Dear Planet Earth,
If this blogging thing doesn’t work out as a life-long (now estimated to be two more weeks) career, I may look into becoming a professional freeloader.
Today at Fort Doomsday, an old guy with no eyebrows caught me trying to steal some power for my netbook and phone. I tried to pretend I was just another soldier, but he saw right through it and laughed. He invited me back to his tent for drinks.
Now, I’m not stupid. I’ve seen enough Dateline specials about the Neverland Ranch to know you’re not supposed to go to dark secluded places with strangers to get drunk. But there was something in his eyes, something stern but paternal, that told me I could trust this guy. That sounds really stupid and Dateliney now that I see it written down.
Whatever. It turns out, he’s actually a very cool guy. Dr. Eimer is the head of the civilian consultants here. He’s also the only civilian consultant. When I tried to press him further and find out exactly what he does, he laughed.
“I’m a historian,” he said.
He poured me another glass of whiskey and asked what I do. It was strong stuff — my first alcoholic drink that I couldn’t associate a TV commercial with.
“I guess I’m a historian, too.”
That made him laugh again, but the conversation took a much darker turn soon after when he told me about how his wife died during the earthquakes. I told him about Diana, which started our sharing of condolences and philosophies of life, death, and the universe. I think we may have tried to drunk dial the Pentagon at one point.
To make a long story short, I’m keeping him company in exchange for food, showers, and whiskey. Even MJ never offered whiskey.