Denver

Grace and I made a short trip to Denver at the end of May to see my friend Dave's graduation. I've known Dave since we were freshmen at the Air Force Academy. We roomed together our first and second years. After graduating as Second Lieutenants, we get 60 days off before we have to begin our jobs. During our 60 days off, Dave and I spent most of it in Hawaii trying to forget about the Academy. Four years later, when I got married in 2002, Dave was stationed in Germany and flew to Nashville to be my best man. When I got cancer, Dave flew from his base in Florida to California to be with me when I started chemotherapy. Dave is Grace's Godfather. He would give me the shirt off his back. I figure the least I can do is visit him when he graduates from medical school. Since Betsy's sister was due to have a baby, Betsy opted not to go, so it was just me and the kid.

I feel like I should give a little more context to Dave. I'm sorry this story has nothing to do with tubefeeding but you see, Dave is a streaker.

We were freshmen at the Academy in 1994-95. Like most colleges, at the end of each semester we had finals week--where we took a final exam for every class. For fall semester, 1994, I had six final exams to take. As I recall, each one took five hours. All the freshmen are under a high amount of stress during the first finals week. In addition to our first college-level final exams, we were 4th class cadets at the Academy. As 4th class cadets we weren't even "recognized" by the upperclassmen and had to endure constant hazing from kids not much older than us. Freshmen are expected to be at attention everywhere outside their rooms; always in uniform. Whenever we were outside, we had to run everywhere we went. We had to memorize reams of useless knowledge like the profile and specs of every plane in the AF inventory, tidbits of knowledge about the early years of flight, or obscure quotes, such as a very lengthy one by John Stewart Mill: "War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse..." The quote goes on for a while, but you get the gist.

Every upperclassman had to be loudly greeted whenever we passed. "Good afternoon, Cadet Moreland, SMOOOOOTH Seagram Seven!!" we'd shout. We were in seventh squadron and resided at the far east end of a large dormitory called Vandenberg Hall. Every squadron had their own unique greeting. "Loose Hawgs!" for 34th squadron; "Raging Bull Six!" for sixth squadron; "HUGE Wild Weasels!!" for 35th. At the beginning of the year, we were "Smooth Seagram Seven" then somebody higher up thought we were promoting alcoholism so we became "Cellblock Seven" (doesn't that sound like a pleasant squadron to be in?). Now, they've changed it to "Shadow Seven." 

But I digress.

The academic and military stresses made our days a constant struggle. So every evening after a day of finals, or studying furiously for finals, we would all release our stress out our dorm windows. We called it "zoo hour." Vandenberg Hall was divided into six large squares, or quads, so most of the rooms of the six floor dorm faced inward. During zoo hour--the period right before lights out--every cadet would hang out the inward facing rooms, scream loudly, blare music ("We Don't Need No Education" by Pink Floyd was popular), throw burning books out the window, or just generally create mayhem as a way to relieve stress. 

View of one of the quads at Vandenberg Hall

I had a friend, another freshman named Max Wade, who was in 22nd squadron and resided at the far west end of the dorm. Freshmen weren't allowed to visit other squadrons so Max and I communicated with a relatively new application called "e-mail" (this was 1994, remember?). We were commiserating with each other about exams, certain upperclassmen, and generally how much it sucked to be a freshman at the Academy. I'm not sure how it came up, but I opined that I thought it would be funny if I streaked--ran naked through--my quad (the grassy square that 100 or so rooms faced) during zoo hour. Max agreed, but upped the ante. He thought it would be especially hilarious if I streaked the whole dorm, from his quad on the west end through my quad. In fact, he bet me $50 that I wouldn't do it. 

This was like a triple-dog dare. 

Air Force Academy Cadet Area on Google Maps

I accepted the challenge but there's no way I was going to do this alone. The first person I turned to who I thought would be idiotic, er, I mean brave and daring enough to do this with me was the guy I was rooming with next semester, Dave Baumgartner. We recruited a couple other squad mates for the adventure, Chris Haws and Matt James. Our nickname for Matt was "Pokey" because he was rather slow. In hindsight, someone named Pokey may not be the best choice for a streaking partner. A fast streaker is ok, but a slow streaker is just kind of sad.

In the middle of finals week, the four of us marched out of our dorm and stealthily sneaked down to the other end of the dorm. Our hastily devised plan was to start at Max's end, pack all our clothes in a backpack and race down to our own side of the dorm at the height of zoo hour. So, in the shadow of Vandenberg's west side, we stripped everything off except our shoes since there was gravel and patches of snow over portions of the quarter-mile route.

This was December in Colorado, so let me just say there there was a certain amount of "shrinkage" that night. Dave wore a Santa hat as a bit of added flare and carried the backpack. I wore a camouflaged hat and bandana over my face like some sort of naked bandit. Chris wore a scarf because just being nude is boring and I guess so his neck wouldn't get chilled. Matt bravely wore nothing, exposing anyone and everyone to the full monty.

The four of us stood there awkwardly, out of view of any rooms, until the hour of craziness was in full swing. With a "Let's do this!" we sprinted out. I quickly took the lead of our little group with Dave not far behind. Breathing heavily, Pokey rapidly fell behind. As freshmen we were taught to never leave a fellow classmate behind. Chris took this to heart and bravely ran with Pokey yelling encouragement. Dave and I had no such qualms and left Pokey struggling behind us. 

I vividly remember dashing from one quad to another with arms raised high like a champion Olympic runner. There were probably more than 2,000 cadets hanging out the windows screaming like crazy as we zipped (or in Pokey's case, jogged) by. By the time we got to our own quad, many of the cadets were forewarned of our approach. Flashbulbs went off all around me as I triumphantly pumped my arms through the last 200 feet of the run. Some of the onlookers were kind enough to throw rocks as we passed by. Being the leader of our foursome, I was spared from being hit by any projectiles, but Dave got hit right below his eye by a rock. 

We reached the end of the run and soon realized our biggest mistake of the night. Like many military commanders over the years, we failed to plan an exit strategy. Dave and I got to the end of the sprint completely exhausted, looked back and realized that Chris and Pokey were lagging half a quad behind. We foolishly stood there in full view of the rooms in our quad and waited for the rest of our team. This gave upperclassmen plenty of time to jog over, stand us at attention, and start yelling in our faces about how much trouble we were in. As onlookers above us jeered and yelled catcalls at the pathetic, naked freshmen awkwardly standing at attention in the cold night air, the first upperclass cadet to reach us yelled, "YOU GUYS ARE OUT OF UNIFORM!!!"

Seriously, that's what he said.

For "conduct unbecoming a fourth class cadet" we were given 60 tours and confined to our quarters for most of our second semester. A tour is one hour of marching back and forth between two pillars in service-dress uniform carrying our rubberized M-16. So, we had 60 hours to quietly contemplate all the ways we'd failed ourselves, our squadron, and our vaunted institution with our actions.

So, the point of this story is that Dave is nothing but an embarrassment to the uniform of the US military and now he's also a doctor. He's doing his residency in Iowa City, so if you happen to be in the ER at the University Hospital there and a naked doctor runs through the halls, you know who it is.

Sadly, he still hasn't learned to dress himself

So anyway, back to our trip. Grace and I were treated extremely well by Frontier Airlines on the flight. I guess because it's Memorial Day weekend, they treated Grace to a free snack and they gave us free TV.

Wouldn't advise drinking an Ensure in heavy turbulence

Once we got to Denver, we waited for Dave to get off his ass and pick us up.

Grace also enjoyed some goldfish until she spilled half the bag

We spent the weekend at Dave's sister, Kathy's, house. Kathy and her husband Ryan have four kids ranging in age from 1 to 7 so Grace had plenty of children to play with. In the meantime, Dave bought plenty of food and booze for the party.

I make it a point to sample everything in the bar

Kathy let me set up the Vitamix in her kitchen so I could blend up an assortment of brauts, burgers, fruit and veggies. Then, I washed it all down with Dave's special margaritas. The most significant thing that happened over the weekend is Grace lost her first tooth.

She ran up to everyone yelling, "I LOST MY TOOTH!!"

When Grace graduated from preschool, they did a ceremony where each kid went across the stage and got their "diploma" while a teacher described the child and what he/she wanted to be when they grew up. Every other boy and girl wanted to be a doctor, or fireman, or nurse or teacher. When they got to Grace, the teacher said she really wanted to be a tooth fairy. So loosing her first tooth was a big occasion for her. She was very excited to meet the tooth fairy that night, but unfortunately she came while Grace was sleeping.

Just look at that pretty smile

All in all, it was a great trip. Kathy and Ryan were terrific hosts and Grace made some new friends.

From left: Grace, Rachel, Me, Carson, Taylor, some weirdo freak, and Eli

Good luck to my best friend, Dave, and his lovely wife, Claire, on their next adventure!!! You're an inspiration to me, man.