After Bill Eger left theater, I moved down to the bottom bunk for a bit more privacy. I left my battle rattle on the top bunk, so nobody gets any wise idea about encroaching on my personal space. As the photo shows, I have about two feet between me and the two lockers for gear stowage. The floor could desperately use a vacuuming, but with shift workers sleeping at all hours of the day, that ain’t gonna happen. Thank God for shower shoes. Note the ever-present water bottles. If nothing else, they keep us well-hydrated here. It's about all I drink, except for coffee in the morning.
Here I am, cigar in hand, outside my tent, B9. A most fashionable address in the trendy Tent City neighborhood.
Astute observers ... or those with really sharp eyes ... will note the Eastport Yacht Club burgee on my shirt. I'm carrying the colors to the far corners of the earth. You can also clearly see the mounds of sandbags surrounding all our tents.
How's the food? You haven't mentioned that.
ReplyDeleteIs your gas mask going to seal with those chin whiskers?
ReplyDeleteYou might need it, not for the bad guys, but for your trip to the bogs.
Other than that, the place looks quite B9!