Old Friends

Recently, I've been contacted by a couple of old friends that I served in the Air Force with. One was my best friend Paul, who I lost contact with back in 2006. I knew he'd moved to the Philippines, and figured that he'd eventually drop me a line since we'd gone a few years between contacts before.

So yeah, he'd lost my email address, went searching for "Rocket" on the internet. Stumbled across Rocket Jones and thought that it looked crazy enough to be me. Once he saw my picture holding our granddaughter, well, mission accomplished.

Paul's married to a local girl and spends his time building a house. He comes back to the US occasionally to visit his kids and grandkids, and to do jury duty.

Long time readers may remember Paul as the guy I stayed with when he lived in Las Vegas, and we held a reunion for a bunch of Security Police there. After the reunion, I stayed awhile longer and we repo'd cars for a few days for fun. He's also one of the former owners of the Hobbit House, a bar staffed entirely by midgets on the resort island of Boracay.

The other old friend was a guy I served with in Germany. Turns out that he's written a semi-fictional account of the Flugtag Airshow Disaster that happened in 1988, while we were stationed at Ramstein AB. In fact, that's how he found me, he sent an email after finding the Rocket Jones archives about that horrible day.

Here's a link to the book, Flugtag 88. You should buy it, and not just because both my wife and I are in it. In fact, you should buy copies of all his books, so he'll be overwhelmed with the power of a Rocket Jones endorsement. Uh... yeah.

Stop laughing.