Oh come on now, you know you were guilty of it.
The year? 2009.
The setting? Any dial on your car radio.
The act? Singing loudly and proudly to Lady Gaga's Paparazzi or Telephone or whatever.
Don't lie to me. I know it happened.
Photo: Oh, nothing like the MTV Music Awards (or a deployment) to bring out the best in a performer.
As is often the case with anamnesis (yea, how do you like that word?! BAM!), I saw Lady Gaga on the TV the other day promoting her collaboration with Tony Bennett and I was immediately transported back to a different place and time.
Video clip: Not sure why, but this does not bother me at all.
Unfortunately, my particular memory sequence quickly went from the hilarity of parody videos of guys dancing to Gaga in the desert to an incredibly difficult situation I encountered back at Lakenheath.
Video clip: Why does everyone dance in the desert? Still better than Gangnam Style IMHO.
I was still in Accessories Flight (LOL, that word still makes me think of jewelry and not FOHEs) and was working in the Fuels Shop when Major Mercurial called to say that he wanted to see the Senior and I in his office immediately. We assumed that we were going to be fired, again, and joked that if we actually were fired this time that he would hand out basketballs at the gym while I handed out towels. Seemed like a good plan.
When we got to the office, however, Major M was pretty upset and was talking to some Americans in suits who were standing in the waiting area. This was strange considering we were overseas and on a pretty secure installation. That's when they flashed their badges: FBI.
They informed my Senior and I that one of our fuels troops had his kids illegally in the UK and that their mother wanted them home and was going to press charges and everything else unless they were on a plane tomorrow. Now I was no legal expert and I had no idea what had happened in their relationship to bring them to the point of fighting over a three-year-old and a one-year-old, but I knew enough not to push the issue with the FBI. My Senior and I agreed that the best thing we could do was to offer support for our troop throughout the process.
The FBI explained that in order to get the kids back to the US, however, two members of the unit had to take the kids to Heathrow and give them to an FBI handler for their flight to DC. One unit member had to be a female and the other a male with no ties to the individual or his kids. So if you know anything about the demographics of maintenance that female, by default, was me and the male was his immediate supervisor (BTW, an amazing Master Sergeant that continues to do great things).
We coordinated a time to get the kids the following day and the FBI left. The fuels troop was about as cooperative as one could be in that situation. I had no idea what to do when he wouldn't stop hugging them so I just figured we would speed to the airport to make up lost time. I also loaded them up with Capri Suns and Scooby snacks for the plane ride (because who doesn't love a kid jacked up on sugar during an eight-hour flight?!). I was also of zero assistance getting them through security because they wouldn't stop hugging me or my Master Sergeant. Pretty much an epic fail on my part, but the situation still breaks my heart when I think about it.
Regardless, it was a very quiet two-hour ride back to Lakenheath. That's when Lady Gaga came on the radio.
Maybe I beebopped my head or started an unconscious shoulder dance, but my Master Sergeant took it to the next level and started belting it out:
I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN
I'LL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOU LOVE ME
PAPA - PAPARAZZI
And just for a moment everything was okay and it was just funny and we were laughing and shouting and singing and we were human and their was no hierarchy or kids on planes or broken families.
There was Lady Gaga.
Of course I cried when I got home and hoped I never had to do anything like that ever again, but out of all the bad stuff always comes something good and that's what I'll try to remember going forward.
Cheers!
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