The North Carolina Trip Part #2: The Fort Bragg Sausagefest

Today Felton’s uncle drove us to Fort Bragg in his truck. On the ride over, his uncle explained that he is deaf in both ears and has effects from agent orange. As a result  he’s been retired since 1983 at the age of 44, receiving a full pension and disability. Through the car ride, he’s been selling us on joining the military and the benefits of having half your pay after twenty years of service. However if you have been reading the news the military is going to reevaluate their military pensions this year. This is because some military personnel can retire as early as 37 (17 years old when you enlist) and receive their pension immediately. Since our federal government is running out of money and this pension is proving unsustainable the military will consider having people collect when they are 62 years old

I also mentioned to Felton’s uncle that he doesn’t need to sell me on the military because for the longest time I have been trying to get in. For god’s sake I actually had the nerve to enlist the help of my congressman. I just want to know if Felton’s uncle would know a higher up….a flag officer (but being that there are only two hundred somewhat flag officers O-7 through O-10 in all of the military) I wasn’t surprised when he said he didn’t.

When we arrived at Fort Bragg we drove to the Pope Army Air Field and had lunch at the bowling alley. We all ordered fried flounder and fries and afterwards went to the commissary and found cheap goods. I guess that’s the only good thing about the military. I bought an MRE. (meal ready to eat) Later that night we went running downtown and afterwards went to Neville’s and Jefferson Inn. It’s wierd because for $8.25 gets you three beers and a whole lot of men. There must only be like three men in the entire bar. Felton met his high school friend. And when we went to the Jefferson Inn, I remember vividly offering to pay for another round of drinks even though I paid for two rounds at Neville’s. My line was “Do you know how much money I make at my job?” I also told the bartender I was quitting my finance job to relocate down here. And she said I was making a big mistake. “North Carolina is like the armpit of the south.” I thought she meant that it was the worst smelling part but Felton later corrected my interpretation as it being the hottest part of a person’s body, meaning it’s very hot down here.

After the closing of the inn, we went over to Felton’s high school friend’s house where they played with unloaded .45 caliber pistols and hunting rifles while I passed out on the couch. I don’t feel comfortable holding a gun which is the Army never really appealed to me. I never like shot them up games, or hunting. Heck I find it very difficult to eat pork, chicken and beef until recently. So I passed out on the couch at about 2am and an hour later Felton woke me up and I stumbled into the car to . If Southern Pines is like this then this is going to be a depressing weekend.


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