Parkway Rest Stop Fort Holabird or the Twilight Zone The trip from Fort Dix to Baltimore lasted approximately three hours. It had occurred to me that it was the first time in eight weeks that I actually was sitting in a relatively comfortable seat. In basic training, there are virtually no chairs. True, one sits in training rooms and in the mess hall, but those chairs are built for function, not for comfort. Watch Criminal Activities HDQ' title='Watch Criminal Activities HDQ' />Sitting on a bunk is just not the same as sitting in a real chair. I wonder if today I would find a seat on Greyhound bus quite as wonderful as it seemed then. More importantly, however, the trip meant three hours alone away from other soldiers and drill sergeants for the first time in more than eight weeks. It had been easy to forget that the world did not stop at the Fort Dix gates, but rather it was humming along quite nicely. The tiny island of civilian life on the Greyhound bus gave me three hours to stare out the window and think about the past eight weeks, about my life prior to those eight weeks, and how strange it seemed that things I had nothing to do with and had no control over placed me on this bus headed south to some damned place no one seemed to know anything about. Once in Baltimore, I dragged my jam packed duffel bag off the bus, and asked a few people where I could catch the bus to Fort Holabird. One person said, I heard of Fort Meade, but I really dont know anything about Fort Holabird. Watch Criminal Activities HDQ' title='Watch Criminal Activities HDQ' />Are you sure you dont mean Fort Meade A couple other people were equally as ignorant about Fort Holabird. I thought Christ, these people live here, and they never heard of the place What the hell Finally, I asked the information person at the bus terminal, who mercifully knew what bus I should take to get to this mystery military post. Shortly thereafter, duffel bag and I boarded the local bus that would take us to the base. I asked the bus driver to let me know when we got to Fort Holabird. No problem, he said. I was more than a little relieved to confirm that I was on the right bus and that the driver actually knew where the damned place was. The uniform again provoked stares, smiles and glares from the other passengers. By this time, I was becoming accustomed to it. Besides, I was tired, and I just wanted to get to wherever the hell I was supposed to be. Heres the base, son, the driver said, as he stopped the bus by the gate, in front of a guardhouse. I struggled with the duffle bag down the bus aisle and thanked the driver as I turned to step off through the bus doors. As I got off the bus, I was horrified to see an MP military policeman looking at me and walking at a brisk pace from the guardhouse in my direction. Watch Nick Swardson: Seriously, Who Farted? Online Ibtimes'>Watch Nick Swardson: Seriously, Who Farted? Watch Newcomer 4Shared there. Online Ibtimes. Oh hell. Here it comes. He was a tall, staff sergeant, the same rank as my drill sergeant. I didnt think it possible, but the MP looked even more frightening than the drill sergeants I had just spent eight weeks with. He was wearing the white MP helmet and a black MP armband. His trousers were bloused over his spit shined airborne boots, and he wore a 4. I braced myself for what I was certain would be a ration of shit about something or other I was not doing right. Before I could say that I was reporting for duty thats what one is supposed to say, he said, Hi. You need help with that bagI said, Pardon me What did he say He repeated, How ya doing You look like you could use some help with that bag. I was speechless. I could only nod my head in the affirmative, something that would have unleashed a torrent of invective from a drill sergeant about the importance of sounding off like you got a pairThe MP looked at me for a moment, and I thought, OK, let the hollering begin. He didnt holler He said, You look beat, and he effortlessly tossed my duffel bag over his shoulder and carried it to the guardhouse. He set it down and asked, Where on the base are you headed Still in shock, I told him that I had no idea where I was headed. I just knew that I was ordered to come here. According to a new story from The Hill, which interviewed more than a dozen Democrats in recent days, some of Hillary Clintons biggest supporters want her to. Due to no response from tech support I have yet again had to add another page. With delays in our funds our knew website will come later then we wanted The American Legion is the nations largest wartime veterans service organization aimed at advocating patriotism across the U. S. through diverse programs and member. He smiled he actually smiled and said, No problem. Let me take a look at your orders. He took a quick look at the orders and said, O. K. The building you have to report to is about a quarter mile down this street on the right side big brick building you cant miss it. When you get there, ask for Sergeant Perez. Hell get you squared away. I thanked him and began walk in the direction he had indicated. The MP shouted behind me, Wait I thought, OK, I knew that this was too good to be true this must be some kind of trap. Now, the hollering will begin. I turned in his direction and said, Yes He said, Its really too far for you to walk with that bag. Ill have someone drive you. OK, Jimbo, this must be some kind of a Twilight friggin Zone thing. There is no way that white helmeted, bloused trousered, pistol packinstaff sergeant MP just said that he would get me a ride because it was too far for me to walk with a heavy bag. But, thats what he said. The MP got on the phone, and in a minute or two a corporal appeared in an Army car and said, You the guy who needs a ride Hop in. During the short ride to my destination, I couldnt think of anything to say to the corporal, other than to thank him for the lift. Heres the barracks building he said. Sergeant Perez should be in the orderly room. Hell check you in. Watch Fire In Babylon Streaming there. I found the orderly room, and, just as promised, Sergeant Perez was there. He was a sergeant first class three stripes up and two rockers. Again, I found myself thinking that it was absolutely impossible for a sergeant first class to be anything other than mean and ornery. When I entered the room, breathless from having lugged the bag up the stairs, Sergeant Perez looked up from the papers on his desk, and said, Yes What can I do for you Wait a minute. This is the way civilized people speak. Sergeants dont talk this way. What in Christs name is going on hereIm reporting for duty, sergeant. Oh, you must be one of the new students. Youre a little early, but that is not a problem. Did he say studentsI could no longer contain myself. I blurted out, What is this placeYou dont know the sergeant said. No I dont, and I have not been able to find anyone who knows anything about this place. This is the United States Army Military Intelligence School. I stood there in silence trying to process it all.