Military bases are like any large city.  Except without the litter, good architecture, homeless people, surliness and crime.  Oh, and everybody wears the same few outfits everyday.  Hannah enjoyed her time on a base when she came with me on a training trip two years ago.  All of the young sailors called her "Ma'am" and held the door for her, everything she needed was within walking distance, they always have free stuff going on like cookouts and movies. 

I like it too, for those reasons and a few others.  I like the hustle and bustle.  Sure you get that in a normal city but not like you do on a military base.  When I go for a walk around here I get to see helicopters (CH-60 Seahawks) flying low over the buildings with people hanging their legs out the doors.  Planes (F-18 Hornets, E2-C Hawkeyes) are always taking off and landing and buzzing around overhead.  People are going somewhere and have something to do all the time; you don't see a lot of shiftlessness.  You feel like you're in the middle of something big and important, which is a nice feeling.

It's not all pleasant though.  Having spent some time around active duty sailors now I can confirm the validity of the phrase "Swears like a Sailor".  There is a high priority on making the most of one's leave which seems to involve getting really liquored up.  I don't understand that because if I had limited time off I would want to be coherent through all of it.  It's probably not all that different than what you would find among civilians of the same demographic though; young, male, no post-senior high education. 

The rules can get to be a little much too.  I've been told that I can't wear my backpack like a backpack was designed to be worn because it is not all black.  It has some grey on it.  I'm supposed to carry it in my left hand.  Well, I'm going to wear it anyway so I don't get a back problem from having to carry 15lbs of documents along lopsided, while I walk all over tarnation getting from building to building.  I'm not supposed to wear my shoes with my working uniform, but my boots instead.  Well, my boots are a lot heavier, harder to pack and were eaten by my dog and I don't want to spring for replacements. 

I also am not fond of the yelling.  Me yelling or somebody yelling at me, doesn't matter, I don't like it.  We have PT every morning and we're supposed to yell a lot during that.  When the instructor yells, "Are you ready?" we're all supposed to yell back, "Always ready!"  And if it's not loud enough he yells, "I can't hear you!" which is a lie, because he can, he just wants us to yell.  Normally I just use my inside voice but if we start to sound unenthusiastic we get to do more exercises so when I detect a fall-off in the volume I start to yell too.  Maybe there won't be as much yelling when we get into our Army training.  Right.