Ain't No Place for a Hero

Word Count: 300

  The sand blew through the air like baby powder as I walk from the Tarmac to collect my baggage at Baghdad International Airport, soaking into my lungs with years worth of death and the depleted uranium which caused it. I have to admit this was an excited time in my life... the first time I had ever been to an active war zone.

  I grabbed my bags and quickly headed inside, catching my next flight to my new home which I would be stationed at for the next year, C.O.B. Speicher. As I get to my new home, I’m told I have 24hrs of rack time before flight training tomorrow, but I could never really sleep with all the excitement. I was always nervous about flying in country, because of the reports of attacks that came in. I heard of the black hawks constantly being shot at and dropping out of the sky, but that was rotary wing and I’m in fixed wing I should be safe... right? 

I hop in my plane the next morning, perform a pre-flight check and so we take off. In a war zone you don’t take off like normal planes, you take off like a roller coaster. The goal is to get above 1000ft by the time you hit the wire so that the enemy’s small arms can’t shoot you down. As we exit the wire, I heard a loud “thump thump thump thump thump” like bullets shooting out of the plane. The flares had just fired off, and as I look out the window I see two people firing rifles at the plane. After not having any real sleep or relaxation in the past 24hrs the first words that came out of my mouth were, “Really? Really?? I just effin’ got here!”

The Point: Live every day like it’s your last, because it just might be.

My Urban Plaza

     Captain John O’Donnell of the East India Trading Company settled in Baltimore in 1780, and found the nationally historic neighborhood of Canton.  Even though John is long gone, his image remains alive today in the Canton square and the name of the surrounding street. The square is a small public area with a large statue of Captain O’Donnell in the center surrounded by a garden and benches within a fence. The square is largely visited by white people of the middle class who are sober by day and not so much by night. They come to quietly read their newspaper or book, and relax from the stressors of life. I did manage to see one homeless man enter the square, attempt to sleep on a bench, and was quickly told to leave by patrolling policemen. I would totally recommend the square to anyone in need of rest and relaxation.

Word Count: (149)

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