I phoned Teri (ex-roomate) one night, and we talked. We were good friends after she married Phil and moved out, and Phil was still my best friend. It was so nice to have them living a few hundred feet away, although I had never been to their apartment. After talking for a while, Teri said,"Oh hell, Mike, why are we on the phone? Come on over!" I ran over in my pajamas, carrying a pillow, and Teri showed me around the apartment while Phil was asleep. I still remember that very fondly (after I was married, my wife forced me to break contact with Phil and Teri).
A cop stopped me while I was running back to my trailer later that night, asking me if I'd stolen something. Those Nebraska cops were always so paranoid about guys running around barefoot in their pajamas and carrying pillows at midnight. He searched my pillow and let me go.
The last few days at work were bittersweet. We had a stereo system someone had donated for our vaulted security area, and we'd bring in cassette tapes (ask you mother what they are) of our favorite music to keep the day going. I brought in my Japanese language tapes to play. Fitz and I were amazed at the similarities of Japanese phrases with English phrases. One phrase, which I never learned the English translation to, sounded like,"More coffee in your anus?" Anyone out there know what that means?
Kim Davis was a good friend. We were in the honor guard together for two years and talked often, visited, rarely. We met at the bus stop in 1985 when I didn't feel like walking the 1.2 miles to work. I wish I'd appreciated her friendship more. She was going to Germany and I, Japan. I'd made many friends and in a day they were gone forever. More than a few people told me work wouldn't be the same without me...I guess
they'd miss the dummies. I walked