Overestimation of the Situation

I have no Idea what I was worried about. Everything I was afraid of was completely no problem: my uncle was great, Thanksgiving was awesome, and I only froze my butt off one day. I really think I overestimated the scariness of the situation. I had a great time.

When we first got there we went straight to sleep, it was one in the morning. We visited the national mall the next day, basking in all the things to do, while turning ourselves into Popsicles. We played with our cousins the rest of the night. Once we woke up, our cousins and us went to see the 9/11 memorial near the Pentagon. We played an epic game of Capture the Flag, and then went to bed.

When we woke up Thanksgiving morning, we immediately got dressed in buttoned-down shirts and slacks: we were eating at the Officers Club. The Officers Club was a big buffet with no rules, I could eat whatever, whenever.

On Friday we went to the movies and did some Christmas shopping a little later. Saturday: I went shotgun-shooting and visited a Civil War site, pulled an all-nighter and got ready to fly home. Unfortunately, the flight was canceled after we boarded, so we rented a hotel and went to see the law-enforcement memorial and museum of American history, ate at a hamburger joint, and prepared to once again wake up at one in the morning.

Through all that, I learned that you can't judge a book by it's cover, and you can't overestimate the situation. When you do, you get it wrong.

He Never Spoke Again

Ty opened the door, wincing as it creaked. Darc swore, so much for surprise. Seven heads turned to face them. Seven silenced shots rang, muffled, through the room. Seven bodies hit the floor. Ty lowered his pistol.

Picking his way through the room, Ty shoved bodies off computers and attempted to mop up blood from the screens. It was time to get to work. This city was home to a radical spokesman and his followers, Ty and Darc had a mission: eliminate him and anyone who gets in their way,

"What did you do that for?" Darc asked pointing at one of the dead technicians, " They're unarmed, they couldn't of hurt us." He sat down at a computer and looked at an open file: a map of the city with all the sewage systems highlighted, Darc printed it out, folded it, and tucked it into a pocket.

"They could have raised an alarm, besides..." Ty let the last word die as his jaw dropped, he stared at a computer screen, "This is our man, this is him"

TO\\COL. J. CARLSON\\
FROM\\CHICAGO INDUSTRIES\\

\\COL., THE OBJECTS YOU REQUESTED
HAVE ARRIVED, DO YOU WISH US TO
SHIP THEM TO YOU?\\

\\THEY ARE AS FOLLOWS:\\

\\100 S12-SNIPER RIFLES\\
\\350 XMB CARBINES\\
\\600 F23-FUSION PACKS\\
\\150 12-GAUGE-TROJAN SHOTGUNS\\

\\SHIPMENT MUST OCCUR IN NEXT 48 HOURS,
WOULD BE A SHAME IF MILITARY CONFISCATED THEM\\

Ty stared at the screen, Colonel Carlson had committed mutiny years ago, he had since spoken out against the government, he had also pilfered weapons and supplies from the military for years, which was one reason why Ty and Darc had been sent to eliminate him, but this, this was no small amount, this was a profusion of supplies, enough to raise a small army with just this shipment alone, who knew how many had happened before.

Darc stood up first, "What are we waiting for, lets kill the man already!" Darc grabbed his gear and headed out the door, rankled by the fact that the Colonel had sneaked weapons from under the military's nose.

"Sit Down!" Ty rebuked, "We're killing him, but we will not just walk out there! We will kill him so prudently that even he will not know that we were the ones who killed him!" Ty paused, "Where's the nearest sewer entrance?"

The two Marines crept through the sewer until they reached the center of the city, there he was, Colonel Carlson himself: giving a speech on how flawed the government was. Ty and Darc crept out of the sewer, inching towards the makeshift stage.

The Colonel paused in his speech, but he didn't continue speaking, he never finished his address. He never spoke again: his head was severed from his body, held together by a small piece of skin, blood seeped from his throat. Ty's knife left it as he and Darc ran firing their pistols at their pursuers. Ducking down a dark alley, they quickly scaled a building, hurling themselves onto a helicopter and flying away into the sunset. Mission: Accomplished.

The Waiting is the Worst Part of the Journey

Apprehension. Waiting. Wondering what it will be like. Hoping. Fearing. Getting ready for a

Thanksgiving unlike any other.

I typically have a very laid-back Thanksgiving, no fuss about the perfect dinner, clothes, hair. I wear whatever I like, eat whenever, don't comb my hair, don't care about how the turkey looks, I don't even really care about turkey. Not this year.

This year I'm heading to D.C. for the day that I'm supposed to be giving thanks. My mom's sister's family lives in the District of Columbia, amd I'm heading to their place. My uncle is in the Marines (he works at the Pentagon), and from what I hear he's strict on dress, etiquite, and promptness (not hat I have any major problems with any of those, but my parents are slightly lax on them). On top of that, We're eating Thanksgiving dinner in the Officer's Club: a fancy, high dress code military establishment. Plus, I haven't seen my cousins in years, and I don't know how differemt they are now. Add to that the fact that It's frigid in D.C. this time of year.

I do'nt know what to expect, I don't really know anything. All I know is that in less than twelve hours, I will be freezing my but off, and that the waiting is the worst part of the journey.