| Written by JR Brow,
on 07-17-2008
|
Views : 650  |
 GTMO - 5 DAYS IN CUBA - DAY TWO
NAME: JR BROW
POSTION TITLE: ENTERTAINER GS-11
DUTY STATION: MORALE, WELFARE AND RECREATION DEPT.
ORGANIZATIONAL ELEMENT: SUPPORT SERVICES
TDY PURPOSE: 4TH JULY ENTERTAINMENT
To Whom It May Concern:
Here we are on our second day in Guantanamo Bay. Patrick, Mike, Scotty and I have been assigned to perform comedy shows for the service members stationed on this tiny military base in Cuba. Four comics from four fairly disfunctional families, all stuck together for five glorious days.
Patrick has a handicap. He doesn't talk about it, nor does he expect sympathy from anyone, and he will probably be upset that I tell you this without his permission. But because he's my friend, I'm hoping he'll forgive me. He has macular degenerative disease, which causes deterioration in the central portions of his retinas. In other words, he can't see what's directly in front of him or focus on fine print. Patrick is legally blind, has lived with this handicap for over twenty years, and he has adapted well.
If you stand close to Patrick, but not directly in front of him, he can
see you quite clearly. You wouldn't know he has macular degeneration
because the guy is well rehearsed at pretending to look you right in
the eye when talking to you. He's pretty amazing, in that he doesn't
ask for assistance or special privileges at airports. Instead, he
stubbornly stands close to the baggage claim conveyor belt, eyeballing
every piece that passes until he spots his. Hats off to Patrick. He's a
damn funny comic and I can't believe he doesn't have any jokes about
his handicap. I tell him he's sitting on a gold mine but because he
can't see them he probably thinks they're just bricks.
I have a handicap, too. I don't generally share this with people
because it is such a rare disability, and isn't outwardly obvious. I
can't smell. Oh, I probably DO smell on occasion, but wouldn't know it
unless you told me. I lost it due to a massive head injury back in high
school.
It's been twenty plus years since I flew through a windshield and
landed head first onto a curb after the car I was in swerved into a
telephone pole. When I tell that part of the story people usually
cringe, but when they find out consequently that I can't smell, they
invariably ask, "How do you taste food?" I always say, "Think back to
those times your mom cooked that one dish you most hated (like liver
and onions), and how you breathed through your mouth while you chewed
it just so you could swallow it." The best label I can give to my
condition is that I'm legally bland.
We constantly kid each other about our respective disabilities.
During lunch today, it gets a little out of hand.
Patrick: Man, did you guys see that one girl?
Me: Yes, Patrick. And you didn't, right?
Scotty K and Mike say nothing. They want no part of this.
Patrick: I'm talking about the hot one in uniform that hugged me after the show. Did you notice how good she smelled?
Me: Ha-ha-ha. Well little did you know, you were hugging a dude!
Patrick: Fuck you, bro. At least my nose works!
He takes a bite out of his Taco Bell crunchy taco.
Patrick: (Cont'd) Mm-mm...and this taco tastes so goo-oo-d!
Me: Hey Patrick, I'm flipping you off right now, and you don't even know it!
Patrick: I'm farting right now and you don't even know it!
Mike & Scott: Yeah, but WE do!
They quickly get up and leave us two poor handicapped souls to fend for
ourselves. Patrick and I walk each other to the van and head back to
the condo to get ready for tonight's big show.
Our second show is a hit! Well, in baseball terms it's more like a
ground rule double with two runners scoring. We walk into the Wind
Jammer Recreational Facility thirty minutes before show time, and seats
are filling up fast. This place can hold up to 300 people and it looks
like it will do just that tonight. The show is open to all service
members, regardless of rank or branch. To put it mildly, we are wading
through a sea of young, angry grunts, most of them too young to buy
alcohol. That's not to say they can't get their hands on a bottle, just
that they're not supposed to.
At show's start the place is full, noisy, and almost out of control.
Patrick masterfully reels the unruly and talkative crowd in and has an
awesome set. DeGuire sets the stage for the rest of us, and he is on
base with a single.
Next up to bat is Mike Speenberg. The crowd has a very short attention
span so it's punch line city for Mike. It's "bing-bang-boom," as they
say. And after a couple of punch lines Speen's got the crowd right
where he wants them. Bam! He hits a double, and DeGuire scores one run
for the comics.
Speen is on second base and now it's up to the third comic to bring him
around. There's a last minute change up in the batting order. Usually
batting clean up, Scotty K is now going up third. He has a mega strong
opening joke followed by a powerful, surefire closing joke, and the
crowd is on fire by the time he closes. He hits a triple against the
wall and is on third base, waiting for me to bring him in.
I am now in the same position Scotty was at our first show last night.
I'm batting clean up. I'm the closer. I have to follow the giant
musical number! Not to worry, I tell myself. I've been here before. For
thirty five minutes I prance around the stage like a shiny object just
to keep the young audience's attention.
The other three guys watch me work my ass off for a crowd that (we
gather) would much rather be at home downloading YouTube clips and
talking to each other on MySpace than to have to watch four old people
tell jokes! Amazingly, I knock it out of the park with my closing joke
and so our job is done. I'm not happy with my show, though. Patrick
asks me why I seem so disappointed and I say, "Because I stunk up
there!" He said, "How would you know?"
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