Today I woke up and felt one of the most quasi-euphoric senses of false hope that I have ever experienced. During the night my head was filled with delusions of skating, fluffy clouds, and the concrete--standing still under my fast moving urethane--was the only sound as I bombed a massive winding hill in the outskirts of somewhere. All my blood was pumping, my eyes were open and the world was numb to the conflicts plaguing society. Then I woke up. Them is no skateboard, only my trusty M16 and the sweltering Baghdad sun. So, why am I here in Iraq? Let me tell you, it was a temporary lapse in sanity about a year and a half ago when my boy Habit said, "Hey, let's go talk to the Army recruiter." That is right about when the central control facility in my brain went on strike. So here I am in the army, lacking a skate and sweating away my sanity in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. I've been here six months. I'll be here six more. I just want to skate. Until then I will fall asleep at night with my Thrasher on my chest and AFI in my ears, only to dream of mini ramps, and a never ending fun box. Until next time, this is your friendly neighborhood Army guy saying: Send me a skateboard.
PFC Jason Allee
Sand and skateboarding don't mix. Ted