Ok, before I get started a disclaimer: there were no little Japanese ladies harmed by the actions depicted in this story.
To set the stage, my wife Christina was working the night of the NIOC Misawa Christmas Party, but she insisted on buying me a ticket to get me out of the house. I figured it would a pretty sweet free meal (and I was right). The Christmas dinner was held on the Officers' side (read: "good") of the collocated club here in Misawa and the food was excellent (even though you only got one pass the buffet line...that's un-American!) while the cheese-cake deserts (prepared by a wife of one of the chiefs) were fantastic. There was a mountain of door prizes (your faithful reporter here did not manage to win any of those) and schedule for the night included a social hour, opening remarks, dinner and then games....the entertainment committee had come up with some games for us to play and break up the monotony of simply giving away prizes (which include a big-screen TV, XBOX360, PSPs, iPods, furniture, etc....good stuffs).
There were several tables for our Japanese guests from Misawa town, base, and from the nearby Oirase Town. They were centrally located near the front, which playing a factor in this story. As does the numbering arrangement of said table. My ticket was for table 7 which was all Navy Chiefs ('cept for me and the other spouses). There were 20 tables, but the number turned out to be mere window-dressing because the table were arranged in a completely haphazard order ....it didn't start at 1 and follow numerical order, I suspect they gave the table labels to a dyslexic Japanese child and let him run amok. So anyway our table 7 was locating in the back left corner (is looking out from the stage area), I think we two tables nearest to up were 3 and 15...but the thing to remember is that I was stuck in the rear with the gear so to speak and really is only important in the context of why a little old Japanese lady would go SPLAT later on in the evening....which leads me back to the post-dinner games...
First up was who can stuff the most marshmallows in their mouth" - our chief (re-pete, there are two chiefs named Peter....the first is Pete, the second re-Pete) held his own for a long time, but eventually his saliva turned the 'mellos into a gunky white glue..and he could no longer manage to say "Happy Holidays" so he was eliminated.
To set the stage, my wife Christina was working the night of the NIOC Misawa Christmas Party, but she insisted on buying me a ticket to get me out of the house. I figured it would a pretty sweet free meal (and I was right). The Christmas dinner was held on the Officers' side (read: "good") of the collocated club here in Misawa and the food was excellent (even though you only got one pass the buffet line...that's un-American!) while the cheese-cake deserts (prepared by a wife of one of the chiefs) were fantastic. There was a mountain of door prizes (your faithful reporter here did not manage to win any of those) and schedule for the night included a social hour, opening remarks, dinner and then games....the entertainment committee had come up with some games for us to play and break up the monotony of simply giving away prizes (which include a big-screen TV, XBOX360, PSPs, iPods, furniture, etc....good stuffs).
There were several tables for our Japanese guests from Misawa town, base, and from the nearby Oirase Town. They were centrally located near the front, which playing a factor in this story. As does the numbering arrangement of said table. My ticket was for table 7 which was all Navy Chiefs ('cept for me and the other spouses). There were 20 tables, but the number turned out to be mere window-dressing because the table were arranged in a completely haphazard order ....it didn't start at 1 and follow numerical order, I suspect they gave the table labels to a dyslexic Japanese child and let him run amok. So anyway our table 7 was locating in the back left corner (is looking out from the stage area), I think we two tables nearest to up were 3 and 15...but the thing to remember is that I was stuck in the rear with the gear so to speak and really is only important in the context of why a little old Japanese lady would go SPLAT later on in the evening....which leads me back to the post-dinner games...
First up was who can stuff the most marshmallows in their mouth" - our chief (re-pete, there are two chiefs named Peter....the first is Pete, the second re-Pete) held his own for a long time, but eventually his saliva turned the 'mellos into a gunky white glue..and he could no longer manage to say "Happy Holidays" so he was eliminated.
Then came the "dress someone up as Santa" and we had the perfect canidate...Master Chief Browning's husband (a retired Master Chief himself) had the rosy cheeks, the beard, the glasses....he was the clear favorite, but we all got submarined by table 5, who dressed up a baby as Santa. The CO went all "aw-shucks" on us and blam, we lost the second game...
More prizes were slowly going off the board and yes, like I said, I missed out on the iPods, the XBOX 360, the gift certificates, but you know I don't need any of that stuff, already got plenty of electronic gear)....and then the moment of truth arose....
"Scavenger hunt" was announced, and about 20 chairs were lined up on the stage at the front of the room. The chiefs all turn to look at me (most with sadistic evil grins) and go "NEW GUY"...get up there...Their advice: take no prisoners, you gotta win this for us, be aggressive...well, OH-KAY....I really try to not turn on the competitor in me...sometimes its not fun and isn't this supposed to a family affair? Well the rules get explained: they'll call out an item, you've got 30 seconds to find it and return to a seat, and anyone in the room can help you (of course only those at your table have any inclination to do so). So there I am sitting at the front of packed room of folks, most of whom probably don't know me from Adam and I here them belt out the first item: "Government driver's license" and its ON....I am blast between tables toward the back of the room, snatch a DL from a table-mate and do a frenzied bob-n-weave back to the stage. Where I find out that they sneakily removed at least 1 chair. Ok, so I've got this, speed is of the essence...
Next up: Lighter, check....non-govt. pen, check....man things are cruising....I've got a little path worked out to zip to the back of the room and grab the necessary time from a table of ready, prepared chiefs....others tables are dropping out, either because their table was il-equipped (the lighter zapped like 5 contestants, guess all that "Don't start smoking crap really works, cause there were very few smokers outside of the Japanese) or because they couldn't get back to the stage in time....
Family photo presents a minor problem, none of the Chiefs are there ready to hand me one....augh, time is halfway gone....I snatch my own wallet out my coat and race back the stage...flashing the Christmas photo of Christina, Zaar, DJ and I...at first the dude is like: that's not a family photo, but I doth protest, that my wife and two boys right there I tell him...you can't penalize me for not having kids! That wins the day and I can continue...oh the fates were not on your side little Japanese lady...
The field is really getting pared down, there maybe 8 of us left and then it comes...NAIL CLIPPER is called (30 seconds!) and off I go. I've got this path down pat....back to the table (25 seconds)...oh no, Mr. Browning is having trouble getting it off his key chain (20 sec). He's fumbling with it, time is running down and then POP! off it comes, I snatch it out of his hands (15 sec) and turn to race back...there's a logjam in the way, I've got squeeze past a dude...(10 sec) and then the way opens up, I accelerate past the second row of tables come between the first row of table right in front the dance-floor/stage area. I see a clear path to an empty seat, but there is a little black mass to the left...no prob....weave right....it moves right...jump cut to the right....no dice...BLAM!!! little black mass crumples to the floor (turned out to be a little Japanese lady in a black dress) and I go down in a flying heap flat out on my stomach in the middle of the dance floor, just a few, tantalizing feet from the second to last chair....I glance back and she the crumpled lump is actually a small woman on her knees, but there is no time for sympathy...Letting nothing deter me from victory...I scramble up--leaving Fujiko-san to wonder where the American godzilla who just ran her over went--and snag my rightful seat with 2 seconds left...(you know in my imagination I pictured myself, gracefully trying to weave my around the lady, like Fred Aistare, only to get caught up by a shoelace or something...in reality I am sure it probably looked closer to something out of a Ben Stiller "meet the fockers" sequel: with a giant 200lb American in a slow-mo, yawning roar giving the little lady a forearm shiver directly between the shoulder blades to knock her out of the way....)
We had a time-out after that....she was a trooper, and shook off the contact, got a quick round of applause and though chagrinned, I was ready to resume the chase. I made it through one more item (Florida drivers' license) before our table got knocked out by the ubiquitous "eye-glasses case"....(damn lasik surgery, none of us had glasses on anymore).
We had a time-out after that....she was a trooper, and shook off the contact, got a quick round of applause and though chagrinned, I was ready to resume the chase. I made it through one more item (Florida drivers' license) before our table got knocked out by the ubiquitous "eye-glasses case"....(damn lasik surgery, none of us had glasses on anymore).
I talked with her after our table got knocked out and she was exceedingly gracious...."Don't you worry about me, I shouldn't have been there...I'm ok"....So no international incident arose, and I am sure that she'll have a story to tell her grandkids...cause I've already gone down in NIOC Misawa lore....I guess the command master chief went into work, ostensibly to see the shift-workers...I think its because he wanted to tell Christina was had happened...
I hope I'm invited next year...
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