Where did my daughter go?

Today I am going to tell two stories about my daughter when she was all of 1 year of age.

We were living in an apartment above a dentist office while I was completing my internship.  One day my daughter, M, was playing amongst her toys.  My wife was in the kitchen and I was reading something in the corner.  It became strangely quiet and I looked up to see what my daughter was up to.  I did not see her.  I called out to my wife to ask if she was her and she was not.  I quickly went upstairs to realize she was not there either.  The front door was closed and locked.
My wife and I started to call out for her and looked about the room.  We then heard a noise from her toy box and we looked inside.  Her hand triumphantly thrusted up above the edge of the toy box with a cheerio between her index finger and thumb.  She must have seen the cheerio at the bottom of the box and fell in when trying to retrieve it.  She was still too small to get out of the box, but was more pleased with herself than being panicky for having fallen inside.

One day, while living at the same apartment, my wife and I stepped outside the front door.  I cannot remember if we were going to go somewhere as a family or if we had been talking to someone outside.  Either way, we heard a thump as the door was closed on us.  We went to open it, but it was locked!  Our daughter had pushed the door closed and it self locked.  Well, of course neither of us had a key.  Being that my daughter was about 1 year of age, she was not responding to direction in how to unlock the door.  She starts to cry which just upped our anxiety.  My wife started to freak out about her baby, but then realized that the dentist office was open (he was the homeowner).  She blazed downstairs to try and fetch another key while I did my best to pacify a 1 year old crying out for mommy and daddy across the locked door.  About 10 minutes passed and then a key arrived.  The family reunited!

How I got to Iwo Jima

The other day, a friend and I were discussing interesting places we have been.  It reminded me of my adventure to Iwo Jima.

I was stationed in Okinawa, Japan for 3 years.  One of my colleagues was married to a C-12 pilot.  One day he gives me a call and asks if I would like to fly to Iwo Jima.  A small group from his squadron was going to fly out there for the day to re-enlist one of their sailors.  Now there are very few opportunities to ever get to Iwo Jima.  One way would be to have actually fought at Iwo Jima during WWII and survived.  They have annual reunion flights that go out there.  Another way to see the island is through the single Marine program which would have trips out to Iwo Jima.  Since I was did not fight in the war, was not single and not a Marine I had to rely on the third way to get out there, know someone!

So I barter with my colleagues to change my duty day and cover my call so I can go to Iwo Jima.  I show up to Kadena air base and meet up with my pilot friend, two other pilots, a flight surgeon, and a few enlisted.  We take off only for alarms to go off within 10 minutes of flying.  Next thing I know we are landing back at the air base.  It is unknown why the alarms went off, but since no obvious solution the only option is to change planes.  This should have been a warning for me, but I went along with the others, debarked the plane and loaded up into another C-12.  30 minutes later we are back in the air.

As I recall the flight to Iwo Jima from Okinawa takes about 3-4 hours.  When you come up on the island it is in the middle of nowhere.  All you see is Mount Sirabachi which comprises about a third of the island and an air strip that occupies most the rest.  A few sparse buildings that house the Japanese Defense Forces (only males on the island for 9 months at a time) are next to the air strip.

I first realized that there was a problem when the third pilot in the back with us started to rifle through a procedure manual.  He was frantically communicating with the pilots in the cockpit.  Next thing I know he opens a small hatch in the floor of the plane and is cranking away at something, but seemed to having difficulty completing his task at hand.  Finally, word gets back to everyone of what has occurred.  The landing gear is not coming down.  Neither the controls nor manual override has been able to bring the wheels down.  We are told this in order to prepare us for the next attempt to bring the gear down.  We were going to start purposely jerk the plane up and down to try and throw the wheels down.  If I remember correctly, we were doing about 3 G's which is above the normal rating for that aircraft.  (not to ruin the story, but when we finally landed, the Japanese forces told us we looked like we were on a roller coaster and they had no idea what the heck we were circling around going up and down for).

Our attempt to throw down the gear was unsuccessful.  We had to land at Iwo Jima.  Okinawa and Guam were both too far to fly to and besides, we would still need landing gear there as well.  So, the decision was to pull the side door near the front of the plane.  This is the main egress point.  If we had to crash land it would likely cause the plane to bend near the front and thus obstruct the main door.  If that were the case, you would have to exit through the second door near the tail which would then be sticking up and about 12 feet from the ground.  By removing the front door it assured the door would not be jammed shut and there would still be a way to exit the plane safely.

Once the door came off wind started to rush through the cabin.  We are told to get into crash position (get low, hands over your head).  It was quite the seen with the loud noise, the wind whistling through the aircraft, and the sailor to re-enlist having a panic attack (his friends trying to calm him down while dealing with their own anxiety).  looked over at my friend, the flight surgeon, and asked 'are you getting into crash position?'  He replied 'Heck no, I want to see this'.  So we both leaned into the aisle and watched what was about to transpire through the open cockpit door.

As we went in for the landing we did not know what to expect.  When the ground neared the plane landed without a hitch.  We all looked at each other with amazement.  When we got out of the plane we saw that the landing gear had finally came down.  Apparently a latch ditch attempt to crank it down during descent of plane worked.  You could see purple hydraulic fuel all over the plane from a broken line, explaining the difficulty with the landing gear.

The bad news was that we almost crashed (though the pilot stated that crash landing that plane would be a piece of cake!)  It was also getting late with little daylight left to do the re-enlistment ceremony.   The good news was that we had no way to fly back that day so we had to stay overnight on Iwo Jima.  The Japanese Defense Forces (JDF) were very friendly.  They gave us a shuttle that we took up to top of Mount Sirabachi to do our re-enlistment.  Once we got up there there were more JDF who were having a party.  They started to hand us beer and yakitori which we gladly accepted.  When we got back to our housing for the night, they came to our rooms and brought us whiskey (because that is obviously what Americans drink).

The next morning we had a chance to explore the island.  We walked along the beach where the main landing occurred during the battle for Iwo Jima.  It was awe inspiring to think how our Marines took that island.  The beach is full of black sand that you sink in.  The beach slopes upward toward high brush where the enemy would have had a clear shot at you.  Meanwhile above you the Japanese would have had fortified positions on Mt. Sirabachi to attack from.  All the while, they also had an extensive network of caves where they could pop in and out of.  There are a few caves that you are allowed to visit (and others you stumble upon).  They are impressive in their design.  Whole rooms underground.  Many still had relics from the war (cooking pots, helmets, even a rifle).  I certainly left that island with a greater appreciation for what our sailors and Marines had to go through in order to take the island during the war.

All of us flew back that day except my pilot friend.  He had stay behind and wait for parts to fix the plane.  When I got back I took a little bit of grief from my colleagues.  By staying overnight I had missed another duty and the next work day.  My boss said that was the last time she would agree to let me go on a boondoggle trip like that.  I did owe people some favors for my adventure, but hey, it was worth it.

Fayetteville, North Carolina

Now that I started this blog I have been having moments where I get a flood of memories that likely will make for good story fodder.  This weekend, my memories were triggered as I caught up with an old friend.  I shall refer to him as Jefe.

Jefe and I went to medical school together.  We have stayed in touch and thankfully our paths cross somewhat frequently.  Such was the case this weekend when we were able to share a few beers with another friend and reminisce.

Jefe and I did some medical student rotations together.  One fine institution we had the pleasure of rotating through was Fort Bragg Army Medical Center located in Fayetteville, North Carolina.  Now you may be asking yourself why you have not heard of Fayetteville and that may be because you do not often frequent strip clubs or pawn shops which comprise about 80% of the local business.

There are not too many places to go for entertainment in Fayetteville, but Jefe and I managed to find a couple of the local watering holes.  In one such establishment they had a pool table in the back room.  We may have been slightly inebriated when we decided it was a good idea to take the 2x4 being used to prop open the back door to use as a pool cue, but it certainly seemed like a good idea at the time.

About half way through our game a local puts his quarters down on the table to claim next game.  I proceed to beat Jefe (he may have a different recollection).  The local racks the balls and I proceed to break when he cries foul.  See, he did not appreciate that I was still using a 2x4.  We were quick to point out that we 'owned' the table.  Anyhow, I made the mistake of beating him with the 2x4 (I think he decided to use a true cue) and we were quickly encouraged to leave the bar by the management.

FAYETTEVILLE BONUS STORIES

Two favorite memories of Fayetteville.

1) The car we kept seeing around town that had big white lettering in back window saying "Unforgiven: The Streets of Fayetteville"
2) The dude at the hospital that absolutely loved Antonio Banderas (he was in a couple of movies in theaters at the time).  He said in a latin accent "Antonio Banderas, he's so hot" constantly and thus Jefe and I did as well.

ANOTHER JEFE STORY

As we were driving along the Chesapeake, literally in the middle of nowhere, we had but a couple of radio stations to listen to in the car.  All of a sudden we see a huge radio tower adjacent to a small single story home.  We decide to turn around and go to this house.  We end up sitting with the local disc jockey, had a brief on air conversation, and were able to dedicate a song to our wives.  Of course, they never heard the dedication as they were hundreds of miles away.

Some funny observations from Vietnam

So, as I mentioned in the last post, I was in Vietnam for a week recently.  It being my first time, I was extra observant of what was taking place around me.  I thought I would mention a few things that I found interesting.

1) I am really tall in this country.  Now, I am only 6 foot which is like average for the United States, but in Vietnam I was doubling some people's height (picture attached).  Also, the door knobs were literally at my knee caps and the shower head in my hotel was at my nipples!
2) They love taking pictures and once it gets started, everyone needs a picture with you.  Sometimes I would just ask if I could take a picture of something like how they brewed their herbal medications and they took that as an invitation for everyone to get in the shot.  By the end of the day my cheeks were hurting from all the smiling.  Definitely very friendly people.
3) You can put anything on a moped.  I do not know how they do it, but they hold conversations with other bikers as they drive next to each other.  They will text and motor along.  They would have whole families (most I saw was 5) on one scooter (the kids were the ones without the helmets).  I saw whole cooking apparatus set ups strapped down.  I saw them carrying 10 foot lengths of PVC.  My ultimate favorite was the guy balancing a 50 inch flatscreen on the seat behind him with one hand while maneuvering his bike with his other.
4) When you commit to crossing the street, do not break stride and probably best to not look at the oncoming cars and scooters.  They will adjust to your pace and come within inches.  If you hesitate and adjust your speed/route, you risk getting hit.
5) Everyone apparently gets up at 0500 and goes for a swim in the ocean at the crack of dawn.  I would awake and look out my window with the sun rising (picture attached) and there would be hundreds of people swimming in the ocean.  Everyone else would do calisthenics exercises on the sidewalk.
5) I rarely ate Vietnamese food in Vietnam.  We just kept picking restaurants that were top ten on Trip Advisor and never scored a bad meal.  We had Greek (twice), Indian, Italian, American BBQ (Vietnamese couple who grew up in SoCal), German, Russian (brewery with Russian grunge cover band) and pretty good pizza to boot.

Getting home from Vietnam

I figured that for the first post I should do something recent and fresh in my mind.  That way it is less hyperbole and more actually what happened.
I just got back from Vietnam where I was part of a medical exchange of sorts called Pacific Partnership.  I went as military acupuncturist to collaborate with acupuncturists doing rehabilitation medicine.
Getting to Vietnam was long, but pretty flawless.  Getting back was a different story.  There were about 12 of us going on the first flight that day on Vietnam Air.  My buddy and I decided to skip the 0300 shuttle and instead get another 45 minutes of sleep and take our own cab.  So, we hop in the cab at 0345 with 524,000 Dong (local currency, roughly 23,000 Dong to the dollar) between us.  We were told that it would cost about 300-350,000 Dong total.  The cab ride was pretty smooth.  The most interesting aspect of the ride was how the driver would use the line divider not has a barrier, but rather a path driving directly over the line and in both lanes at the same time.  There were pot holes, there were times our cab driver seemed lost, there was even the time we thought the car had completely died a mile from the airport.  However, the biggest concern was the meter.  It creeped over the 350,000 Dong mark long before the airport.  When I could see the flight tower we were over 450,000 Dong and when we arrived the bill was 511,000 Dong.  That left us a whooping 13,000 Dong between us (about 57 cents).
We go into the airport terminal and we do not see our airline advertised and we do not see any of the rest of our party (who should have arrived 45 minutes prior).  That prompted him to ask 'did we go to the right airport' which gave me an oh s^%# moment.  We quickly learned that we were simply too early and our airlines would not open for another 40 minutes.
After passing through security we made it to the terminal.  Unfortunately all the flights were delayed and leaving now at the exact same time and multiple flights were being loaded through the same gate.  (this did give me some time to shop and I found a cool crazy bird neck pillow - pic attached) Of course our flight was the last to be loaded and thus we were that much later in taking off.  This posed a big problem as we were already expecting to be rushed at the next airport to make our flight.  We were going to have to get our luggage and recheck it into the international terminal, clear customs and go through security again once we hit Ho Chi Minh city airport.  Once in the air we quickly did the math and realized that we would have at best 30-40 minutes to get everything done in order to catch our next flight.  If we missed that flight to Seoul we were going to miss the last 3 legs of our journey and make our 27 hour trip about 48 hours.  This was definitely a problem.  My buddy and I were sitting right next to one of the flight stewards who thankfully had some understanding of English.  We explained our situation and asked him to please call ahead to the airport to have someone standing by to help get us to next flight and to hopefully stall the next flight.  He went to speak to the head stewardess, came back, smiled and basically told us tough s@#%, but ever so politely.  At this point we were contemplating worst case scenarios and accepted that we would not make our next flight.  When we landed the two of us left the other ten in the back of the plane and snuck off with the first class folks.  To our surprise, there was an airline representative waving at us who then started to literally run down the corridor.  We followed and were passed off from representative to representative as we went to different sections of the airport.  I felt like a baton in a relay race.  We were literally running behind the glass doors and avoiding all the normal airport foot traffic.  Before we knew it we were at baggage claim.  Soon the other 10 in our party found us and we collected our bags.  All of a sudden a familiar face from the embassy shows up and it become clear that she has organized our VIP treatment.  After a couple of thank you's we are quickly ushered away again and start running through the terminal with our luggage in tow.  Imagine 12 individuals (all shapes and sizes) strewn across about 50 yards trying to keep pace and not lose sight of the lady in front with the sign above her head.  Next thing I know we are outside the airport in passenger pick up zigzagging amongst people.  We zip down the road until we hit the abutting international airport.  We are hurried in to 2 check in counters to check in our bags then off to customs followed by security and lastly pushed into the last tram to take us to the tarmac.  Every step of the way we had our own airline representatives directing us.  I breath a sigh of relief realizing that this is going to happen, we are going to make our flight.  But then we are in a traffic jam on the tarmac waiting for planes to cross.  After 5 minutes of sweating this out, our driver decides to take his own circuitous route to our plane which we board with 1 minute to takeoff!
Now we are off to Seoul.   It seems that we will be able to keep to our original timetable.  When we land we have just over 2 hours before our next boarding.  We go down to check into our terminal desk only to find that my luggage cannot be found and another one of us has had all her remaining flights canceled.  I spent the entire 2 hours at this desk trying to rectify both situations, which we did and we were probably the last few people to board the plane.  Good news though, because my new best friend is an airline savant he has arranged, during this time, to sign me up as a Delta member, upgrade my ticket and then transferred some of his frequent flyer miles to my new account to get me into first class.  That is right, this joker (me) was drinking a nice pinot along with his trout dinner and then was able to get completely horizontal with a nice thick blanket and a legit full size pillow to catch some Z's on this 11 hour leg.
So all is fine, right?  Wrong.  We next land in Seattle with 2 hours till the next flight to San Diego.  When we depart we are stuck in a long narrow hallway where we are in a holding pattern to go down to customs.  My buddy, of course, has a global entry card and whizzes right past everyone.  The rest of us are waiting because they have maximum density of people downstairs in customs line.  One of the employees states that he is too hot to which I replied 'there is a solution to that'.  After about 10 minutes we went downstairs and then snaked through the customs process and claimed our luggage.  We are now 10 minutes from boarding.  I get through security only to have my bag set aside.  I had forgot to empty my hydro flask.  Unfortunately they will not allow me to drink it or dump it on that side of security screen.  I have to go back to the other side, empty the bottle, get in line, and go back through security.  Now it is 30 minutes from takeoff.  We have to catch the transfer train to another terminal.  We look at the flight departure screen, find our flight and it has NO GATE listed.  Delta flies out of terminal A and B. We choose A and go.  We look at another screen and still not gate information for us.  I go into the sky lounge and quickly tell them my situation and their response is 'will you be joining us in the lounge today'.  I told them that I had a flight to catch and needed gate info which they provided followed by 'but will you be joining us in the lounge today'?  When we arrive at the gate and all reunite there was disappointment on a couple of their faces as we had been craving the opportunity to sit down and have a nice IPA at Seattle airport.  We instead started to board the plane and to my surprise, my buddy was again able to arrange for me to upgrade my ticket to the last first class seat.  Once seated, the stewardess asked 'would you like something to drink' to which I responded 'why yes, an IPA would be nice'.  Once in hand, I took a selfie and sent to my friends in back so they would know that at least one of us was enjoying that IPA.
I did make it home safely.  From the time we took off in Vietnam to the time we landed in San Diego it took 27 hours.  I never sat in a single chair in any of the the connecting airports I visited that day.  It was a crazy time, but sure makes for a good story!