BAD NAVY, BAD!

I’m going to send Capt. Maclay a blistering email.  The principal reason for our swinging into northern Florida was to visit NAS JAX and try to locate the old base hospital.   ???? you say?  Well, because that’s where I was born.  Back in the day, Mom was a Wave stationed there, and Dad, after a long tour in the island-hopping campaign in the Pacific as a Marine, ended his service there as well.  They both stayed in long enough to enjoy the benefits of free health care for birthing me.  So, I’m a Navy brat!  They left Florida when I was 2 months old, and that’s the extent of my contact with the state and the South except for a month or two doing FTC work in Ocala back in the 70’s.

We pulled in at the main gate, told the guard we wanted to tour the base, and he directed us to the adjacent building whre all base passes were handed out.  He said, and all the signs clearly confirmed, that all we needed was a driver’s license, vehicle registration, and proof of insurance.  Done, done, and done.  We occupied two parking slots on the bias, and went inside to . . . a line.  OK, that’s the military I remember anyway.  But, we had arrived just after noon.  Everyone had bailed for lunch except for one window.  We stood, and stood, and stood, then crawled, then stood, well, you get the picture.  Nearly an hour later we were called to the window, pushed our docs under the glass, and were asked:  “Do you have a base sponsor?”  Uh, no, what’s that?  It turns out JAX is a “closed base,” and no one gets on without an invitation.  Why didn’t the guard say that an hour ago?  Why didn’t ANY sign indicate that BEFORE we waited an hour?  “Sorry, that’s the rule.”  Well, %&#$@!!(^&!

Watch out, Maclay.