Military Brats (in progress)

Hola, Rota

I stepped off the plane with my backpack slung over my shoulder. The flight was only four hours long and Germany is in the same time zone as Spain so I didn't have to adjust any. Walking down the steps of the small, Ryan Air plane onto the tarmac I immediately noticed the difference in weather. It's fucking hot down here! I checked my phone to get a read on the temperature: 35° Celsius! For all of those who haven't lived outside of America, that translates to about 95° Fahrenheit. Jesus Christ.

I hear my dad mumble something along the lines of "how do you say 'hot as balls' in spanish?"

I chuckle and flash him a quick smile to show him that it's not too bad.

We get our luggage from the baggage check as, what I assume is a hit Spanish song, plays quietly overhead. Walking out of the airport we see a man standing by his car with a Phillies baseball cap and a faded Aerosmith t-shirt.

My dad lightens up when he sees him and hollers his name across the parking lot to get his attention. "Ian! Still rooting for the stinking Phillies are we?"

Ian Roberts is an old Navy buddy of dad's. They went to the academy together and have been stationed on the same base a handful of times. They are basically brothers and he's become the closest thing I have to an uncle.

"Still as ugly as ever, Jack. How've you been Liam?" He gives my dad a big bear hug and moves to engulf me. I sidestep and go for the handshake making him laugh. "Opened a can of whoop-ass on the other bases in Europeans I heard."

I laugh and playfully get into my wrestling stance. Crouching down with my hands out and my elbows held to my sides. "Almost. I would've taken home the gold if it wasn't for that Matt kid from Stuttgart. He wins every year. He beat my by only three points though which is better than I've ever done."

"Keep working at it you'll get him this year." Ian gives me a high five and starts to load our suitcases into the back of his car. "I know you guys are already accustomed to European driving so I won't have to give you the whole presentation, but scenery-wise, Spain is very different from Deutschland."

On the short drive to the military base, I see just how right Uncle Ian is. The dirt is a reddish brown as opposed to the black dirt I'm used to seeing. The trees are also thinner and shorter and the architecture of the buildings are completely different. They use lighter pastel colors like white and yellow, where Germany uses greys, and the style is more rounded than up north. Not as many edges and angles.

I roll my eyes as Ian turns up the American radio station to blast Carry On My Wayward Son, my personal favorite classic rock song. We pass quaint coffee shops with white chairs and tables out front and vast fields of sunflower fields all pointed towards the sun. My backpack shifts around at my feet as we curve around the countless roundabouts that take place of stoplights that are in the US. I didn't bring much for entertainment, just my laptop with my favorite horror movies, my favorite book Pride and Prejudice (I'm a sucker for the classics), and my phone filled with hours of music.

As the song nears to an end, we pull up to the temporary housing unit that my dad and I will
be staying in until we find a house available off of the base. These "half-houses" are exactly what their nickname implies, full size houses with a wall in between. Each part has a kitchen, and small living room, two bedrooms, and two bathrooms. The larger families struggle a little bit more.

Ian slows to a stop and steps out of the car, opening my car door with a sarcastic bow.

"Your castle awaits young prince," he says with a smirk.

Without missing a beat I return fire. "Off with your head." My Dad spits out his water.

After transferring all of the luggage into our respective rooms we say goodbye to Ian. Sitting down on the loaned furniture my dad pulls out a deck of cards to play Go Fish. Ever since I was old enough to hold the cards we have played a game of Go Fish to commemorate each move.

"I was thinking tomorrow we can go check out the school and sign you up for the youth center. Got any sevens?" My Dad peers over his cards wiggling his eyebrows.

I wiggle mine right back. "Go Fish. Yeah that sounds fine. I hope this one has a pool table. Any aces?"

"Dammit," my Dad scowls as he hands me his last card assuring my victory. I laugh and gather all the cards like I just won a game of poker.

The rest of the day is mundane filled with watching reruns on the AFN network interrupted with shitty, military filmed commercials. I settle down in bed after watching my favorite horror movie, Saw 3, and fall asleep trying to picture what these next three years will be like.