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Worldwide Ace » Stormy Weather

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Stormy Weather

24 June, 2008 (23:37) | Travelogue

I awoke to the pitter patter of raindrops. They splashed against the tin roof, echoing gently down into my sanctum. I tried to ignore it, but even rolling over and hiding beneath the covers didn’t prevent its gentle cooing from rousing me.

“Ben,” Denise called gently from the doorway, the purring cat in her arms adding to the gentle cacophony. Maybe, I thought, they won’t wake me if I pretend I’m still asleep. Not a moment later, my name banged upon my ear drum like a overzealous Dave Grohl. “Oh good,” she said. “You’re awake.”

I snorted my disapproval and rolled over, my eyes barely cracking in acknowledgment. “What time is it?”

“Nine thirty. My alarm went off a little bit ago.”

“Oh,” I said, realizing our day should’ve already begun. “Let me sleep for another half hour.”


I heard the door creak and the purring subside. I attempted to crawl back into my dreams, diving beneath the still warm comforter clutched in my hands. The rain would ruin everything, but only if everything happened.

A mere 10 minutes later, the cats noisily meowing for food, I couldn’t remain in bed any longer. Sleep wasn’t returning and we had errands to do. Apparently, everything would happen. Or at least, it would try to happen, whether I wanted it to or not.

Rather than roll out the door, we tarried as Denise surfed the web. Breakfast was calling my name, but I waited patiently for her to finish her daily digital affirmation. After nearly an hour, she suddenly looked up at me.

“Are you waiting on me?” she asked.

“I’ve been ready to go,” I said, the game controller falling from my hands to lie on the table.

“Oh,” she said, suddenly setting aside her computer and getting ready to go.

Our first stop was Old Hagåtña, a well-spoken of restaurant in the largest city in Guam. We walked in just as the clock struck eleven. The place was empty, save the few staff.

“We’ve just opened for lunch,” said the woman.

“Are you serving breakfast?” Denise asked hopefully.

“No. Breakfast is 7-10 on weekdays and 8-12 on weekends. We’re still open after breakfast, but it takes an hour for the kitchen staff to get ready for lunch, so lunch starts at 11 on weekdays.”

“Oh, cause the lady on the phone said breakfast was served all day.” I could hear the annoyance in Denise’s voice. This was the sort of thing she might show her claws about. You promised me breakfast and you better fucking serve me breakfast, I translated to myself.

“I’m sorry, she must’ve been mistaken. Would you like some lunch?” It wasn’t me who told you. I know better. And no, there’s no breakfast, the lady argued back in my head. Her pregnant belly jiggled with her apology.

“Are you sure you aren’t serving breakfast?” Oh, well, no. Lunch isn’t interesting. I would like some breakfast, though.

“Positive. Sorry.” Positive. Sorry… Maybe that one didn’t need a translation…

We ended up splitting an appetizer as my appetite disappeared when I saw the prices. The lettuce wraps were delicious, so perhaps they’ve earned their cost, but it’s still an adjustment seeing Guam-rated prices.

I thought I saw some sunlight as we sat at our booth, but when we left, it was raining lightly, the warm drops barely moistening me as we walked to the car.

Our next stop was Ross, to pick up a cheap pair of shoes. The mission was successful, though I couldn’t find a pair gaudy enough to please me for a reasonable price.

While there, Denise picked up a couple pairs of shoes as well and I ended up falling in love with two more shirts and a backup pair of sandals (nice leather Reefs that will last). I’ve made a pledge not to go back (except to return something) the rest of my trip. Given that I’ve bought new clothes exactly once in the last 3 years (and it was ski gear last winter), I figure I’m due.

We walked out of Ross as the clock neared two. Our intention had been to be back on base by around one so that we could go snorkeling at Fisheye, but given the weather, there’d be none of that. Even so, spending nearly two hours shopping for shoes and random accessories felt slightly absurd to me.

The rain had started falling harder, and I tightened my grip on the bags as we reached the car.

Our final stop was Pass and ID. After a long wait in line, we were ushered into a room with ID picture cameras. I waited patiently, wishing I had taken the time to shave and trim my beard that morning. In the end, no picture was necessary.

We stood there for what felt like hours, waiting for them to give me a pass. The men behind the counter argued a bunch, but eventually handed me a laminated card with my privileges listed. It was anticlimactic, but I finally felt official.

We drove back on base with no issues, my new ID card leading the way. Despite our best intentions, the clock was nearing four as we arrived back home.

Denise immediately turned around and hopped in Nikki’s car to go shopping again. The submarine returns next week and the wives are preparing by buying new dresses so they can look pretty and spend the money the boys would use to go out to the bars. It’s a win-win situation; pretty new clothes, no drunk husbands.

I meanwhile, spent a quiet evening bowling and playing video games with Nosedive.

The forcast calls for more rain through the remainder of July, but who knows if it’ll be heavy and non-stop as today or intermittent showers like previously. I’m hoping for the latter, but if it’s the former, I’ll just have to learn to ignore it for the beach.