Kimchi Chronicles – October 2004
There’s a tiny car that’s been running around base. It’s about a 1/4th the size of a real car and I keep catching it out of the corner of my eye, making a turn or speeding off into the distance. For several weeks now I’ve been frantically trying to flag it down. If anyone reading this at Yongsan sees this tiny car, flag it down for me. In it is about thirty clowns and one of those bastards is running this circus I work in… and I want to talk to him!!
We recently finished the biggest military exercise of the year here in Korea. The purpose of this exercise is to improve the skills of leadership in conducting a major theater war. These skills are apparently tested by the ability to move dots around a computerized map.
The exercise war is a titanic struggle between a mass of red dots, against a mass of blue dots. The red dots are controlled by the Simulation Center, which is manned by what I imagine to be evil people with receding hairlines and bad teeth who cackle gleefully every 15 seconds while typing madly at their computer terminals. The blue dots, based on my observations, are moved in an entirely different manner…
My theory is that there is an incomprehensible algorithm run by hidden, top secret miniature super-computers that calculate many, many variables to move the blue dots around. These variables seem to include the volume of shouting, the amount of arm waving and finger pointing, the rank of those shouting, waving their arms and finger pointing, the number of people cringing from all of the shouting, waving of arms and finger pointing, and finally, the number of phone calls made to the operations floor to find out what all of the shouting, arm waving, and finger pointing is all about.
From what I could tell, our leadership really needs to work on their shouting, arm waving and finger pointing techniques, because all of this seemed to result in missing blue dots or blue dots that didn’t move when they were suppose to, or blue dots miles off from where they were suppose to be. But, dots be damned, the leadership declared the war won at the proper time and we all got a well deserved break after working 14 to 16 hour shifts for two weeks!
I was on night shift during the exercise. The smoke break area was moved from it’s normal concrete pad area to a small clearing in the woods just up a flight of stone stairs. Only once did I go to the smoking area while it was still light prior to my shift. While up there, a tall stern looking Army Master Sergeant loomed up from stairs with a determined look on his face and a hammer in his hand. He walked up to a rock, the visible portion of which was about the size of an American football. He knelt down, and began wailing on it with his hammer for all he was worth.
TINK!! TINK!! TINK!!
All conversation in the smoking area ceased, as everyone stared at this grim Sergeant who seemed as if he was trying to focus the wrath of the entire world upon this rock.
TINK!! TINK!! TINK!! TINK!! TINK!!
Finally, one brave Senior Airman approached the Master Sergeant, hand held in front of his face to ward off the flying rock chips. He asked what he was doing. The Master Sergeant then explained, very loudly, that every night he comes up here to smoke in the pitch dark… and damn near kills himself tripping over that rock.
I don’t have the best opinion of the Army after working with them here, but you’ve got to love their “Just get the job done,” attitude. I don’t know if he ever completely destroyed that rock, as the next night they moved the smoking area back down to the concrete pad.
Speaking of the Army, they must have heard about the whole “too skinny for the PT test” thing and decided that they couldn’t let the Air Force show them up like that. I was directed by my unit to get a military drivers license. So I go take the test about signs and rules and such and pass it. They told me to come back at 1:30 for a safety video. I’m thinking, cool. 15 minutes of safety crap and I’ll be done with this. Boy was I ever wrong.
After the cheesy safety video we get to watch a half hour video on motor pool procedures and proper disposal of hazardous waste. Err… OK… now what the hell does that have to do with driving? Anyway, after that was another video that dispensed previously unknown facts such as the one that it actually snows here in Korea, and that makes the roads more dangerous! Imagine that!
So now I think I’m done. Then a paper is put in front of me that says “Physical Profile.” On it are various numbers and blank spaces with headers like, “Reaction Time,” “Vision,” “Field of View” and… oh wonderful… “Color Perception.”
They couldn’t ask me this stuff prior to me wasting all day here? According to the Air Force, I’m something/something color-blind. This particular type of color blindness makes it look like you are completely color blind when taking only the standard test.
So dude brings up the little book with the circle of colored dots in which I’m to see numbers in the dots. “Say the numbers,” he says.
“38″
*flip*
“Err… nothing.”
*flip*
“Umm… nope.”
“You see colors?”
I briefly consider telling him that I see colors just fine but that my particular problem is that I’m number-blind. Seeing as English is his second language I decide he probably wouldn’t get the joke, so I just shake my head.
He fails me on the color test, has me complete all the other tests, then tells me, “You go hospital. Get eye test before license.”
So I grab my Physical Profile paper, unsigned, and head out to the reception area. The receptionist has been replaced by a clown. It’s not the clown who’s running this circus. I can tell because it’s one of those frowny clowns and not a smiley clown. She asks for my paper and I hand it to her while saying, “Yeah, I’ve got to go to the hospital and get an eye test before I get my license because I’m color blind.”
*tap tap* *STAMP*
“Here’s your license.”
As I stand there with license in hand, blinking at her, I hear the distinct honking of one of those horns with the rubber squeeze-bulb on the end. I tear out of the testing area determined to find the source of the honking! It might be the clown who’s running this circus and if so, I wanted to throw my license in his face, grab his rainbow colored overalls in both fists and scream at him, “GET SERIOUS AND QUIT FOOLING AROUND!”
I couldn’t find the source of the honking.
This Kimchi Chronicles is dedicated to the color 25.
Tags: Clown, Kimchi Chronicles, Korea