it. Depending on the operations tempo, and possibly even more so the weather, there can be periods of excessive downtime. Ironically, this is when I hear the most people yelling over the morale phones. While deployed, we have one duty, and it’s to fly the missions. At home, everyone has additional responsibilities: paperwork, additional duties, family responsibilities, or trying to clear out the Tivo that’s been stacking up for weeks. Morale calls can unfortunately turn into tasking sessions, while those left at home try to communicate all their issues.

It’s no secret that time apart is difficult. Technology has certainly made it easier. If I haul my laptop over to the magical “MoraleNet” area, I am able to Skype with my wife. Sort of. When the connection doesn’t drop every ten seconds, or when I don’t get one frame per minute. Every once in a rare while we’ll get a solid connection, and for me that’s huge. I usually walk back to my room rubbing my face, because my “smiling muscles” are sore.

We’re managing this time around, and I’m sad to say it’s due to our experience. We met when we were both active duty, and due to my training commitments and prior to her being involuntarily separated from the service as a part of the “force shaping” measures, we did 832 days in different countries. During that time, we spent a total of about 60 days together, if including the six week training program where we met. After that, came the five deployments, and even during my two year stint “at home” after moving, a number of temporary duty assignments out of state as we tested and fielded the new weapon system. All told, we’ve been married for seven years, together for eight, and of that time we have spent somewhere in the vicinity of 1400 days apart. That’s nearly four years. Imagine everything you ever did in high school. Then picture that entire timeframe without your best friend. It’s tough to wrap the brain around such a massive amount of time in different places. The price of service.

While that may seem like a sad story, it’s nothing compared to the families that never get reunited. It’s the number one statistic reported by the media. Number of servicemembers killed during these operations. It has taken up a sidebar of nearly every periodical for as long as I can remember. Less often reported, probably due to the gray area in labeling and reporting it, is the number of wounded. Conservative estimates put that number in the tens of thousands. Every single one of them, has a lot more to worry about than time spent apart. Even those who have not yet made either of those lists are risking adding their name every day.

There are two battlefields in this war. The one on the ground, and the one in the air. It is no secret that the air war was won a decade ago. No enemy airpower has risen against us since. While I fly around inside various possible threat envelopes, the risk is minimal, and designed to be so. On the ground, different story. These guys strap on their armor, leave the sanctuary of their controlled territory, as small as it may be, and go out fully expecting to take enemy fire.

Troops in Contact. That phrase, commonly known as a “TIC,” has the ability to rouse aircrew from their meaningless slumber, grab what little information there may be (location, callsign, how to reach them), skid the crew vehicle across the parking lot, and haul ass towards the beast of an airplane. No one complains, no one whines, everyone knows that regardless of what they were doing when they got the call, what they are doing now is more important. I suspect it is similar to when the bell rings at a firehouse, or “officer down” comes over the police radio. It may have been fun and games five minutes earlier, but no one’s laughing now.

I once saw one of those motivational slides with a picture of my aircraft that stated “not so much a plane, as a flying castle of $#@%ing DOOM.” There are certainly more flowery ways to describe it, but it certainly gets the point across. In a nutshell, I have the ability to strike a target from thousands of feet in the air, potentially miles away. The optics allow me to see if someone is carrying a machinegun, or a garden hoe, from that same distance. It is a dramatic advantage over an enemy who has little access to technology.

At a TIC, the “airstack” as we call it, fills up quick. In order to keep all the aircraft from hitting each other, everyone gets an assigned altitude. For the fixed wing assets, this can stretch miles into the sky. The bottom tends to be reserved for assets like mine, to allow for easier strikes without having to move anyone out of the way. Even further below are the “helo guys.” Other than the boots on the ground, I rank helicopter aircrews as among the most badass individuals on the planet. Here I sit in my heated and air conditioned comfort way up in the sky, while these guys buzz treelines and houses, corralling bad guys back into play with their mere presence. As a result, the enemy takes more potshots at helos than any other air asset. The helo guys though, they just see that as a means to an easier solution. Based on rules of engagement, having a guy shoot at them makes it as black and white an issue as it could possibly be. Like I mentioned, before, it takes a special breed.

Initial voice communication with the ground callsign is like the opening kickoff. Everyone full of energy, ready to run down the field and unload on the enemy. We give them our information, tell them what we can provide, and they tell us what the problem is. Because of the time delay to get us there, sometimes the battle has already been waged, and won. In the more serious situations however, our mission is simple: Seek and destroy.

I’ve never glorified what I do. In my brain, I simplify it. There’s the good guys. They’re on my team. There’s the bad guys. They choose their team poorly. They are also in general trying to kill the guys on my team. It’s not like they’re trying to score a goal on us, or steal our girlfriends. Bullets are flying through the air, or improvised explosive devices are set up, with the intent to kill members of my team. I have the ability to prevent this, and I do not pass up the opportunity.

These aren’t grizzled veterans on the battlefield for the most part. The war is being waged by our youth, like it has so many times before. Each and every guy down there is a son first, a husband possibly, and in many cases a father. Each is tied to so many other people in the world, and I have the ability to help make sure he sees them all again.

I contrast my job with that of a factory toy maker. While he knows the hours of work he puts into every toy will be appreciated by a child somewhere, he does not necessarily receive that feedback all the time. When I land each day, I generally get a phone call from the team we supported, thanking us for what we did. Even if I don’t, I know that because of my efforts, a dozen or more families will be welcoming their loved ones home from war, and had I not done my job effectively, that might not have been the case.

The rest of the deployment is generally Groundhog’s Day. Wake up, work out, get a briefing, go fly, complete the mission, land, eat, relax, sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat, over, and over. Eventually, the count of days deployed starts to outnumber the days remaining. While schedules continue to flux, and you never really know what “that day” will be, you know it’s coming.

I’ve said it many times, that there is one good thing about deploying. Coming home.

I can’t even write about it without getting choked up. The support from everyone, the pilots who fly us home, the veterans who shake our hands at intermediate stops, and the random people at the airports, is indescribable. I’m hard pressed to think of a career that is as well respected by the general population as my own.

After what usually amounts to an oft delayed and prolonged journey, the plane pulls up to the hanger at our home base, and out the window we see the signs, balloons, and throngs of people. They have faced a similar challenge. It’s not easy to be the one who stays, yet they get none of the attention for their trials. The stairs to the aircraft lower, and out we come, in our deserts. Instead of wearing them awkwardly, we now wear them with pride. They are a badge of honor, showing that we’ve just done what amounts to a portion of our part for our country. The big wigs normally show up, shake everyone’s hand as we come down the stairs, putting in face time. What impresses me more are the others, the guys fifty years my senior, wearing hats showing that they too paid a price at one time, that they too chose a life of service.

There is associated risk with nearly everything anyone ever does during their lifetime. For those who choose a career in the armed services, that risk is certainly higher than most. But that isn’t the only cost.

One of the Air Force’s core values is “Service Before Self.” It is the service’s way of saying that regardless of individual wants or needs, the needs of the bigger organization take precedent. Usually, individual needs can also be accommodated by leadership, especially when it comes to some of the basic military benefits allotted to every service member. One of pluses when compared with civilian counterparts is the thirty days of leave allotted per year. For those who are too busy or otherwise unable to take the leave, we are allowed to stack up to two years worth, before it gets classified as “use or lose.” For members to even get to that stage, they have to have gone two years cumulative without taking a day off. During deployments, it goes without saying they don’t get weekends off either. The number of people I know with use or lose leave is simply staggering. When fighting wars on multiple fronts, with the acknowledged truth that you cannot mass produce certain types of forces, it is very difficult to find ways to give anyone a break.

As one of the fronts has drawn to a conclusion of sorts, the phrase “do more with less” has reverberated through the services. This means there will continue to be struggles by leadership to take care of their people, even as the deployed requirements are reduced. The reduction in forces over the past five years has shown that even those who have chosen to do their duty for twenty years until retirement, and accepted all costs associated, have at times been shown the door prematurely anyway, and lost all their benefits.

It was shortly before departing on this deployment that it fell into my lap. Sitting at a local Italian restaurant, I realized that as of the day before, my Active Duty Service Commitment had ended. Years are added for various things, from flight training, to changing bases, to becoming an instructor. As of that day, they had all expired, essentially meaning that at any time I could take a different path. Up to that point, I had no backup plan. The economy isn’t exactly prime for job hunting, and the profession of arms does not necessarily transfer much of its skillset to the outside world.

As it turned out, the company responsible for training the next generation of warfighters had an opening, and was looking for someone with operational experience to fill the slot. In something comparable to a whirlwind romance, I was soon staring at a job offer. A choice.

I have faced a few extremely difficult decisions in my life. Generally, they work out for the best. But you just never know. After a few stressful days, and a lot of soul searching, I found myself in my Commander’s office. I was saddled with the impossible task of explaining why, after almost nine years of dedicated service, I was choosing a different path in life from this point forward, completely unlike the path he had chosen for himself. His response was predictable. Rattled off everything I was giving up, all the potentially amazing future situations I would miss. My response was equally predictable, a laundry list of the situations that could turn out downright terrible. The risks, and the price, of service.

The Air Force has been a gigantic chunk of my existence. It has affected me in many positive ways, to include bumbling into my wife, and teaching me the importance and sanctity of life. It has also affected me in negative ways;missing holidays, getting leave cancelled, and never being able to plan my life in advance. The bottom line is the price of my service has become too high for me to choose to pay it, anymore.

Another popular catchphrase in the military is “the only one who cares about you, is you.” It’s popular, because it rings true. I am making this decision based on what is best for me, and my family. I still have a passion for what I do, and am committed to the project and weapon system as a whole. I look forward to teaching those bright eyed bushy tailed young lieutenants, eager to please, and yet deathly afraid I’ll swipe the wings right off their chest.

I see myself far in the future, pulling out my own wings from a drawer somewhere, or off of a shelf. While watching them sparkle under the light, I’ll think about the times I slipped the surly bonds of earth, the things I did while rocketing across the sky, and the lives I affected on the ground. I hope to eventually meet some of the warriors I supported, and share war stories about “back in the day.”

Then, I’ll set down those wings, and look around. I’ll see everything and everyone else that is a part of my life, and never take any of it for granted.

Someday someone, young or old, will ask me, “What was it like… over there?”

And I’ll tell them.

Random Update...

Yeah I know, a few years later... For some reason with my old template the archives had vanished, and since this blog is still a source of entertainment for at least myself, I had to update the template to a more default one in order to get them to come back. Maybe one day I'll blog again. Unfortunately, that day is not today. I am alive and well though so feel free to contact me if you're searching for something and I might be able to help. :)

One Year.

Has it really been that long? Every time I look at a picture of us from that day, the memories come flooding back. I forget what I’m doing, where I am, and I just get lost in my thoughts. She often says she wishes she could relive that day. In a way it’s bittersweet. I looked forward to that day my entire life, and after it passed I really didn’t know what to feel. And then, the phone will ring. My computer will beep, or a window will pop up. I’ll get a text message, or an e-mail. Or best yet, I’ll step off an escalator at an airport, scan a crowd, and our eyes will meet. I then realize that it wasn't just one day I was looking forward to - it was all the days that followed it as well.

It was always my intention to add to the post below, to help me always remember the week of a lifetime. It probably would have been easier if I put this into words long ago, and I’m sure I’ll leave a lot out. Better now than never anyway. The usual disclaimer of an insane level of gross loveydoveyness applies. Will there ever be a post after this? Never say never…

Let’s see, I left off in the back of the biggest limo I’d ever seen, much less been in. Part of my grand plan was to have my best man beat us to the hotel to make some arrangements, so he gave the driver instructions to circle the resort for a while. This gave us a chance to play with all the bells and whistles on the inside, and do a whole lot of staring at each other. I’m serious. After an entire day of being in crowds and constantly smiling or posing, it was quite a bizarre thing to have it suddenly be just us. I’m going to do everyone outside of the two of us a favor and leave out various details as I tell this story, though.

Upon arriving at the Grand Floridian where we were to spend our wedding night, I stepped out of the limousine and gave my wife a hand. Turning around, I spotted a very cute old man dressed up as a footman right out of Cinderella. Bounding toward us with a hand outstretched, he greeted us with a cheerful grin and placed into my hand a small map. We thanked him and continued into the hotel, following the path that the map was leading us on. It took us to a side portion of the building, into a hidden hallway, and to a special elevator. I should mention it’s pretty easy to be the center of attention when walking arm in arm with someone in a wedding dress. She was mistaken for a Disney princess more than once by a small child (“Mommy mommy look it’s Cinderella!”), which always put a huge smile on her face. We stepped out of the elevator onto our floor, and proceeded down the hall to room 4024.

The funny thing is, as we opened the door, I had inside knowledge as to what would be inside, and I was still floored. The room was lit by candlelight. They were everywhere. The first thing I saw after pushing the door open was the petals. Hundreds and hundreds of them scattered all over the room. As my gaze moved upward I saw all the candles, and after taking a few steps forward I saw the huge pile of gifts that had been transported to the room from the reception. And here for all the world to see I will admit to one of the few things I regret about that day. It was only when I turned around to see if she was as excited as me that I realized she was still standing out in the hall. I’d become completely lost in the moment and forgotten about one of the most longstanding traditions there is when it comes to the wedding night. Cursing myself internally and apologizing profusely externally, I hoisted my wife into my arms and carried her into the room. Then we saw the rest. On the table by the bed was an assortment of goodies, more food than either of us could eat in a week. To go with the petals that completely covered the bed, were hundreds of tiny candy hearts. Initially after putting her down we were like kids in Toys R Us. We both darted in different directions, picking stuff up and letting out yelps of delight. In the bathroom was a large Jacuzzi tub, where she discovered a large basket of those girly products all women love. I later learned a lot of it was chocolate flavored or scented, so I can’t say that I was too bothered.

My favorite part of this little discovery session was pulling back the curtain. Looking out over the docks and the Seven Seas Lagoon, perfectly framed in the window was Cinderella’s castle at Walt Disney World. It had been my only real requirement when choosing a room, and as she came over and her eyes doubled in size, I knew I’d made a good choice.

[insert a few hours of mushy gushy stuff here]

As I previously mentioned, a few hours later we did something most people don’t do on their wedding night. We watched the Super Bowl. As a reader you’re either cheering and praising my name which means you’re probably a man or booing which means you’re probably a woman. In any case, you have to realize that we’d been up since the crack of dawn that morning, and it was now becoming late in the evening. Having been wired continuously all day and now completely stuffed full of all the different kinds of food that were in the room (did I mention the chocolate covered strawberries?) it was pretty easy to find ourselves passing out earlier than average. At one point however we were interrupted by various dull booms coming from the window. Rushing to the balcony, we experienced something I’ve dreamed about for years. I’m a huge fireworks fan, and seeing the colored explosions above the castle while arm in arm with someone I love was a moment I cherished. We were also wearing our brand new robes, another discovery we’d made in the room. Incredibly fluffy and monogrammed with our initials (in her case “new” initials), we would spend a lot of time over the next few days relaxing in them. Unfortunately the robes and the room were so comfortable, she was definitely unconscious by halftime. And to keep you from thinking I’m a totally inconsiderate loser, I must admit I don’t even remember which two teams were playing, and after the commercials were continuously disappointing I ended up crashing myself soon after.

Hm, already babbled extensively and I’ve only covered half a day. I’m glad I gave myself a few weeks before our anniversary to write this… Comfy? Alright then.

The next day we woke late, as the only things we had planned for the day involved enjoying the gorgeous resort we were staying at. Our first reservation was at their amazing Spa. I forget the exact name, but we got some kind of couple’s treatment. On the way there we strolled along the beach between the resort and the Wedding Pavilion, where they hold like three weddings a day that are purchased through Disney itself, but were significantly outside the top end of our price range. It’s a good thing really, as I feel the way ours turned out was perfect for us, and I enjoyed being able to make all the decisions between the two of us rather than have a lot of it cookie cuttered for us. Along the beach I took some pictures of her chasing the flocks of seagulls, always a fun sight. The saddest part of the day for me was having to split up from each other for a few short minutes into our respective genders’ locker rooms to prepare for the massage treatment. Shortly thereafter though we were ushered into a candlelit room where there were two tables set up for us. An hour later we were forced to triple check the clock, not believing the time had gone by so fast. Rejuvenated and smelling of whatever oils they had used we wandered around a bit before eventually purchasing one of those real soft mushy pillows in the shape of a heart. Which reminds me, she’s been hogging it this whole time, I’ve never gotten to sleep with it unless I’m visiting… Although we were reluctant to leave, as was the case with many places we visited on our Honeymoon, we always knew that other amazing things lay ahead. On the way back to the resort we stopped by the pool, where they had a big twisty slide I immediately dove onto… She revealed she’d been wearing the “Mrs” tank top I’d given her as a present previously, and soon after removing her “Bride” hat I was tackling her and dragging her towards the manmade waterfall in the center of the pool. Definitely recommend trying to kiss through a strong waterfall, although you might be left with some bruises.

After various other shenanigans at the pool and back at the room eventually our stomachs went growl growl and we conveniently had a reservation at the resort’s premier five star restaurant, Victoria & Albert’s. This place was fantastic. The menu basically gives you two or three choices for each course, and it’s like a seven course meal. Although some are bite sized, it would literally be the best bite of anything we’d ever had. We tried to get different things each course, and that way we could share both and get the most variety. The other thing was all the courses were works of art, so you spent just as much time admiring as you did eating… Nummy nummy in our tummy. We were given menus with our names on them as keepsakes, and you can bet we’ll be returning if we’re ever in the area again.

Eventually after another great night of fireworks… outside… we went to sleep. And eventually, we woke up. We pulled open the curtain to see the fog rolling in off the lagoon, masking the park from view. It was pretty neat and one of the five million things I took a picture of during our stay. Then it was down the hall to more of the free concierge food… it’s amazing how good free food can taste. :) Then came the sadness of packing up the room as we were going to be moving back to the Shades of Green for the remaining nights of our Honeymoon, basically for the sole purpose of saving money. Shades of Green is a great resort in itself, and given the minimal amount of time we spent in the room it suited us just fine.

I’ll just hit the special moments we shared while touring the parks, as this has already become lengthier than planned. J Day one of our theme park journeys took us to the Magic Kingdom. We considered saving the best for last, but in reality every day was special for a continuous array of reasons. If there was one thing I loved about the whole shebang it was how we looked. Call me a huge dork, but imagine us in matching blue and red Mickey and Minnie thin sweater type athletic jackets, and of course to top it off I wore a top hat with Mickey ears, and she a pair of Minnie ears on a headband with a veil attached. There were really two types of reactions that we got from people we passed by. The obvious one, looks of people being nauseated. But for every one of those, there were a dozen others who would randomly remind us that we aren’t the only two people in the world. During our time together it was very easy for me to completely forget this fact, and we’d be moseying down the street and out of nowhere would come a raucous “CONGRATULATIONS!” from a passerby. We’d interrupt our conversation to thank them, and by the time we turned back to each other with these huge grins on, we’d forget whatever we were talking about before. I could tell that a lot of the couples who wished us well were reminded of the times when they were honeymooning, and I’m so glad we were able to bring happiness to them just by being ourselves. We continued our tradition of having “couple pauses” during which we’d stop whatever we were doing and just focus on each other for a few seconds or even minutes. It’s amazing how fast you can make screaming kids just disappear.

Lines weren’t all that short, but to be honest I was able to avoid being my theme-park commando self for the most part. No twenty page touring plan; spontaneity reigned. That’s part of what makes the little things shine through in my memory. Upon finishing our ride on Space Mountain, we were congratulated by the Cast Member and ushered into a hallway which led directly back to the boarding area, allowing us to ride again while skipping the large line. This was just one of the many times we felt like royalty. I’m telling ya, those ears are money.

One of our favorite attractions was called Philharmagic. It was one of those 3D glasses type movies like good ol Captain EO, but was themed around Disney music from the various features that have been produced over the years. The special effects were quite neat, and it basically turned into a half hour karaoke session for us. We ended up going back later to see it again since we had such a good time.

The dining scheme for the week was one thing I did put some planning into. For our meal at the Magic Kingdom I’d booked us a reservation well in advance at the incredibly popular Cinderella’s Royal Table restaurant. Unlike Disneyland, there is a restaurant within the castle itself with views over the kingdom. Which reminds me, one thing that did bother her were my continuous comparisons to the theme park near my hometown, but what can I say, I’m biased towards the original. J Back to the meal, this was yet another occasion of us stuffing ourselves beyond belief. I actually took one of my favorite pictures of my wife while sitting at the table, as she just randomly leaned forward with a smile. We ended up with a pair of champagne glasses with the insignia of the restaurant, to go along with the ones from the wedding that had our names and the date engraved on them. It was on the way out that she had yet another dream come true though. As we passed through the throne room a side door opened and out pops who else but Cinderella herself. Initially my wife was trembling and panicking, hiding behind me, but soon after that she was posing near the throne with one of her childhood idols.

We ended the night with the Wishes fireworks spectacular, but I’ll cover that a little later as we ended up seeing it another night as well. As we then returned to the hotel I should mention the housekeeping people there, who really made us feel at home during our entire stay. They recognized us from the time we’d spent there prior to and including the wedding, so there were various little things that they did to help us enjoy the little time we spent stationary in one place.

Day two of our adventures took us to the MGM Studios. Remember that I had never been to Orlando prior to this trip, so all of this was completely new for me. We ended up getting there shortly after opening, and I had a few minutes of commandoism return to me as we busted our way over to Tower of Terror to grab a Fastpass and then made a beeline for the Rock N Roller Coaster. This was my first time on one that had indoor inversions, and that initial launch was quite a thrill as well. At Tower of Terror we ended up getting a magnet with our picture on it. I put on a scary (looking) face and she clung to my arm, and with our ears on it was quite the Kodak moment.

Later we headed toward something I was excited about, the show “Who Wants to be a Millionaire.” Not too many people know that years ago when it was more popular and Regis was still the host, I made it all the way to the semifinals, one step short of being in the ten seats in New York. They’d already gotten my airport information and everything, it was down to under twenty potential contestants at that point. A series of “put these four things in order” questions was the last elimination round, and I’m nearly positive the one that dumped me was putting the four main Seinfeld actors in order by their ages. Apparently Jason Alexander is bald, but young. In any case, upon entering the studio we are given special cards and told to sit over in a separate section. Reading the cards it said something about being in a “Fastest Finger” seat so I’m instantly excited that I’ll finally get my chance to shine. As it turns out, these seats are just like any other, and everyone has an equal shot at getting into the hot seat. The one benefit was lots of big screen time, as we were sitting directly behind the host. At one point during the pre-show he was asking for applause, and as everyone was going nuts then said “Ok now just the honeymooners!” after which we let out a combination of screams yelps and various other sounds of uncontrolled eagerness. It got a good laugh out of the crowd anyway.

You would think that being singled out at that show would be enough, but it turned out that was just the beginning of a theme. As we entered the theater for the Indiana Jones Stunt Show, we were ushered through an area that had been previously blocked by a chain, and soon found us in VIP seating in about the 2nd row. This was already pretty neat, but a few short minutes later as they were taking volunteers of various categories, and we were jumping around doing our best to get noticed, apparently it worked as they asked for “Anyone on their honeymoon?” and as far as I could tell we were either the only ones, or we drowned everyone else out. After some quick “auditioning” on stage (we had to try to look scared, and given how much everyone was cracking up we must have been over the top or something) we get taken up to this costume area and threw on some Arab garb, and only have time for a quick comment on how ridiculous (read: cute) we both looked before we’re suddenly out on stage again in front of the massive crowd. This show is quite awesome to begin with just sitting in the theater, but being on stage as the gunfire and explosions go off around you is quite a thrill. After a few scenes they thanked us and we returned to our seats to thunderous applause in time for the finale. There’s a statistical saying I can’t seem to get right about how one time is a random occurrence, twice is an abnormality and three times is an impossibility when it comes to rare events, and when it came to VIP treatment during shows we ended up breaking all the rules during the trip as I’ll mention later.

Close to the time when the studios closed we happened to be walking past a building where Mickey was available for pictures, and it looked pretty deserted, so we decided to take our chances. Now you have to realize that although I’ve been a Disney fanatic for my whole life essentially, I had mentioned to her that I have zero pictures of myself with my hero. Lo and behold, at the end of a short line is the Mouse himself, and he was even in his Sorceror’s Apprentice outfit from Fantasia and later Fantasmic. My wife definitely wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass, and we had them snap a few of us while I wore this massive grin. Earlier on we’d gotten one of her with Minnie, so we were quite satisfied.

Then came more food, this time at a buffet that was part of a special deal that got you “preferred” seating at the showing of Fantasmic that evening. As it turned out the seating was well to the right of center, and I simply wasn’t satisfied, so I left her momentarily alone and went scouring through the areas that had been filled with people waiting for hours trying to find room for us. A big smile and a wave later and she was hurrying over to join me in about the 2nd row yet again, dead center. It was then I caught her eyeing a product on one of the carts where they were selling stuff down front. I’d say the purchase brought a smile to our faces, but it’s not like it wasn’t already there. You know those Mickey/Minnie big white gloves? Yeah, that really topped off our outfit. We would each wear one on the hand that wasn’t attached to the other person, and that was pretty much our getup for the remainder of the parks. Then came the show, and if you know me, you know I love Fantasmic. It requires every ounce of self-control to not stand up and conduct in time with the music and fireworks, or imitate Mickey’s every move. If you didn’t think I was a child trapped in a man’s body before, you do now. By the end of the night we were beginning to feel the effects of nonstop excitement for multiple days, but we knew we were only halfway to the theme park quadfecta. Guessing that’s not a word.

Third on the list was Epcot Center. Just thinking about walking into those parks for the first time is making my heart beat faster just like it did then. I just love amusement parks, and a new one means a whole lot of first time thrills and excitement. Personal favorites were Mission: Space and Test Track, the former of which was similar to a military centrifuge, and the latter of which was a whole lot of vroom vroom. The morning actually had some hiccups, it was initially drizzling which probably helped lighten the crowds, and minutes before reaching the front of the line at Test Track it broke down for quite a while probably due to the rain. Normally that would be quite a nuisance, but when you can just sit down and nap on each other’s shoulders, it’s actually refreshing.

We got a neat picture at the aquarium attraction, there was a scuba diver in the tank for a feeding, and he came right up to the window and motioned for us to kneel down next to him, so it looked like he had his arms around us. This was just a precursor though to our amazing meal at the Coral Reef restaurant, which is located within the tank and has one entire wall replaced with glass looking out at all the sea life. Again we stuffed ourselves, and again we had no room whatsoever for dessert. This doesn’t really mean anything when you’re on your Honeymoon though. You can tell them you’re not hungry, that you can’t even fit another bite, but you’re still in for it. Shortly after mentioning this, our waitress came to the table saying that I had a phone call, which initially was both puzzling and worrisome. I should have known better as I picked up the portable receiver they brought to the table, as it was Mickey Mouse’s voice congratulating us, and no sooner had he finished speaking than they placed in front of us a plate with a solid chocolate champagne glass filled with fondue, and a bunch of chocolate covered strawberries surrounding it. And it’s not like you can let them just sit there no matter how full you are.

At one point we were randomly walking through one of the interactive areas of the attractions, and this wonderfully cheerful elderly cast member came bounding up to us to wish us well, and went on for quite a while about how wonderful our lives were going to be together. He had a quirky name and unfortunately it eludes me after all this time, but he also ended up bringing us over to a phone on the wall and after dialing a secret extension and passing us the receiver, we were again greeted with a congratulatory message. At least this time I wasn’t worried about it being some kind of emergency. J It was characters like him though whose words reminded me how lucky I was, and am.

Eventually it was time for yet another night show, this time Illuminations. A large portion of Epcot surrounds a big lagoon, and it is in the center of this lagoon that the show takes place. Unlike most fireworks shows that send the shells high in the sky, the majority of the explosions at this one took place just above the water, making them look much larger and sound much more powerful. There were tons of awesome effects including huge fireballs, made possible because it was all over water and a distance from the crowds. The soundtrack was superb as well, and we thoroughly enjoyed the show.

One of the shops was called “The Art of Disney” or something of the short, and it had a ton of those animation cels you see at various places, basically works of art from all the different features. Up in a corner of the shop my wife spotted one that made her gasp and giggle. It was of The Little Mermaid, as she sits on a rock singing about being a part of Eric’s world, and the wave crashes up around her as the song crescendos. She used to sing that song as a child and even today more than any other. Pretty sure it’s her favorite moment from any movie. I used the relative steepness of the price to talk her out of it at the time, but I could tell how special it would be to her, and within a few months I had phoned up various numbers while in Texas and eventually got connected with the store, who were able to ship it to me so I could then forward it on to her in Germany. The look on her face when she opened it and realized the trouble I had gone to made it all worth it and then some.

Unfortunately afterwards was one of the literally count on one hand sour moments of the whole trip. While walking out of a store we’d been browsing in, my wife took one step across the threshold and was immediately run over by this woman in one of those mechanized carts. She must have been doing at least 10mph down the sidewalk right across a bunch of doorways, I guess hoping no one would come out at that time. After mumbling to herself she eventually pushed on without a word, meeting up with family members several yards away and through hand gestures towards us and loud verbal complaints obviously insisting it was my wife’s fault. This soured my wife’s mood quite a bit, and unfortunately we were also passing through the area of Epcot devoted to the country of Germany, which just ended up serving as a reminder to my wife that at the end of the week, she and I would be going our separate ways yet again, for an amount of time yet to be determined.

I don’t think she said anything to me for the entire walk out to the front gate, but it was there that luck shined upon me once again. As we were heading for the car she grabbed my arm and stopped me, and following my gaze I saw a young man looking into a woman’s eyes, and as we both stared he got down on one knee and opened up a small box. As she covered her mouth with her hand and nodded, he pulled from behind his back and underneath his coat a Minnie hat with a veil and placed it on her head. There was loud applause from everyone who had stopped to gawk, and when I looked back at my wife there was a tear in her eye. Wherever you are dude, nice work, and thanks. J We were stopped by yet another photographer shortly thereafter, but he took this great shot we ended up purchasing of us in our jackets hats and gloves arm in arm in front of the large sphere that houses Spaceship Earth.

Another seemingly quick nap later and it was time for the final park, that being Animal Kingdom. It had been quite some time since I’d been to a zoo, so seeing all the major animals up close was quite a cool experience. The safari into the back area of the park was quite exciting, you never knew when you’d just randomly run into an elephant. One of the rides we went on was based on the movie Dinosaur and just like a scene out of Jurassic Park, it was amazing. I’m not sure if my wife was squealing because she was genuinely scared or she was enjoying herself, but luckily it helped mask my own girlish screams. There was also another 3D glasses show based on A Bug’s Life which actually had some awesome effects “4th dimension” effects that got the audience involved. I won’t spoil any of them for those who haven’t seen it, but all of those 4D shows you see at the various theme parks are really a good time and worth the wait.

It seems like I should have more to say if I fit all the highlights into one paragraph, but I guess that’s because we didn’t end up on stage at any major shows… Dinner was at The Rainforest Café, which is actually a national chain and always good for a big meal. Our strategy for eating in the parks was mostly snagging a churro or two during the day and then gorging ourselves in the evenings, and the Honeymoon 5 or 10 or whatever were certainly the most enjoyable pounds I’ve gained, ever. Although our energy level continued to sag a bit, there was no major night show so we ended up getting more sleep than average.

We had decided to spend the last full day of our Honeymoon outside the parks, relaxing in various other ways. One of the things we did was go invade the pool at Shades of Green that’s shaped like Mickey’s head, and act like kids again. We did everything I used to do during cross country driving trips, from cannonballs, to using each other’s shoulders as a launcher, to diving for coins, and everything in between. Even “taxi” rides, where you ride on each others backs and go around turns and into dips that end up submerging both parties. Basically just enjoying the water and the sun, and loving life. We later walked in our robes over to the gazebo, and stood as we had nearly a week before, in slightly different outfits. Something tells me we’ll be back to relive that moment again and again.

You can only keep me away from theme parks for so often though, especially if they’re so readily available. We decided the best way to end the trip would be to see the night shows again, all back to back to back. This would require some legwork as they were at something like 8 then 9 then 10pm, so given they were around a half hour each and it was about a half hour to get between them. First up was Fantasmic, which we ended up walking into just before the start, when there was only standing room only near the very back of the ampitheatre. We’re standing there looking forlorn when all of a sudden I’m grabbed by the wrist and we’re being led over towards one of the stairways. The Cast Member speaks a few words to this large burly guy basically along the lines of “Find them seats now!” and he goes galumphing down the stairs two at a time and basically pushing people way down below over away from the aisle, and after waving us down we suddenly found ourselves that’s right, 2nd row, dead center. We felt kind of sheepish getting all the extra attention, but it’s not like we were complaining either. Unfortunately part of my strategy since we’d already seen it once was to sit further up so that we could escape right at the end and get out of the park fastest, and being so far down made that impossible. Being in such a hurry foreshadowed another of the few sore spots of the trip later on.

Next up was Illuminations, which again was an amazing show I highly recommend seeing at least once, and which I recently acquired a video of online and even that still gives me chills. With two shows down and just the fireworks at the Magic Kingdom to go, there I am getting off the monorail and flying down the escalator at full speed, trying to get to a prime viewing spot in the park as fast as possible, when around the corner of the escalator totally out of nowhere comes this small kid barreling in from the side right across the opening. With no way to stop and arms flailing I basically end up kneeing this kid in the side of the head and sending him flying, and within a millisecond his mom is threatening me with all sorts of garbage. My wife (who probably would have suffered the same fate had she been first down) was quite displeased with the result regardless but I was again impressed with how quickly we were able to move on from it and zip into the park.

Fireworks are one of my favorite things in the world. Always have been, always will be. Unfortunately this show while being one of the typically amazing ones I’d seen at a Disney them park, was also very bittersweet. It was a sign that the Honeymoon was coming to an end. And neither of us was ready. The opening bars to the song that opens the show are as follows:

Star light, star bright
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might
Have the wish, I wish tonight
Now make a wish, and do as dreamers do
And all our wishes, will come true.

My arms were wrapped around her, and when I raised one to wipe my eyes, at the same time she used my sleeve to wipe hers. I’d dreamed my whole life about standing in front of the Disney castle watching the fireworks with someone I loved, and not only was it happening, but it wasn’t going to be the last time. How many times do we wish as we blow out the candles, blow the leaves off a thistle, or wish on a shooting star. Always for something that would make us eternally happy. How many people can say they got what they wished for?

Right now it looks like in June of this year after about seventeen months of marriage we’ll finally be moving into the same house. All combined including the Honeymoon we’ve spent about four weeks of our first year together, and we’re looking to raise that average. They say you’re supposed to give a gift involving paper according to the traditional list of anniversary gifts, so I’m going to be printing this out and giving it to her as we celebrate our anniversary in a few short days. To this point I’m pretty sure she has no idea I’m even writing it. We decided to celebrate our first anniversary back in Florida, with a Disney Cruise to the Bahamas, so I’m sure we’ll be reliving all of these moments and creating countless new ones.

I could write more about a tearful goodbye at the airport. I could write about the security checkpoint and potentially missing a flight being the only thing that could separate us. I could write more about how impossible it is to marry your one, your only, and then kiss them goodbye for months. I don’t know about you, but that’s all a bit depressing, and no way to end a story about the week of a lifetime. Instead, I’ll end with some words that I’d listened to countless times, but never really heard until standing there beneath the fireworks with my wife.

Like a bolt out of the blue
Fate steps in and sees you through.
When you wish upon a star
Your dreams come true.

See the post of August 8th below for what was to be the final addition to this blog. After some deliberation I have decided to add one more, to finish the story.

Perfect.

Chasing perfection is a lifelong goal for many people. The concept of a perfectionist is someone who is only satisfied with a 100% score, or doing everything to the absolute best of their ability. When it comes to subjective topics however, like how amazing or wonderful a day or week might have been, it’s difficult to decide what “perfect” is. Well, it was difficult to decide until last week.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Ira J. Husik award winner for JSUNT class 05-05 is… 2d Lt Matthew Wilson.” And so it ended. Nearly a year in the making, I was now staring down at a silver pair of wings on my chest. I’d also been given the award as the top navigator graduate in my class. Although my training at Randolph is now complete, the Air Force story is just beginning. Up next is Survival on March 7th, at Fairchild AFB, which will lead right into Water Survival on March 28th at NAS Pensacola. Then comes a three month hiatus during which I’ll probably be on casual status here at Randolph doing who knows what. July 13th is when I finally make my way to Little Rock AFB for C-130 training. After graduating there November 2nd, I’ll head to Kirtland AFB for training in my new airframe, the MC-130P. After four months at Kirtland I’ll finally PCS to my first duty station, RAF Mildenhall. It was my top choice, and my wife and I are looking forward to finally being collocated sometime in early 2006. Oh, did I say wife? I guess I better continue to clarify.

When last I left you I’d asked the most important question of my life, and received the answer I’d dreamed about. Although six months passed, it really does seem like a blur. I was deep in training, worried about my class rank, whether I’d get my top choice of plane or location, and was mired in the infamous wedding planning process. I’ll spare you the details, and skip ahead, to my alarm going off.

The young man instinctively and automatically reached his right hand to his left wrist and hit the indiglo button on his watch. The beeping ceased immediately, and he momentarily paused in that space between being asleep and awake. Only for a moment . Opening his eyes, he did not see the familiar ceiling of his apartment, and the blue glow from his space station of a computer. Confused for a split second, his mind raced to figure out where he was. The answer came easy. The Shades of Green Resort in Orlando, Florida. In an instant his mind poured out the rest of the relevant information. It was 0700. February 6th 2005. He was in room 5109. And somewhere down the hall, his fiancée was deep in preparation for the most important day of both their lives. By noon, they would be married.

It’s easy to describe the way I felt as I eventually climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom to begin my own somewhat simpler preparations. It was like waking up on the morning of a trip to Disneyland, or a graduation ceremony, or a birthday. There’s that extra excitement, and it’s that much easier to wake up and get the adrenaline flowing. That day in particular, I had no shortage of energy. As I performed the minimal tasks required for a man to look his best, or at least acceptable, I couldn’t help but smile at my reflection in the mirror. Disbelief is one of the most profound emotions I felt that day. It was really happening. I’d asked someone to be my wife, and they’d said yes. By the end of the day I’d be wearing a ring, signifying that someone loved me as much as I loved them. I had never been sure or even confident that the day would ever come, and here it was. I truly was the luckiest man in the world.

The tux fitting had gone smoothly, so there were no last minute fixes necessary. I’d chosen the two button variety, with a fullback vest. While the groomsmen and my father all wore the long four-in-hand tie, it was solely myself who was to wear a bow tie. I always liked the look ever since my high school prom, and was very happy with the way it turned out. It was as I put on the vest and tie that some of the nervousness began to set in. I wasn’t just a groomsman getting ready to stand to the side while a couple got married. It was me that was in white. I was to be the center of attention, with a hundred pairs of eyes staring at me. Well, at least until the Bridal Chorus started playing. My best man had arrived by that time, and as he helped me tighten the tie we revisited a joke I’d used at his wedding a few months prior, that of asking the question of whether his feet were not just cold, but “frigid.” In reality, I couldn’t wait. I had no doubt that my fiancée was indeed my perfect match. I’d announced to her previously that if necessary, I would chase her down and tackle her, dress and all to prevent her from escaping the ceremony. She continuously convinced me that she would not be running away.

The photographer stopped by, and we agreed to meet down in the lobby with the other groomsmen to get me out of the way of the proceedings down the hall. After having various family members run interference and get clearance to proceed, we headed for the elevator. I felt like I had my own secret service, complete with people yelling “THE EAGLE HAS LEFT THE CAGE” into earpiece microphones. The maids all beamed at me as I passed; apparently they’d been tipped off that the groom would be the one in the bow tie, although the color scheme should have made it obvious as well. After various pictures with the photographer, the groomsmen headed to the little restaurant down the stairs towards from the front of the hotel from the lobby, and basically just sat around chatting it up for a while. I’d only had a muffin for breakfast up in the room, but eating apparently wasn’t on my body’s agenda. As 9:30 approached we moved back upstairs so the groomsmen could move into position, and many of the guests began to arrive. It was as I greeted the high school and college friends of mine that had made the journey out to Orlando just to attend the wedding that I started getting even more nervous. These weren’t various relatives of my fiancée that I’d never met, these were people who knew me well. I can only imagine how shocked they all were when I told them of my engagement. It certainly wasn’t “in the books” for this to happen so quickly, but it had. My aunt, who was performing the ceremony, arrived at the lobby and we all started walking downstairs and outside to where the ceremony would be held. They had a gazebo on property which had been set up for the event, with a long paved walkway through various flowers, gardens, rocks, and ponds leading to it from the area outside the elevators. It was at the end of this walkway that I was to remain until called upon near the start of the ceremony. The bridal party was to traverse the hotel to the far end from my position, and eventually appear from that doorway a few hundred yards away. As I stood there by myself as the minutes ticked by, I spent most of the time rehearsing my vows. We’d decided to write our own, and had absolutely no knowledge of what the others would be like. We’d also decided to memorize them, which was a bit intimidating having never practiced them in front of a live person. I must have gone over them in my head about fifty times while I stood there. Guests continued to arrive, and I could see everyone slowly making their way to their seats.

It was as I paced back and forth that I almost made a huge mistake. Glancing at my reflection in the nearby large window, my vision momentarily focused on what was on the other side. All I saw was the color lilac in various forms. Knowing this was the color of the bridesmaids dresses, I immediately covered my face and turned away. The various exasperated screams I heard moments later through the wall confirmed my fears. They had started making their way to the other end of the hotel, but had taken the only set of elevators to the first floor first, and thus were passing by my position on the interior just as I happened to glance in that direction. Thankfully, I saw no white, although she later said that she got a glimpse of me. The helpful thing about the near fiasco was I now knew that the ceremony would soon begin, and my heart rate began to quadruple.

Eventually my aunt motioned towards me, and I began the seemingly marathon walk to the gazebo. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were all lined up on the opposing walkway, and I took the few short steps with my aunt to the gazebo to take my position. As I clasped my hands in front of me I could feel them shaking, although I don’t think it was visible. Soon afterward the harpist started playing inside the gazebo, and I remember the sound being quite soothing as it echoed underneath. I glanced throughout the guests, and received many a smile as I made eye contact with them. They say everything goes by really fast when you’re up there, and they aren’t kidding. I had barely blinked before the first pair of attendants was making their way up the aisle. Soon after came the rest, with my sister and brother being among them. I’m sure they more than anyone were flabbergasted that they were attending their brother’s wedding before he turned thirty. Next came the flower girl and ring bearer, who were the cutest little things you ever did see. It was while my focus was distracted on them that I suddenly became aware that the song being played was now the Bridal Chorus. My gaze darted to the left, where I realized my fiancée had already come through the doorway where she’d been hidden and already traversed a dozen yards down the walkway toward the aisle runner. I distinctly remember the first time I saw her, even though she was still a hundred feet away.

I now have the impossible task of describing how she looked. After a few attempts, getting frustrated, leaving this document alone for a couple days, coming back, and continuing to realize how futile a task it is, I’ve come up with this.

One word seems to fit more than all others. Stunning. I have five senses, one of which is sight. That sense has never been as overwhelmed as it was in that moment. All sound, scent, taste, and feel left me instantaneously. All I could do was see, and all I could see was her. She was my bride. And a perfect bride she was.

Although I continued to stare at her unblinkingly, she continued to move towards me, eventually coming within arms reach. Taking her arm in mine, we made the final few steps together towards my aunt. Looking over at her, I could see that my nervousness was not alone. You all have been to probably many a wedding, and you probably know how they go. There were a few moments during the ceremony that meant a lot to both of us however. These were the times when I’d feel her hand or arm squeeze mine a little tighter, or I’d slowly place the sign language I love you that we use so often on her forearm or elbow. The first was “I do” as we made our pledge to each other. It all passed so quickly however, that in no time at all my aunt was prompting my fiancée to begin her vows. After a few deep breaths, she looked up into my eyes, and began.

“Growing up I would wish on shooting stars, lucky pennies and pretty much anything and everything for someone to come along who would love me as much as I would love them. I found that person in you Matt. I didn’t know it when I met you, but later I realized not only had I found my best friend but my perfect match. You showed me a whole new world when you asked me to be a part of yours and I’d like to share a song which I feel expresses what I’m trying to say. [she sings] ‘So this is love, hmm mmm hmm mmm… so this is love… so this is what makes life divine… I’m all aglow, hmm mmm hmm mmm… and now I know… the key to all heaven is mine… My heart has wings, hmm mmm hmm mmm and I can fly… I’ll touch every star in the sky… So this is the miracle that I’ve been dreaming of, hmm mmm hmm mmm… hmm mmm hmm mmm… so this is love.’ Matt this is my simple vow to you, I swear in front of God and everyone present to love you forever and beyond.”

I was utterly absorbed in everything she was saying until she began to say the last line that we’d agreed to share. I suddenly remembered that it was my turn. For the life of me, I couldn’t even remember the first word of my vows. Panic began to set in as my eyes glazed over and my brain cells searched the far reaches of my mind. Within seconds my eyes refocused on my fiancée however, and like orange juice into a glass, the words just seemed to flow.

“Soon after we met, I found myself in endless classes sitting right next to you. I had little interest in the subject matter, and a lot of interest in writing little notes back and forth. One note in particular I’ve kept to this day. During one of the many times I was staring at you when you weren’t looking, I was inspired to write a poem. ‘There she stood in the doorway. What held my gaze I cannot say. Her eyes crinkled with every smile, it made me feel warm for quite a while. It was wonderfully nice when she touched my hand. I felt I was the luckiest guy in all the land. Alas soon she will go somewhere far. Somewhere I can’t even reach by car. What will happen then, who really knows. We’ll find out if across the Atlantic, only water flows.’ Thankfully as we’ve learned since then, love transcends all physical boundaries. When I was a young boy I had a life to do list of sorts, a list of everything I wanted to see or do during my life. At the very bottom was my most important goal, my mission for life. It was three small words. Find the one. Mission accomplished. I’ll follow you anywhere, through the good times and bad, because as far as I’m concerned, I exist to be with you. And only you. Cheryl, this is my simple vow to you. I give you my word, that I will love you forever, and beyond.”

As I spoke the last few words, I could feel my eyes welling up. I ran my thumbs along the edge of her hands as I held them in mine, and I could see that she was holding back as well. The pressure off of both of us, we relaxed and became absorbed in the rest of the ceremony, not wanting to miss a moment. Soon after came one of our favorite parts, the line “with this ring, I thee wed.” We both managed to find the right finger, and they slid on with relative ease. What seemed like a instant later I was given the greatest permission a man can receive. “You may kiss the bride.” Slowly I lifted the veil that had lightly covered her face to this point, and placed it behind her head. Then came the most overly rehearsed and yet sweetest kiss we’d ever shared. All that was left was a turn to face the audience, an announcement that she’d picked up a new last name, and off we went. We walked back to where she’d been hidden prior to the ceremony, and I could tell we were both breathing deep sighs of relief. We started practicing our new vocabulary words. Wife. Husband. Married. It was then that I finally got a chance to attempt to describe how perfect she looked, although with little preparation time I didn’t do as good a job as I would have liked. We shared only a few precious seconds alone before we were surrounded with the wedding party and photographers, but I treasured them. Then we were escorted back outside for about a gazillion pictures, all of which you can see online through the photographer’s site. Near the end of this process was when I rediscovered my stomach, and we eventually made our way in to try the various edible materials. In between being greeted and greeting the various guests in the area outside of the reception ballroom we managed to swallow a few chicken fingers and other appetizers whole.

We didn’t have much time however, as a few short minutes later came the fifteen seconds of fame all newlyweds love. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome for the very first time, Matthew and Cheryl Wilson!” The rousing cheer actually surprised me, I was expecting loud, but not that loud. Alas the party had just begun as we took our seats at the center of the head table.

Did I mention the food? Unfortunately I’d totally stuffed myself silly on the stuff outside the ballroom, which by the way was tremendously yummy. That was kind of a shame, as the meal we had arranged inside was just as good if not better. Caesar salad which has become my favorite kind, and as a main course both sirloin and crabbed stuffed shrimp which just made me say mmm mmm good. Eventually though after beating my stomach back into submission it was time for the glasses to be charged. Although champagne was spread throughout the ballroom to all the guests, it was in fact orange juice that graced the glasses of the happy couple. Long story behind that one, those who read the proposal story will catch on. It was then the best man’s time to shine. He’d been extensively nervous for the previous hour or so, but he definitely got a lot of laughter out of everyone as he mentioned how when he’d first told me he was getting married I’d said I wouldn’t be getting married until AT LEAST 28. That and my wife must be someone special to get me to change my mind that fast. I made a large snapping motion in the air to confirm his point. Up next was the maid of honor, and although she had a speech prepared it quickly became an emotional moment for everyone. My wife was the first daughter married in her family, so it was easy to realize that although they weren’t saying goodbye forever, it was like the end of a chapter in their lives together. This was even more prevalent when the father of the bride came up to the microphone. Obviously I can’t begin to fathom what it must be like to be the father of a daughter who’s getting married. The love in their family is one of the deepest I’ve ever seen. It’s difficult for me as a newcomer to just instantly feel a part of a family I’ve only known a year, but honestly I’ve never felt more welcomed by anyone’s family outside my own in my entire life. From the first time I met them a few weeks into our relationship, they’ve treated me like anyone would want to be treated. Although at times I felt the pressure of trying to impress everyone at once, in reality it came naturally. All I had to do was love their daughter more than anything, and they could see that no one would take better care of her than I. That doesn’t make letting go any easier however. Although she’d obviously left for college several years ago, and eventually left to join the Air Force and has resided in Germany for over a year, this was yet another kind of goodbye in a way. I felt kind of helpless during their toasts, as there was no real way I could show anyone that as sad as everyone was to “lose” their daughter, in fact she would remain their daughter for the rest of her life, and I had simply assumed responsibility for taking care of her for the rest of mine. As I looked around the room though, it was obvious that everyone was happy for us and could see that the love we share is genuine.

After the toasts I made another attempt to squash in a little more food, and then it was time for my other favorite part of the reception, the infamous first dance. It had been an easy choice of song for us. She’d sang it to me when we revealed our love for another over a year ago, and it had played again just prior to my proposal. I still get goose bumps whenever those first few bars of Etta James’ At Last begins to play, and that day was no exception. I took her hand in mine and led her out to the center of the long dance floor that stretched down the center of the room from the double doors to the head table, and as we embraced and began to sway, the world melted away. I really can’t describe how cute my wife is at point blank range, but I certainly enjoyed spending a few minutes in close proximity. It was only later in the song that I realized the amount of flashbulbs that were going off, but it didn’t affect me in the slightest. It’s funny how short songs can be when you don’t want them to end. Alas eventually there was a dip, a kiss, and as the song ended I raised her hand to my lips, looked into her eyes, and touching my lips to her fingers tried to act as prince-like as possible.

After that came well, a lot more stuff. But you all have been to weddings before. There was the father daughter dance, the mother son dance, the bouquet toss, the garter removal/toss, and at some point it was finally time to eat cake. :) Our elaborate three tiered Mickey shaped cake was a trio of luscious flavors. At one point I managed to finagle my way into having a plate of all three in front of me, and would take a little nibble off of each as time passed. I should mention we both managed to feed each other part of the cake in a kind fashion, without resorting to immature tactics as is so common these days. At some point around this time was when I stepped on her train, ripping the loops that keep it pinned up behind her, causing her to have to carry it over an arm for the remainder of the day. Alas, always the klutz.

Ooh, I guess I should at least attempt to describe the décor. Each of the tables was a theme from a Disney movie involving romance in some way. Lady and the Tramp plushes were part of the centerpiece for one table, Aladdin and Jasmine on another, and so forth. The rest of the centerpiece was this sort of donut shaped glass bowl allowing you to see into the middle, where there were flowers and candles floating in water. Was a neat effect, and allowed people to see across the table without having to talk through anything. Then of course there was tons of Mickey shaped confetti in our color scheme of purple/blue, as well as plenty of chocolate in the form of both the little nuggets with our names on the wrappers and the full size Hershey’s cookies and crème white chocolate ones mmmmmm. Unfortunately in all the hubbub I didn’t have time to eat as much candy as I would have liked. The head table was of course themed Mickey and Minnie, and their plushes hung out in the center adorned in their wedding attire. I was honestly flabbergasted with the way everything came out. You see all the parts and wonder how it will all come together, and it was just gorgeous. In six months my wife and I (she did a majority of the work) had managed to pull it all off.

I must say when the call for the last dance came I was mixed with feelings of surprise and sadness on the inside, as I knew that this part of the day was coming to an end. Those feelings lasted about four seconds though, as I then turned and saw my wife coming towards me with the biggest smile on her face, and I instantly forgot about whatever I was thinking about prior to the smile. One more taking of her hand, one more slow rotation of our combined person, one more song. But actually, not one more. Simply one of countless that we will share through the years.

The guests all lined one of the pathways leading to the road outside, and all were armed with rose petals as we prepared to make our exit. I was personally pelted point blank by many a person, and barely made it uninjured to the waiting limo. Well I say limo, when in reality it was a Hummerzine that showed up to whisk us away. A welcome “free upgrade” as it was later discovered to be, my first limo ride ever turned out to be top of the line. After helping her in and climbing in myself, all that was left was a few more pictures, a few more waves, a few more goodbyes, and we were gone. The day of a lifetime was over. The night of a lifetime was not.

Well, this post can’t go on forever. I’m going to pre-date it with the date of our wedding. I had intentions of including our entire weeklong honeymoon in this post, but the task has proved to be more complicated than expected. It seems so often these days I run out of words to describe the things I’ve seen and done. Will this be the last? I won’t promise anything. :)