I am conflicted this evening as I lay awake contemplating my return to the USS Midway. It is a momentous trip for this aging spokesman. I have lived in Virginia for a long time, with my publicist , JR Reddig. When he yanked me out of my snug quarters last April and gave me to Pat, whoever she is, I knew it was going to be the beginning of my next adventure.
So far I have mostly been set aside on a chair or a couch. She brings me out to perform like some trained equine. Once she and I sat together to read a portion of JR’s book, Nick Danger, Third Eye. She took our picture and sent it to JR. I assume he liked the picture, since she really does not tell me much.
Now she keeps assuring me that we will travel by plane from Charlottesville, Virginia through the Charlotte airport and then on to San Diego. She says it will be a fun trip. I’ll probably spend it stuffed in her purse. Will I have to wear a mask or are spokesmen excepted from that rule? As an officer of the Naval Service, albeit retired, I will do my duty as required.
I’m looking over her shoulder and can see that she is corresponding with JR and another old Intel type Phil about my return to the USS Midway at 0930 on Thursday, 23 September. As a Lieutenant, junior grade, I warrant two side boys. Phil thinks he can convince two of the Midway’s volunteers to serve as the side boys when I cross the brow one more time. Pat is bringing donuts to bribe those who prefer such things.
One of the disadvantages of being an alter ego, is that I have very little say in what happens to me. Yes, I have been a spokesperson, respected briefer, and one of the first to visit Gonzo Point (not sure you will find it on any maps), but even my rank has worn off my yellow fur arms.
After the trip, I understand that JR will be in San Diego in October for his son’s wedding and plans to visit the Midway in an attempt to relive some of the days of his misspent youth about the Best Ship in the Damned Navy. Ships and shipmates come and go–we cherish them when we see each other again.