I'm hungry... I'm dirty... I'm losing my miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind...

Everything's fine.

I am not the Manish you saw nearly get beat up in sixth grade.
I am not the Manish you dragged kicking and screaming onto to rollercoasters in high school.
I am not the Manish that screamed when an opossum (an? a? I hate English) approached him in the woods near college.
I am not the Manish who miserably hiked Great Falls in a scrub top and jeans.

That may be the only Manish you know. I didn't want to be the one who had to tell you, but... he's dead.

I buried him at the top of Mt. Fuji.

Among my various travels while in Japan, I climbed Mt. Fuji, the highest peak in Japan. There are many legends that are associated with the hike. "If you come to Japan and don't climb Fuji, you will return to do so." "Everyone climbs Fuji, only a fool climbs it twice." "It is completely acceptable to cry both on the ascent and descent." (Ok, I may have made that last one up. But it should be.)

I know, you have many questions. Such as...
When did you do this?
Easy answer. The night of August 8th. We began climbing at 10:30 pm, in order to see the sunrise at the top of the mountain on Saturday morning.
Wait... WE?!?! Someone tolerating a trip up and down the mountain with the whiniest person I've ever known?
Yes. Much kudos go to the incomparable Dr. Adrienne Lopata, MD. Despite all disclaimers about my general attitude towards nature, and multiple warnings from others, she made the climb with me, and was a patient and kind companion.
Did you nerd out with oxygen tanks, Camelbaks, and hiking poles?
Lord no. But, in retrospect, any supplement probably would have helped.
How much were your shirpas?
Ha. That's not very nice. We did it on our own, with no guides.

The climb was actually not terrible. We took lots of 2-3 minute breaks once we got about halfway, just because we were getting winded due to the lack of oxygen. We also took a half hour break to get some warm food and enjoy the heating of a cabin about an hour from the top. We did reach the summit for sunrise... and it was breathtaking. Even more impressive were the tremendous number of people who were at the top with us; hundreds of people and tripods littered the top tenth of the mountain

While I may be describing what appears to be a difficult accomplishment, believe me when I tell you... we saw very young children (8ish) and VERY old men and women (>70) climbing alongside us (sometimes even passing us). What was funny was that nearly everyone had the same facial expressions hiking up: "Why the HELL am I doing this?" Alternating expressions of consternation, confusion, introspection, and--of course--choking fell across all the faces we saw. There are resting stations on the way up the mountain, where you can get your genuine Mt. Fuji Hiking Stick branded, and each rest stop is a small social event. Gaijins from everywhere accompanied us to the top.

And at the summit... all faces showed relief. During the actual sunrise, there were looks of awe at the sunlight reflecting off clouds below us which obscured all but the tops of the hills at the base of the mountain. But the rest of the party at the top resembled medical school graduation: tired laughs, beer, and lots of hugging despite the four layers everyone had just sweat through.

Proof? You want proof of the journey?

Just a pair of kids trying to make it in this cruel, cruel world.


Adrienne synchronizing her new GPS watch. For $300, it was able to tell us we had traveled 5 km in six hours.


At rest stop #7. The summit is station #10. We are still coherent and competent at this point.


This sign actually exists between station #7 and #8. We were racing towards who could first spit out the "Wrong turn at Albuquerque" joke. Strangely... there's NO OTHER PATH. We have no idea what the kanji characters are pointing to... death? destruction?


Layers are important. I'm thought it was near zero Kelvin in this picture, but I'm assured that it was closer to about 35 degree Fahrenheit. That said, I saw no non-human life after this point--no mountain goats, poisonous snakes, murderous lizards, and, of course, no oppossum.


Station ocho. Delirium had set in at this point... that grin is actually frozen on. Neither of us could move our faces.


Ooooooh! Photo OP! Quick, put down the baby and get in the picture!


One of the many sets of companions we met. These are Ze Germans... surprisingly friendly, and attempted to speak to us in Japanese until they realized that all we knew was sumimasen. They didn't even steal our cameras when we asked them to take pictures for us.


Adrienne the Explorer! Now available in stores, complete with novelty hiking stick!


If I ever release my new album of Indian-American love songs (including favorites like "You're my Mahat-mama," "You had me at Namaste," and "A Spoonful of Curry"), the cover will look something like this.


And of course... the requisite sunrise shot. The picture does not do it justice.


I can honestly say, this was the second hardest thing I've ever done. The new rankings:

1. Learn how to swim while going through aviation water survival school.
2. Hike Mt. Fuji.
3. Graduate medical school.

From the halls of Montezuma to the rocks of Iwakuni

-sigh-

I make promises I cannot keep.

My emails write checks that my blog cannot cash.

I can only apologize so many times.

Yes...it is my responsibility to maintain this blog to entertain you.
Yes...I've mentioned that I would update it once a month.
Yes...I've outright told you that I would do it this weekend, only that was five weekends ago.

Since we've last spoken, I have graudated from Aviation Medicine as a fully ordained, newly minted Naval Flight Surgeon (despite having my brother try to "wing" me in front of a number of Flag Officers while we were both either hungover or still drunk). I have taken some time to check in with friends on the East Coast, and then taken an airplane halfway around the world to land in Iwakuni, Japan. I learned a few things on the plane ride over here:

1. If you are female and under the age of twenty five, no amount of subtle hints that I would rather listen to my IPod or read my book will convince you that I am not interested in how inspired you feel about getting to teach English in South Korea. Actually, the statement "Okay, I'm going to go back to reading my book now" is no deterrent. Seriously. Please stop talking to me about it. Can't you see that I'm trying to read about... well, who cares? I'm trying to read!
2. When the government pays for your crosscontinental flight, you will have the middle seat in the middle section of a five person row for the 11 hour portion of your flight.
3. English translations over the loudspeaker read by Japanese natives sounds like...Japanese. It's certainly not Engrish.
4. Landing in Tokyo Narita is kind of walking into a Math Team meeting; avoid the kids on the floor playing cards with magical creatures on them, and ask for help from the people who do not avoid your eyes when you look at them.
5. EVERYONE who works in Tokyo Customs looks like a Final Fantasy character. Every single one of them. I'm fairly sure one of them hit me with a "Fog" spell.
6. I have not lost my youthful appearance. On arrival, the corpsmen that picked me up were going to ask me if I had seen the new Medical Officer that would have been on my plane. Thankfully, one of the personnel sent to pick me up knew me.

It has been quite a culture shock to land in Japan. The language is unintelligible and indecipherable (unlike Europe, where I can at least read the signs even I don't know what the words mean). The natives never want to speak English for fear of failure or ridicule. Hundred dollar dinners need to be paid for in cash.

All the good things you hear, though, are true. Sushi? Available on any street corner. Tacky advertisements that overuse words like "Number 1!" and "Very Super!"? They haunt my drive home. Vending machines that carry camera memory cards? Who knew more than one was not enough?

My job here has been an eye-opener. It is difficult to remember that, yes, someone has licensed me to practice medicine. Even more than that, someone has decided that I can see patients without another person looking over my shoulder to make sure that I am not going to kill said patient. It never hits me while I am seeing patients or finishing up paperwork. I remember (often in shock) that I'm a doctor when I am eating dinner, mulling over the people I have met that day, and realize that they've gone home thinking a doctor has told them that they would be okay. Then I vomit a little, have a nervous shiver, and get on with my meal. Quite standard, really.

It is fun to work with Marines. I compare them to high school students trying to get out of going to school: they've made it this far and know what excuses will and will not get them out of work/running/physical training/marching. I am the new doctor in town; apparently they'll try anything to pull the wool over my eyes. Fortunately, the enlisted corpsmen in the clinic provide me some protection. More than a dozen times I have been willing to give someone a note to get out of work and been pulled aside by a twenty year old sailor and been told "Sir, that Marine is trying to take advantage of you. Don't give in." That's when I respond, proudly, "HEY. I know what's going on here. You can't fool me." It's true; you're only as good as your help.

You take your car to work, I'll take my board...

It's winter here in the Sunshine State, which apparently means low 70s during the day and a bone-chilling -45 at night. It really screws with your wardrobe should you not have a chance to stop at home before a long night of debauchery.

That said, I have some cleaning up to do...

I am headed to Iwakuni, Japan, in February as the hospital flight surgeon there. If you look at a map, you may notice that it is near Hiroshima, home of the Samurai. Meaning... I'm definitely getting a Samurai sword. Preferably one made by Hattori Hanzo, but I'm not picky. I am excited, and as a friend has mentioned to me, I have to make sure I climb Mt. Fuji while I'm there. Will do. Maybe.

I am finished with my airplane training: four weeks flying a T-34 prop. The nerve-wracking part of it? It's a two seated plane, but as the student, I SIT IN THE FRONT. The instructor, seated in the rear cockpit, only has vision to the sides of the aircraft. Which means I had complete responsibility for making sure we did not run into birds, or planes, or water towers, or power lines, or spaceships, or lighthouses, or whatever may break the horizon. As we all know, giving me responsibility for actually seeing something clearly is a poor decision for all. I left many a flight perspiring from the stress.

On the upside, the instructors were very lax in what they allowed me to do in the plane. Unlike the helicopter which was as difficult to control as a herd of cats, the T-34 is remarkably stable, and really flies itself. So, of course, the instructors allowed me to do some fun aerobatics, including barrel rolls, loops, split-S's, aileron rolls, spins... all things that make most people puke. Luckily for me, I have the stomach of a man raised on Indian food, and I never needed the heavy duty ziplock bag I carried on for every flight.

Next...

[after finishing the mile swim, a Marine helps me out of the water]
Marine: You finished! Hoo-rah!
Me: -laughing- Hoo-rah!
Marine: Uh, sir... you can't laugh when you say hoo-rah; it defeats the point.

[instructor attempting to describe the fire routes out of the building]
Instructor: So basically... figure out where the fire is, and run away from it. Don't wait for me... I'll probably already be outside running for my life.

The aviation academic curriculum is often challenging for the flight surgeons, many of which have never been in a plane at all, nor have studied engineering as undergrads. So the instructors take their potshots at us when they can...

Brandon: Sir, what exactly is the downwash?
Instructor: This isn't rocket surgery... just memorize what the book says.

Me: Sir, I'm not sure I understand the definition of stability here.
Instructor: It's like a paper airplane. You put a paperclip on the front to make it fly farther, right? You've played a lot with paper airplanes, right, doc?
Me: Well, sir, I had a lot thrown at me in high school, if that's what you mean.
[class laughs]
Instructor: Nice work.
.
.
.
Marine: Sir, we heard you make that paper airplane joke, and the for the rest of class, we were debating whether or not we should make and throw an airplane at you.
Me: Oh, that would have been funny. Why didn't you do it?
Marine: Well, sir, you DO outrank us. It would be... inappropriate.

Me: Teaching the swim instruction must be boring.
Instructor: No, sir. It's great entertainment. You should see the looks on people's faces when they think they're drowning even though they're wearing helmets that float.

My friend Vanu, a UVA English grad teaching at a NoVa high school, walked into her classroom this year (months ago) and saw this poster! Not exactly the role model we'd assume.

A friend of mine, Gregory Hess, has joined up with some hooligans to start the Cook County Social Club. They have put a video on YouTube, and I promised Greg that if I laughed, I'd post it here.

An old friend of mine turned poet just got a poem published at slate.com. Check it out, and make sure to click the link to hear her read it!

For those of you who have known my friend Little Ryan for a few years... Ryan has found his avian soulmates.

Here's what's disappointing... First, I go to see Aries Spears doing stand up and he steals a joke from me that I've been telling for years. I'm not sure how he heard it, but now if I ever become a stand up, I'll have to ditch the joke. THEN... I'm calmly watching CBS on a Monday night, and THIS HAPPENS.

When I make my first music video, it will be an homage to this one. [if you listen carefully, the chorus is one-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero... one million!]

I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end

One day late...

In memory, 1stLT D. Ryan Mcglothlin, KIA November 16, 2005.

It's been two years since Ryan's death, and his memory still hangs over me. We have just received our billet list of flight surgeon spots, and it is likely that I will be forward deploying with the Marines... "going greenside," if you will. Although I've shared these with everyone numerous times, this is a repeat of yet another list of things Ryan said to me during our short but colorful friendship:

[To Ryan Carra] "Ryan, you may feel ok now, but in the morning, you're going to feel like you've been eaten by a billy goat and shit off a cliff."

[about a nuclear mechanics exam] "It was harder than a three-legged cat trying to bury a turd in the snow."

[about the lack of a/c in our PChem class] "It's hotter than two rats fucking in a woolsock in here." -OR- "It's hotter than a whore in church."

[about why he brought a handle of crappy whiskey to a college party] "Sometimes there isn't anything that I want to drink, so I bring my own."

[on the romantic horizon at Stanford] "I'm peelin' 'em off like leather pants."

For those of you that don't remember the details, or would like to refresh your memory: go here. Incidentally, the statements about being mentioned in Bush's speech are true.

Finally, if there is anything I learned from Ryan, it is that he went to great lengths to see his friends regularly. Before deploying, he went around the country spending time with his friends everywhere, and no one I spoke to at the funeral had gone long since seeing him. In his memory, I would urge you to call at least one person that you have not spoken to in over a year and catch up. If need be, bring a duffle bag filled with cans of beer and a plate filled with bacon and watch some college football together. Make sure, though... don't forget to get angry about the BCS.

I'm ready to let go of the steering wheel...

...I'm ready for the push.

Fans, I'm one more flight away from completing my initial helicopter training. It's been a terrifying ride so far, but I'm having a great time scaring the crap out of instructors and ground crew alike. So let's catch up a bit...

As mentioned in my previous post, I did complete the two week survival course (except the simulated parasailing, which I had to get waivered given that I had sprained my knee). I unfortunately was unable to take video of myself participating in these events, either because we were not allowed to (confidentiality) or because we were in the water and I didn't want to ruin my camera.

Fortunately, my predecessors have shot some wonderful video...

The SWET chair is a simulated pilot seat on an axle above the water. With helmet, flight suit, vest, and flight boots on, the student pilot is strapped into the pilot seat, and then dunked into the water (the linked video is excellent). Two rides are required; the second ride is blindfolded. After being dunked, the student has to drag him/herself approximately twelve feet and go through a door before resurfacing. It's scary. Take as big a breath as you want, the water flows into your sinuses and your heart rate quickens. Each time was the longest ten seconds of my life.

The helodunker is a metal cylinder suspended about 15 feet above the water that can seat six student pilots. Student pilots are equipped with helmet, boots, and flight suits, seated in the dunker, and strapped in. The dunker drops in the water, turns over, and rocks back and forth. After the dunker stops moving is when the dunker occupants are allowed to unlatch their seatbelts and escape from dunker. The dunker has three windows from which you can exit (the video shows a large exit on the back of the cylinder; you are not allowed to leave via that exit). Each seat in the dunker has an assigned window through which you can leave. Finally... three rides are required, and the student is blindfolded for the third ride. It's frightening to watch, but really, I was only underwater for five to six seconds (although during my blindfolded ride, I was submerged for 12 seconds before I escaped). Just like the SWET chair, water was in my sinuses, and I was very disoriented while underwater and upside down. Also, I think I kicked one of my fellow students in the head (helmet) on our way out of the second ride. I apologize for not having video of my dunker exploits; my classmates enjoy describing the looks of horror on my face as the dunker impacted the water.

But enough about underwater scares; these survival classes were just a stepping stone to the real fun: flying! I'm two weeks into basic helicopter training. The purpose of my training is to get flights in an TH-57 to familiarize myself with the particular stresses involved with flying. Flight surgeons get three daytime flights, one nighttime flight, and one tactical flight.

The daytime flights are primarily designed to get have us get some experience flying the helicopter. Depending on the instructor, we get to learn how to hover in the helicopter, take off, land, fly at altitude, and autorotations. Autorotations are simulated engine failures; imagine a helicopter that no longer has power turning the rotors. Said helicopter usually falls to the ground like a brick. Learning to cope with an engine failure is one of the first things that the helicopter pilot learns how to do.

The tactical flight is essentially a scavenger hunt. With a prepared map of landmarks, my responsibility was to navigate while my instructor flew. I gave him a heading and a distance to fly with landmarks to keep an eye out for before we hit each checkpoint. Real students (not the flight surgeons) also have to keep an eye on wind and speed, because they are evaluated on finishing the course in a certain window of time. Therefore, they are also responsible for giving their instructor directions on when to speed up and slow down, as well as how to correct for wind.

The interesting thing about flight training is watching the interaction between the instructors and the students. The flight surgeons are treated as peers by the instructors; they are well aware that we are not training to be pilots and already have assigned duties with each squadron, so they are able to relax and have fun with us in the aircraft. However, the student pilots have to finish the curriculum so that they may be "winged without reservation." The relationship between instructor and student pilot is very similar to the relationship between cardiothoracic surgeon and intern. There's bullying, pimping, judgment, evaluation... it is nerve wracking to watch. Each morning before a flight, the student pilot has to prepare approximately 10-20 pages of material regarding how the TH-57 works, whether the day's subject is hydraulic systems or flight rules. The instructor then pimps the student about the material that was prepared. Watching these students get grilled every morning gave me horrible horrible flashbacks of morning medicine rounds. The only difference? If I screwed up in the hospital, someone else would die. If these students screw up? They die. Dramatic, yes. But there's a reason why they say that each page of the NATOPS (aircraft instruction manual) is written in blood.

Back to the training: I'm a terrible helicopter pilot. I grip the cycle (think joystick) like I'm trying to squeeze the color out of it, the inputs I put in are too dramatic, and I get nervous when the helicopter tilts at an angle. Then again, the instructors continue to remind me that I'm just as good as any of the student pilots when they start out. The strange part is, although I know I'm not any good, there's still a little swagger in my step when I get out from a couple of hours of flying. That swagger is especially noticeable when walking to the hanger after a flight, carrying my helmet in one hand and peeling off my flight gloves with the other. If there was a big fire behind me, it would look like a scene out of Independence Day.

Here's a photo of Andrew (a fellow flight surgeon student) and myself preparing to go fly:


Andrew is also the cameraman behind the following videos, taken during my second daytime flight...here's my approach to the TH-57:


The goal, during this flight, is for me to learn how to hover. There's a box mown into the grass which is my guide; I have to stay within the box and five feet off the ground. If I'm successful, it will look like the helicopter isn't moving. You'll notice... success is the last thing I have:


Here's a moment that I actually pull off hovering for a short period:


And here's me at my worst:


Lastly, here are my final moments attempting to hover during my second flight:



Did you know that JD and Turk (from Scrubs) went to William & Mary? It's true! During one of JD's season six flashbacks, there are Tribe posters everywhere! Very exciting.

Did you know that Tim Matheson of Animal House fame directed the second episode of Bionic Woman? He also directed, among other shows, an episode of Burn Notice and The West Wing!

This must be... POP!

First of all... it has been less than a month since my last post. I think I deserve a medal.

Second... I am finally a graduate of API. Yes, that means I passed the helicopter dunker, the SWET chair, the altitude chamber, and everything else that made me soil my pants in anticipation. Granted, I came away with a sprained knee, but that's ok, I have two of them. Plus, a sprained knee gives me an excuse to stay on my couch, ice up my knee, and kick the crap out of Zelda villians until I "heal." Everyone's willing to cart my ass around, and beer plus painkillers is just so damn good.

I know what you're thinking... where are all the funny anecdotes? I promise, they're coming. Perhaps you're also asking, "What does Manish think about all the summer TV and the new fall premieres?" Let me tell you, please:

Burn Notice: I can't believe no one told me about this show... I had to find it on my own. Classic formula... good looking people solving crimes, a couple of funny gags, and late night cable. But this one has Gabrielle Anwar, of Scent of a Woman/For Love or Money fame. And she remains gorgeous while playing an Irish psychopath in love with the lead character. Bruce Campbell (another winner) does a great job in the cuddly, sidekick for comic relief role. Unfortunately, Jeffrey Donovan (of Vance Munson fame), is pretty awful. He does not convey emotion well, nor is his delivery funny. Still, it's a fun, brainless show, and I encourage viewing, if for no other reason than Anwar.

Heroes: I'm never objective about shows regarding superheroes (although I have somehow managed to not ever watch Smallville or The 4400), and I am not objective about Heroes. However, the season premiere was great. No real dropoff in drama, excellent set up of plotlines for the season, and the occasional dig at the whole "Save the Cheerleader" phenomenon. I'm excited. Also, the show is completely different in digital HD, not only for the picture, but the fun of being able to rewind and rewatch parts with subtle clues.

Chuck: How could I not love this show? NBC has hyped it well, and it is about a computer geek that gets to play spy games while rolling around with a hot blonde. NBC has done this for years... Seinfeld, Ross Geller, JD, Jim Halpert, Niles Crane... the nerds always get hot chicks. It truly gives us real nerds an occasional twinge of hope. As for the premiere... I liked it. I watched it alone, and I literally yelled out loud at the screen when the Zork reference was made. Zork. I wish I had played sports. A lot of obvious jokes, but the slapstick was good and I can give it some rope just because the plot requires a set up episode. I am concerned that the show is limited... the premise does not seem able to support a season's worth of shows. To be re-examined...

How I Met Your Mother: I have a bad feeling about this show. Season one? Very funny. Season two? Less funny, but still funny (especially with the Crazy Eyes and the Slap Bet). Season three? Not funny so far, and... CBS's premiere night was sponsored by Cadillac, and in the final scene of the episode, a Cadillac reference is made. Then, Mandy Moore plugs her new album at the end of the episode just because she had a bit part in it. It made me want to vomit. (And yes, I recognize that Heroes does the same thing with Nissan... but I've already stated, I'm not objective about superhero shows.)

I am not planning on watch Journeyman, since I cannot see how Scott Bakula can ever be replaced. I am also not planning on watching Bionic Woman unless someone I trust tells me that it's a good show. And I am definitely not going to watch The Big Bang Theory, because although I fully support nerds getting hot blondes, it has to be haphazard for me. If it's the premise of the show... it doesn't fool me.

I am excited about House, but concerned about the potential copout of bringing the three fellows back. I'm excited about The Office because Season 3 was the best season yet, and although the Jim/Pam thing might start to work out, I don't think the show will fizzle. Frasier died when Niles got Daphne, but that was due to the humor involved in Niles' secret crush. Office has never drawn on Jim/Pam for humor, which hopefully means the show will continue to be funny.

I wish I had more to say about the movie landscape... but I haven't seen any movies since Superbad. And reviewing Superbad now is a little late.

I would also like to reassure some of my readers out there... Yes, I am doctor. It is not necessarily true that "doctors are supposed to be sleepy and grumpy, and don't use phrases like 'silly hot.'" Seriously. I am a doctor.

Also, a note from Emilie, who was congratulated in a previous blog post:
"I was honored to see I was featured in your blog!:) With funny narrative comments and everything! Did you know I still have the bodies (and/or brains) of all 12,000 butterflies I reared (and then "sacrificed")? Some people find that disturbing, and yet a little amusing:)"

She's not kidding, folks.

On not kidding... my first flight in a helicopter is next Wednesday, should my knee heal up well enough and the weather remain calm. I get five total helicopter flights; three normal day training flights, one night flight, and one tactical flight. I also get three simulator flights, which should also be fun. If you're curious about when exactly I'll be up in the air (so that you can take cover), just google "HT-18," click on the first link, and find the schedule for the HT-18 squadron flights.

I've been looking so long at these pictures of me...

...that I almost believe that they're real.

(I also considered "Would you take my picture...", but I didn't think that song had as much universal appeal.)

Yesterday, I finally graduated from swim survival after completing the last event, swimming a mile in a flight suit. Thirty-six laps, 62 minutes. As I intimated before, the swimming class here is designed to help us survive an aircraft crash into the water. What I learned while I was here? Apparently, most people can swim. Or, most people in the Navy can swim (I know you're shocked). Also, the doggie-paddle does not count as swimming.

These were the water survival events:

WS-1/2: Leap off a 12 foot tower, feet first, swim 100 yards (25 of the breaststroke, 25 of the backstroke, 25 of the sidestroke, and 25 of the crawl), then 5 minutes of the dead man's float. All without touching the side or the bottom of the pool.
WS-3: Tread water for two minutes in a bathing suit, followed by 3 minutes of the dead man's float.
WS-4: Tread water for two minutes in a bathing suit, followed by 3 minutes of the dead man's float. Twist? Add steel tipped boots (a few pounds a piece).
WS-5: Tread water for two minutes in a bathing suit, followed by 3 minutes of the dead man's float. Twist? Add steel tipped boots (a few pounds a piece). Twist #2? Add a 15 lb vest, and gloves.
WS-6: Tread water for two minutes in a bathing suit, followed by 3 minutes of the dead man's float. Twist? Add steel tipped boots (a few pounds a piece). Twist #2? Add a 15 lb vest, and gloves. Twist #3? Add a helmet.
WS-7: Jump feet first from a 12 foot tower, and swim 15 yards underwater before resurfacing.
WS-8: Swim 200 yards (50 yards a piece of the aforementioned strokes) without stopping. Then gear up with suit, vest, gloves, boots, and helmet, and swim 75 yards with all the strokes except the crawl.
WS-9: Swim one mile (36 laps of the pool) without touching the sides or bottom of the pool. 80 minute time limit.

Perhaps, you are not terrified by the above propositions. I was. The vest appears light when out of the water, but the second it gets wet, it essentially feels like an anchor around your neck, pulling you to the nether regions of the pool (and I've been told that there are sharks down there). The boots are heavy, they're not the right size, and most importantly, you can't feel the flow of water across your feet, so there's no positive reinforcement of your swimming kicks (except not drowning). The gloves and the flight suit significantly increase drag.

However, I finally passed! Now if I can only post some pictures (thanks to Josh and Christian for the photos/video)...

Me and Christian in wet flights suits after a dip in the pool:



You can see that I'm not happy in the water. This is me, mid-backstroke, sinking in the water while attempting to give the finger to the photographer.



Full gear (helmet, flight suit, gloves, vest, boots) staying afloat while my pulse climbs to about 3000 beats a minute. Video follows... even now, when I watch it, I feel like I'm dying a little.





These are photos from the tower jump with boots on. First, I'm steeling myself up for the jump (by the by, standing like Superman surprisingly does not make me feel like Superman). Then, a picture actually happens to catch me mid-air, and if you notice, I'm about 2 seconds from a complete faceplant in the water. Believe me, it was not pleasant. Note: what takes me so long in the video is that the instructor is trying to pump me up into trying the jump. It took a lot of pumping.






Also to be noted: That was my first jump. Of fifteen. I did not make it even close to 15 yards on my first jump. Jump #9 got me to the 8 yard mark. Reportedly, Jump #10 found me completely parallel to the surface of the water (which I felt as the wind got knocked out of me).

A final word: As terrifying as this class has been, I'm a much better swimmer for it. Also, the instructors and staff down here in Pensacola are phenomenal, and certainly inspire a feeling of safety. Which is hard when you have panicking Indian guy in the water screaming for his Mommy.

My sorrows, they learned to swim

...so why can't I?

Another long pause in blogging, I know... and the excuses I could come up are thin. You'll forgive me, I'm sure.

First... congratulations:

Emilie, the Genghis Khan of Butterflies, has successfully defended her PhD thesis, and merely awaits the paperwork in November to certify her as a fake doctor. This from the same girl that told me that she could keep a butterfly in an envelope for three days in a refrigerator and it would still survive. And, while you'd think working for four years on the most efficient ways to kill butterflies individually would take her to a more glorious end point... she's moving on to Indiana to STUDY DUNG BEETLES. Included in this project is an annual trip to replenish the dung stores. Sounds like a terrifying harvest dance.

Jessica has begun the journey towards her jurisdoctorate. Just think... in a mere three years, she'll be slowly dying as she awaits her Bar Exam results.

Jeff and Ryan will be defending their own PhD theses in October and next summer, respectively.

Allison Strick (now Allison Siller) pulled off a gorgeous wedding in Charlottesville, VA. That's my third Charlottesville wedding... it would appear to be a wonderful city to have a wedding.

Updates:

I have arrived in Florida, and I'm pretty sure it's part of a different country. It's always hot (it was 88 degrees F two days ago... at 10 PM), it's always humid, it's in a different time zone, and the insects are bigger and I'm sure more poisonous. The nearest grocery store to me is... a Walmart.

On the other hand... I only have to use a third of my wardrobe (I have worn jeans since arriving here), I live on a golf course, and I live about two miles from a beach. The bars serve cheap beer and food, the seafood is delicious, and I live close to NAS Pensacola, where I spend all my non-home time. It's odd to live in a city that has a large population that comes here primarily for weekends in a resort. The beach is lined with tall buildings that look like hotels, but are really condos for sale and for rent to those willing to pay lots of money to stay on the beach. Half of the beachfront architecture was decimated by Hurricane Ivan... The most popular bar on the Gulf Coast, Flora-Bama, was reduced in size by half. Hurricanes be scary.

Flight Training:

I'm two weeks into Airflight Preflight Indoctrination, aka API. This is a six week course for all Naval/Marine Aviators/Flight Officers designed to provide an academic background in aviation before 22 year olds are put in charge of taking care of $40 million aircraft. Flight surgeons are also required to take the course for a number of reasons, including increasing our credibility with our patients. Apparently, pilots are more likely to trust doctors who have been through the same trials they have.

The course can be broken up into three parts: the lectures, which revolve around aerodynamics, weather, engines, navigation, rules/regulations, etc; swim survival (more on this in a bit); and general survival techniques (helicopter rescue, parasailing, low pressure chamber exposure, spin-and-pukes). Because many of the students in API are right out of college, the each lecture in the first week was preceded by a diatribe on studying hard... OR ELSE. More "you're gonna fail" scare tactics were used than when I was in medical school. And we all know how that ended.

When the swim class is finished, I'll post with my own difficulties, hilarities, and (best of all) pictures and videos detailing "Manish goes to the pool!"

Also coming: funnies from class, funnies from friends, and perhaps some pop culture commentary.

Midnight Marauding

Quick notes...

The Transformers movie is incredible. SLB puts in a decent performance, Megan Fox is silly hot, and the robots are, well, it brings a tear to my eye. Finally, a summer blockbuster that lives up to the hype. FINALLY.

I would also like to thank the Luffmans for their wonderful hospitality over the Fourth of July. In exchange, I did introduce them to the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

Gotta get myself connected

I am not sure if you realize this (why would you, really?), but I just graduated from my internship on Friday. Granted, I find it strange that Sicko opened on the same day that I get to be offended if someone calls me an intern, but I am still excited/relieved/terrified.

You all know where I am going. Pensacola. Pensacola, Florabama. To go to Flight School. For those of you who are confused...
Yes: I will be going to flight school.
Yes: I will be learning how to fly planes.
Yes: Real planes.

More specifically, I will leaving Portsmouth, VA, on July 7th to go to Washington, DC, for about five days. I'll leave DC likely on June 12th for a long, lonely, humid drive to Pensacola with only the voice on my GPS for company. If you're in my phone, expect a phone call to help me get through the trip.

I am also using this opportunity to list my goals for the next six months:
1. Learn how to golf.
2. Learn how to surf.
3. Learn how to play the guitar.
4. Run a half marathon.
5. Apply for my MBA.

[During an operation in a sterile operating room]
Me: Umm, Derek, look at the patient's shoe.
Derek: Whoa, is that what I think it is?
Me: Dude, that dude has dogshit on his shoe.
Derek: Isn't it supposed to be sterile in here?
Me: Yes? Well, it's just eye surgery. What's the worst that can happen?
Derek: Manish, do you really want "Dogshit particles embedded in corneal transplant" to be the disease they name after you?

[During Internal Medicine frisbee game]
Me: There's nothing like a pissed off Nephrologist!
Kristin: Seriously, Manish, we need you to stop with the medical jokes.

Dr. Arluk: Manish, you look like you're post call.
Me: That I am, sir... in fact, I'm post my last intern call ever!
DA: That's strange, you're not smiling enough.
Me: Sorry, sir, I'm a little tired.
DA: Manish, after my last intern call, all you could see was teeth.

[On graduation day, in my choker whites]
Nurse: Dr. Singla! Looking like a real Naval Officer for the first time!
Me: C'mon, that's not fair. I do what I can.
Nurse: Is that polish on your shoes? And the correct ribbons on your chest?
Me: I screwed up my ribbons ONCE!
Nurse: Either way, I'm proud to have worked with you, SIR! [mock salute]

Back up in your ass with the resurrection...

Yes, it's been a while. Yes, I have no excuse. Yes, I'm a lazy, lazy man. Yes, I had high hopes of being motivated to maintain this blog weekly. Yes, the ARL has more constant and entertaining updates than my blog. For that, I apologize. I would blame it on my head-to-toe sunburn, but somehow I bet there is no sympathy waiting for me out there.

Life updates? I have four weeks left of my internship. I have passed my last set of licensing boards (until I specialize), which means that my license application is now being reviewed (and hopefully rubber stamped) through the Commonwealth of Virginia. It's yet another expensive hurdle in attempting to become a "real" doctor.

In five weeks, I'm off to Pensacola. I have not yet found a place to live, but I'm ready to surf! Or... learn how to surf. Or... watch hot surfers. On TV.

I spent a recent weekend in Philadelphia, and realized, it would have been a nice city to go to college in. It's small, but has a diverse set of entertainment outlets. And the cheesesteaks are delicious. Thanks to the Carpenters for their incredible hospitality, and of course to the Ballet for teaching me how to dance.

Pop culture of note:

Lily Allen's new album (I know, I'm a few months late) may be the best break up album since Jagged Little Pill. In fact, I think I can best describe her as a British love child of Norah Jones and Alanis Morrisette. Her melodies give a real sense of innocent security, but the lyrics are... devastating. Paraphrasing the words of a close friend, I wish I was in a relationship that warranted a big break up, just so that I could enjoy that album more.

You like that song "Smile"? Check this out...

I just saw The Devil Wears Prada. I thought it was great. Why mention it here? Because everyone who asks or wonders if being an intern/resident training to be a physician is correctly portraying on TV, I always have to hedge my answers. Scrubs? Medically accurate, and tends to portray the right emotions involved in controversial patients. House? Medically preposterous (but fun), and in no way accurately portrays the relationships within a hospital. Grey's Anatomy? I have no idea, but I get the idea that there is more sex in call rooms in one episode than occurs in an entire year of real life. The most accurate likeness to being an intern? The Devil Wears Prada. No other movie or show that I've ever seen better conveys the sheer amount of despair of working for someone who expects full service of idiosyncratic demands. Hathaway's first day on the job completely resembles the first day on any rotation by an intern. On the other hand, there are pitifully few scantily clad models roaming your average hospital. Pitifully few.

So far the summer sequels are 0/3. Spiderman 3? Spiderman uses the word Shazam. Unacceptable. Pirates 3? It went Attack of the Clones on all its fans. And Shrek 3? Take out a baby face from Donkey, and it's all dreck.

Dr. Smullen: Chris! No one told me that they were closing down two rooms on the Psych floor!
Chris: Sorry, sir. They're painting the rooms.
DS: Oh, well, then just put the detox-ers in there. They won't even notice.

voice: Manish!
me: Yo--oh, Captain Chastanet, I didn't realize it was you, ma'am.
CC: It's ok, Manish, "yo" is fine.
me: sorry, ma'am. I thought you were Kristin.
CC: Manish, at some point, someone will have to teach you how to address those that outrank you. Not everyone in the fleet will think you're cute and funny.

Dr. Ruland: Just remember, Manish, pilots get more chicks than surgeons and cardiologists put together. Always tell them you're a pilot.

Hillary: I've never been so impressed with a group of people as I was last week when I was in the ER.
Hillary: You guys are saints. Total saints.
Me: Wow. That's very nice of you to say.
Hillary: And I told it to everyone who helped me.
Hillary: The guy I puked on, the lady who helped me in the bathroom, the nurse who yelled at me to stop hyperventilating...I was like, fuck, man, you guys are amazing.

Me: Sir, do you smoke?
Patient (61 years old): Yes, about a pack a day.
Me: Sir, are you planning on quitting. It can decrease your risks for heart and lung disease.
Patient: Really, you think that if I quit smoking, I won't need all these inhalers?
Me: Well, we can reduce the number.
Patient: And you think it'll mean I'll have less chance of a heart attack?
Me: Of course, sir!
Patient: No one has ever put it that way to me, doc, thanks!
Me: My pleasure, sir, and we have lots of me--
Patient: Doc--of course I know smoking is bad for me. It was just fun to see your eyes light up.

Patient (81 years old): Doc, I have a story to tell you!
Me: Yes?
Patient: Well, after the last time I saw you, I went to the grocery store, and saw another Indian man!
Me: Oh?
Patient: Yes! And I ran up to him, shook his hand, and said "It was nice meeting you. Now I know two Indian people, you and my doctor!"

Dr. Reed: Am I the only one you guys joke around with?
Me: No, ma'am. We joke around with all the staff on rounds.
DR: Oh come on. You guys don't mess with Dr. Chastanet, do you?
James: We don't. Manish does. It often results in uncomfortable silences.

Can't leave rap alone, the game needs me

For those of you who felt that I had retired from the blogging world, I apologize. It's been a busy few weeks, and I am unable to come up with a good excuse for not investing some time here (although, Rick Carpenter did suggest that maybe I didn't post in honor of Black History Month). On the news front, I have attempted to switch into an earlier Flight Medicine class which would start on July 7, meaning I now only have about four months to learn how to swim. Wish me luck. I also just signed up for blockbuster.com movie rentals, and my movie list is the following:

illusionist, devil wears prada, stranger than fiction, little miss sunshine, borat, prestige, inconvenient truth, friends with money, good night and good luck, broken flowers, capote, memoirs of a geisha, tenacius D and the pick of destiny, sin city, mulholland drive, ghost world, lucky number slevin, lord of war, syriana, matador, manhattan, manhattan murder mystery, domino, fire, scoop, comedien, wordplay, dave chapelle block party, march of the penguins, and man of the year

I'll be happy to hear if there's something I've left out. I'm very excited.

DP: And what do we call it when an old person has an elevated pulse pressure with a normal diastolic pressure?
Me: Hypertension?
DP: Isolated systolic hypertension. Do you think that's normal in old people, Manish?
Me: Yes?
DP: Correct. Rule #1 of medicine: Don't mess with the elderly.

DP: So, Manish, you've just heard a Code Blue over the loudspeaker, and ten minutes later, the ICU doors fly open and you're sitting there as they wheel in an old woman with a tube down her throat and a respiratory technician squeezing a bag of air into her lungs. As they hook up her up with all the wires, the RT asks you, "Doc, what vent settings do you want?" What do you say?
Me: Umm, after I soil my pants?
DP: Fine, after you change your scrubs, then what do you say?
Me: I dunno... pressure control, rate of 12, FiO2 of 100--
DP: No. You say, "The usual settings."
Me: Sir?
DP: You say "the usual settings." Then they'll write the orders for you and you sign them. Sometimes an uppity RT will say, "what do you mean, doc?", and then you just say "The usual settings" louder, and leave the room in a huff.

DP: So, Manish, can you think of any good reason to put someone on SIMV?
Me: Well, the RTs always suggest it in the middle of the night.
DP: That's mostly so that they can snicker when I ask you in the morning why you did it and you struggle to answer.

Dr. Killian: Manish, are you still on the ICU?
Me: I only have two more days, sir.
DK: Oh, that's too bad. I don't like having new interns.
Me: You seemed to like us fine, sir.
DK: Of course, but I prefer to have interns after they've had a few weeks there. That way, they're more confident before I spit on their egos.

[I wasn't actually there for this one, but I heard about it]
Patient (recently admitted coming back to ER): You know, the last time, the doctor who took care of me here was really nice to me.
Resident: Oh, who was it?
Patient: Umm... I can't remember his name. But he was "foreign."
Intern: Do you remember what he looked like?
Patient: Yeah, he was dark, and very energetic--
Intern/Resident: Dr. Singla?
Patient: Yes! That's it.

Dr. Inouye: You can't compare screening for breast cancer and lung cancer.
Dr. Rascona: That's right. Lung cancer usually has a controllable element to it, namely smoking. Women ...[long pause]... they just have breasts.

You say the spark's gone, well I'm no electrician

First... Unless you're planning on see The Queen to prove to yourself that Helen Mirren is a good actress, it's pretty much a terrible movie.

Second, and I usually don't do this, but you have to see this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vo7Sng5Jeb0

Med Student: Manish, do you ever buy lunch?
Me: What do you mean?
MS: You always disappear for lunch, and we never see you at the galley or at KenTacoHut.
Me: Well, Tuesday is lunch in the AIC, Thursday is usually lunch in Cardiology, Friday is lunch in Heme-Onc, and at night, if the right nursing crew is on, the CCU has a spread. I just have to get plugged into Neurology, but those nurses don't know me yet. Radiation oncology almost never has lunch, but I'm on their drug rep dinner list.
Dr. Pizarro: See, there is good intern to student teaching! And you should go, because drug reps get offended if no one goes to their lunches, and then the reps stop coming.

[I walk into a comatose patient's room, and 8 family members are in the room visiting]
Me: Good morning, everyone. [patient] seems to be doing well, and I think we might be able to take him off the ventilator today or tomorrow.
Brother#1: Great! Hey doc, were you here overnight?
Me: Yeah, why?
B#1: See, I told you! You owe me $5!
B#2: [gives him a five spot]
Me: What just happened?
Mother: Well, Dr. Singla, we just noticed that you come by and see our son every morning, and every third day, it looks like you've grown a full beard. Either you have an odd hair pattern, or you're not doing your morning Navy shave.

Me: I don't get it, Dr. Barthel. You'd think by now, Dr. Patel would have taken me under his wing, offered to be my mentor...
DB: What, just because you're Indian?
Me: Well, yeah.
DB: No no, you're right. I'll take care of it... I'll just tell him I saw you talking to a Paki.

Dr. Pizarro: And if I was your surgical ICU attending, what would you tell me is the difference between a PTX and a tension PTX? What would you say to make your surgical attending very happy, and then you could go home and sleep with a smile knowing that your attending is satisfied with you?
Me: I could decompress a tension PTX. And I would see more tracheal deviation, and worsening breaths on the vent...
DP: It's that one is an XRay diagnosis, and one is a clinical diagnosis.
Me: I said that earlier!
DP: Yes, you did. But you said it quietly, and that doesn't count.

Don't just blog in anger, I heard you say

So... after the turmoil that was my previous decision, I have recently been informed that I was offered the position in Internal Medicine at Portsmouth in error. Having already accepted a flight surgery position, I was ineligible for a residency spot. I have mixed feelings about the mix up; on one hand, I just need to reset my expectations to a month ago, but on the other hand, I feel like I was misled in many ways. Upshot: I'm back to going to flight school this fall, where I'll get a flight suit and golden wings for my uniform while I party for 10 hours a day.

Corpsman: Sir, you look totally different without your white coat.
[I keep walking]
Corpsman:See, he doesn't even listen.
Me: Are you talking to me?
C: Yes, sir. I was just remarking that you look totally different when you're not in uniform and your white coat.
Me: Is that a compliment?
C: Well, sir, it's twenty degrees outside, and you're wearing flip flops and torn slacks. Take it for what you will.

Dr. Killian: Manish, do you think a chylothorax [fluid collection of fat in your lungs] is easily infected?
Me: I think so, sir.
DK: Valiant effort, but wrong.
Me: So it's not a setting for infection?
DK: Manish, if you had a chylothorax, I could open your chest, pee in it, and close it again, and you still wouldn't get an infection.
Me: That's... horrible, sir.
DK: But now you'll remember that.

Dr. Killian: Manish, where did you go to college?
Me: The College of William and Mary, sir.
DK: And what did you major in?
Me: Chemistry, sir.
DK: Oh no. If you had majored in history or sociology, I would give you a pass for getting that question wrong, but now I'm just disappointed.

Dr. Killian: I don't know why we pay all these nutrionists. Just pick up some homeless guy off the street, give him $40,000/year, and tell him to write in everyone's chart "Give the patient food. Lots."

Dr. Killian: Manish! Why is this patient not DNR/DNI [Do not resuscitate, do not intubate]?
Me: Well, sir, I talked to the family and they wanted us to do everything we could.
DK: How many times did you use the words "dying," "dead," or "death"?
Me: Sir?
DK: Manish, if you don't use the big boy words, they'll never sign the papers.

Turn and face the strange

It's been a tough couple of days, but I've finally made a decision. I will be staying at Portsmouth Naval Hospital to complete an Internal Medicine residency. Now all I have to do is purchase all those books that I will be spending the next 2 years immersed in, look for home to spend those years in, convince myself that somewhere nearby there is good produce, and convince someone to open a nice Indian restaurant. Breathe. Breathe. Now... hyperventilate.

me: Dr. Reed, I think I finally got this guy's cholesterol at goal!
DR: It feels pretty good, doesn't it, Manish?
me: Yeah, he's the one who told me that thumping on his chest everyday would increase the size of his thymus.
DR: Baby steps, Manish, baby steps.

Brooke: Manish, do you want to go do Team Ice Cream before your little meeting with the program director.
Me: That sounds wonderful. Any suggestions to what I should say?
B: I would avoid insulting her or her program. Try to avoid mentioning that she's hysterical because she's pregnant. And steer clear of the race card for about fifteen minutes.

Dr. Barthel: Manish, you're Indian, right?
Me: Yes, sir.
DB: Good. Because until this year, Dr. Patel basically had to speak on the behalf of all your people, and he was our only source on the craziness. Were you born here or there?
Me: Sir, I wasn't born in the motherland.
DB: Damn. You're just as useless as he is.

Vendor: Well, Dr. Singla, I just wanted to introduce myself. My name is ---, and I'm with --- Home Health care services.
Me: ---, you do know I'm just an intern.
Vendor: Yeah.
Me: And you do know that I only choose discharge planning that Marilyn suggests.
Vendor: Oh?
Me: Hey, Marilyn! Are these guys any good?
Marilyn: Dr. Singla, they're quite good.
Me: See, you should take her out to lunch instead.
Vendor: Well, sir, here's my card, and we're having breakfast in two weeks. You can bring Marilyn as your date, if you'd like.

As my patience (ha!) unravels, I begin my travels

I will be leaving Norfolk in the next hour to head to Northern Virginia and hang out there tonight. Tomorrow morning, I will catching a cheap Greyhound to NYC, where I'll be until Jan 2. On Jan 2, I will take the bus back to DC, and will be enjoying the downtown bar scene that night. I will leave the metropolitan area on Jan 3 to head back here in order to work on Jan 4. Should you want to meet up with me in any of these locations during the designated amount of time (I would love to get a cup of coffee with you, at least), please call me and I will make every effort.

For some reason, Sedated by The Ramones just will not get out of my head. For SOME reason.

Do I really know it's Christmas?

Christmas Day off. But everyone close to me is either out of town (fellow interns), working (unfortunate interns), on vacation (stupid newlyweds), or does not live nearby (the rest of you). So it's time to clean, and update my blog. For those of you who do not know, I was recently accepted into the Flight Medicine program, which means next fall I will be attending a watered down version of Flight School and ultimately will be assigned to a squadron of pilots to be their primary physician. This entails learning how to fly a jet and a helicopter, getting pilot wings on my Navy uniform, and wearing flight suits and bomber jackets. I'm excited! The funnies:

Dr. Reed: You're quite chipper this morning, Manish.
me: I'm always like this, ma'am.
DR: Oh... hmm. Are you manic?
me: Not that I know of.
DR: We should talk. -pause- Actually, we'll talk at the end of the month. There's nothing more useful than a manic intern.

Dr. Reed: So Manish, you managed to get ---- into surgery today? Well, I guess I owe you a case of beer.
me: A little incentive goes a long way, ma'am.
DR: Does this mean that if I offer you another case, you can get ---- to start eating again?
me: I respond well to motivation, ma'am.
DR: Just next time, try to not to talk about it in front of the residency director.

me: I think I have Sunday night off according to this schedule. Want to hang out and grab a drink then?
Jen: Umm... That's Christmas Eve, Manish.
me: Sorry, it's hard to keep track.
Jen: That's ok. I didn't know until about two hours ago.

me: I think she might have conversion disorder. I tried that test where you ask them to lift one leg, and feel if they're pushing down with the other leg...
Dr. Duplessis: And?
me: Well, it was negative. I can't remember the eponym.
DD: That's ok. I can't remember it either. Nice work.
me: I'm just trying to impress you, sir.
DD: Oh, you already impressed me when you told the Residency Director your theory on how much money Superman would save a hospital.

me: Tameka, why did you do that?
Tameka: what?
me: You told Jessica Lee to just walk away from me when we were talking earlier.
T: Oh, I was talking to Jessica earlier about how that's the only way to deal with you.
me: That's a horrible thing to say.
T: Manish, we don't mean it in a mean way. It's just that when we're all on call together, we start talking to you, and then four hours go by. We never get our own work done.
me: Oh. So it's a compliment.
T: Only you would take that as a compliment.

me: So, Ms. ---- came in for her first appointment with me and gave me a list of 10 problems she's having. Where would you like me to start, sir?
Dr. Winebrenner: 30 minute appointment. Did you prioritize?
me: Well, I told her which ones we'd address today and which ones we'd address next time.
DW: And how did she react?
me: Umm... she said that I wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
DW: Excuse me?
me: Well, she's a realtor, and she gave me her card. She says that she works with a lot of bachelor doctors.
DW: Manish. You cannot use your clinic to find a sugar mama.

Holy crap... everything really is bigger in Texas

Back from Texas. Incidentally, I was flying from San Antonio to St. Louis (for a connecting flight to Norfolk) and we had to have an emergency landing. The plane's interior had started to heat up, and someone from the back of the plane noticed some "haziness" in the air. To say that the stewardess lost her composure would be an understatement. She kept telling us to not panic while her voice increased in pitch. Very surreal. She taught us the brace position... hard to describe, but it's uncomfortable. We landed hard, but uneventfully, and that's the end of the
story.

Also, I'm supposed to plug Leslie Ashbrook's unbelievably wonderful hospitality while I visited Austin. Cheers to the Mexican Martini!

On to the funnies from the trip:

Staff Attending: So Manish, did you see Major Cox while you were at Camp Bullis?
me: Umm... excuse me?!
SA: Major Cox. Last time I was down there, Major Cox was everywhere.
me: Uh, well, sir, it was a community shower, but--
SA: -LAUGHING- No no, Manish. Major Cox. He's a heart surgeon.
me: Oh. No, he wasn't there, sir.

Me: So exactly what does a PhD in piano consist of?
Amy: What kind of question is that?
Me: No no, I mean, what do you have to do to get a PhD in piano?
Amy: -explains-
Me: So how is your program?
Amy: Well, the instruction is good, but it's very... and I use this word but no one ever knows what it means... pedagogic.
Me: Oh my god! Did you just underestimate me?
Leslie: Yes, I think she did, and I love her for it!

Me: so there's this intern, and he's always throwing his peers under the bus.
Scott (Canadian Medical Corps): So you and your boys should just beat the crap out of him.
Me: Nah, we're medicine interns. Our plots have to be more diabolical and require long intricate plans.
Scott: Visine in his coffee.
Me: Exactly.

Petty Officer Ortiz: EVEN THOUGH IT'S COLD, YOU WILL ALL HYDRATE. IF YOU DON'T HYDRATE, YOU'LL DEHYDRATE, AND THEN YOU WILL COLLAPSE. THEN I WILL LAUGH AT YOU BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO LAZY TO DRINK YOUR WATER. Now, what do you all have to do?
Us (90% doctors): HYDRATE!
PO Ortiz: And what will happen if you don't?
Us: WE WILL COLLAPSE!
PO Ortiz: And then what will I do?
Us: LAUGH AT US!
PO Ortiz: And why?
Us: BECAUSE WE WERE TOO LAZY TO DRINK OUR WATER!

Everything is bigger... in San Antonio

Here's where I'll be for the next 8 days: C4 Course
Eating MREs, living on the land, using baby wipes for hygeine... that's the life. Wish me luck.

Launch Pad

Everyone reading this already knows me. I know that because I am not so arrogant (well, yes I am) that I think strangers want to read about me. So no introductions are necessary. Why am I doing this? Ah.
1. This will hopefully reduce the number of times I have to tell a funny story (or, a story I think is funny). Then again, it means I'll have to double my material in person (a point made by the newly married Rick Carpenter).
2. It's hard to lose these notes, especially when I write my memoirs in five years.
3. There is an outside chance that I really am funny, in which case, you've gotten in on the ground floor.
4. This is NOT a blog about my daily thoughts, or what I had for breakfast today. To be bored by that kind of minutiae, you'll have to wait to see me in person.
5. This blog will NOT be daily updated. I will struggle to keep it updated weekly, with compelling thoughts for my target audience.
6. If this isn't working... I will destroy it, with no trace of it ever existing except on the Google server where all things live (and breed).


That is all for today. I am off to a drug rep dinner at a fusion restaurant, where I plan on having garlic encrusted crabcakes with mashed potatoes and al dente asparagus.