Good-bye USAFA, Hello Air Force − 31 May, 1995
Today was the day I'd been waiting a long time for: graduating from USAFA was four long years (five if you count that year at NMMI) in the making. Jesus. I've been here four years. During that time, it seemed like the end would never come. Now, I don't know where the time went -- it seems to have gone by in a flash.
Not that I'm getting emotional -- hell no. I'm ready to get the fuck out of here. As the saying goes: "USAFA is a great place to be from, not at."
It was strange getting up and ready this morning, knowing it would be my last day here. Everyone (all the graduating seniors, at least) seemed focused on their own business, with a few jokes getting thrown around here and there. Everyone was smiling, though. Surprisingly, I didn't think much about whether I'd see any of my friends and classmates after today. This early in the day, I doubt anyone was.
Almost everyone skipped breakfast. We were all more inclined to spend extra time getting ready for the first order of business in the morning: commissioning. Every squadron does their own thing for commissioning ceremonies. My squadron held our commissioning at the nearby Loral Command and Control office building. Very nice. Of course, a government contractor like Loral is going to put on a nice spread... you know, grease the skids with potential future customers. They had a great breakfast table set out with fruit, pastries, and drinks. None of us touched it (nervous stomachs), though our families enjoyed it. The conference room where we held the commissioning was nice: it had a raised dais where we'd stand for the ceremony, and plenty of seats for all the family and friends.
When my turn came up to take the oath, I was nervous as hell. I had asked my uncle, a retired Air Force Lieutenant Colonel, to swear me in; he was the epitome of calm. I hardly remember standing up there and I don't remember saying the oath -- I could have been singing "Mary Had a Little Lamb" for all I know. After the swearing in was done, we had to sign the papers to make it all official. My hand was shaking so bad, my signature wasn't recognizable as anything more than random scratchings from a chicken hopped up on speed.
Mingling around afterwards, I stepped outside with my family for some pictures. My girlfriend (still a cadet) was there, too. When we stepped outside, she's the one that gave me my first salute as an Air Force officer. I'm not convinced it was out of respect or anything... I think she just wanted the silver dollar. Though, I had another silver dollar for the first salute I received from an enlisted airman. And damned if it wasn't the guard posted at the USAFA entrance gate as I drove back to get ready for the graduation ceremony. Now that has to be a fought-over posting on commissioning day. I don't know if anyone else ponied-up a silver dollar to that airman, but I stopped and handed mine over to her. She looked to be in rather high spirits, so I imagine she was accumulating a bit of a collection.
Back at the dorms, everyone was changing again -- different uniform for graduation (for commissioning we wore mess dress and for graduation we wore parade uniform). We didn't have the time we otherwise would have: we had to get to the stadium extra early to go through security screening. Why? President Clinton was the guest speaker. Hey, not everyone gets to go through a metal detector and get a pat-down at their own graduation. Once on the other side of the security perimeter, we milled about and talked a bit, but everyone was generally more quiet than usual. I'm not sure if it was nervousness or disbelief that we'd actually be getting the hell out of there.
Soon enough, we formed up and marched onto the field to take our seats. Then it was all the usual ceremony to sit through: introductions, national anthem, various speeches... I don't remember a single thing President Clinton said during his address. Frankly, I didn't care. I wanted to get out. And sooner rather than later; all those dipsticks up there yip-yapping were starting to piss me off.
Finally, it was time. One-by-one, names were called and we went up to accept our diplomas and shake the President's hand. Two items of note here: one, our diplomas weren't the cool rolled parchments you would expect. No, the Air Force gave us our diplomas on big fucking wooden plaques. In big, ugly, blue boxes. Made for great graduation pictures, holding that monstrosity. And two, I have to give the President credit; he stayed up there the entire time and shook the hand of every single cadet. Usually, the "hand-shaker" position is rotated through the various guests of honor so they can have a bit of a break. Kudos to Uncle Bill. However, shaking his hand and saying "Thank you, Mr. President" in response to his "Congratulations" barely registered. It just didn't seem like that big of deal. In my mind, he was just another obstacle I had to get past before I could get the fuck out of there.
After leaving the stage, small clusters of us gathered briefly to high-five and hug our congratulations and joy in our impending departure. Now that was awesome. I finally allowed the feeling to settle in: I am done with this place.
When all of us had received our diplomas, the band played the Air Force song until the Thunderbirds flew overhead -- at which point we all chucked our hats into the air. FREEEDOMMMMMMMM!!! A tradition at USAFA is to allow all the small children in the stands to run down after the hat toss and grab a hat to keep. It's understood by cadets that when you throw your hat, it's gone. Oh, there are some assholes that want to keep their hat, so they don't throw it. A smaller tradition (if there is such a thing) is for the cadets to put some money in their hats -- sort of little bonus for the kid that gets your hat (I put $40 in mine).
Some picture-taking ensued afterward, but few of us hung around very long; we wanted to get back to the dorms, check out, grab our stuff, and leave. For good.
And that is exactly what I did. Although I could not wait to get the hell out of there, I did (and still do) appreciate everything I got from USAFA. After being there for four years and enduring all the crap that came with the opportunities, well, I think we were all ready to get on with our lives and get out from under the falcon that had been shitting on us all this time.
Then I experienced the best part about graduating from USAFA: seeing it in my rearview mirror as I left.
Not that I'm getting emotional -- hell no. I'm ready to get the fuck out of here. As the saying goes: "USAFA is a great place to be from, not at."
It was strange getting up and ready this morning, knowing it would be my last day here. Everyone (all the graduating seniors, at least) seemed focused on their own business, with a few jokes getting thrown around here and there. Everyone was smiling, though. Surprisingly, I didn't think much about whether I'd see any of my friends and classmates after today. This early in the day, I doubt anyone was.
Almost everyone skipped breakfast. We were all more inclined to spend extra time getting ready for the first order of business in the morning: commissioning. Every squadron does their own thing for commissioning ceremonies. My squadron held our commissioning at the nearby Loral Command and Control office building. Very nice. Of course, a government contractor like Loral is going to put on a nice spread... you know, grease the skids with potential future customers. They had a great breakfast table set out with fruit, pastries, and drinks. None of us touched it (nervous stomachs), though our families enjoyed it. The conference room where we held the commissioning was nice: it had a raised dais where we'd stand for the ceremony, and plenty of seats for all the family and friends.
When my turn came up to take the oath, I was nervous as hell. I had asked my uncle, a retired Air Force Lieutenant Colonel, to swear me in; he was the epitome of calm. I hardly remember standing up there and I don't remember saying the oath -- I could have been singing "Mary Had a Little Lamb" for all I know. After the swearing in was done, we had to sign the papers to make it all official. My hand was shaking so bad, my signature wasn't recognizable as anything more than random scratchings from a chicken hopped up on speed.
Mingling around afterwards, I stepped outside with my family for some pictures. My girlfriend (still a cadet) was there, too. When we stepped outside, she's the one that gave me my first salute as an Air Force officer. I'm not convinced it was out of respect or anything... I think she just wanted the silver dollar. Though, I had another silver dollar for the first salute I received from an enlisted airman. And damned if it wasn't the guard posted at the USAFA entrance gate as I drove back to get ready for the graduation ceremony. Now that has to be a fought-over posting on commissioning day. I don't know if anyone else ponied-up a silver dollar to that airman, but I stopped and handed mine over to her. She looked to be in rather high spirits, so I imagine she was accumulating a bit of a collection.
Back at the dorms, everyone was changing again -- different uniform for graduation (for commissioning we wore mess dress and for graduation we wore parade uniform). We didn't have the time we otherwise would have: we had to get to the stadium extra early to go through security screening. Why? President Clinton was the guest speaker. Hey, not everyone gets to go through a metal detector and get a pat-down at their own graduation. Once on the other side of the security perimeter, we milled about and talked a bit, but everyone was generally more quiet than usual. I'm not sure if it was nervousness or disbelief that we'd actually be getting the hell out of there.
Soon enough, we formed up and marched onto the field to take our seats. Then it was all the usual ceremony to sit through: introductions, national anthem, various speeches... I don't remember a single thing President Clinton said during his address. Frankly, I didn't care. I wanted to get out. And sooner rather than later; all those dipsticks up there yip-yapping were starting to piss me off.
Finally, it was time. One-by-one, names were called and we went up to accept our diplomas and shake the President's hand. Two items of note here: one, our diplomas weren't the cool rolled parchments you would expect. No, the Air Force gave us our diplomas on big fucking wooden plaques. In big, ugly, blue boxes. Made for great graduation pictures, holding that monstrosity. And two, I have to give the President credit; he stayed up there the entire time and shook the hand of every single cadet. Usually, the "hand-shaker" position is rotated through the various guests of honor so they can have a bit of a break. Kudos to Uncle Bill. However, shaking his hand and saying "Thank you, Mr. President" in response to his "Congratulations" barely registered. It just didn't seem like that big of deal. In my mind, he was just another obstacle I had to get past before I could get the fuck out of there.
After leaving the stage, small clusters of us gathered briefly to high-five and hug our congratulations and joy in our impending departure. Now that was awesome. I finally allowed the feeling to settle in: I am done with this place.
When all of us had received our diplomas, the band played the Air Force song until the Thunderbirds flew overhead -- at which point we all chucked our hats into the air. FREEEDOMMMMMMMM!!! A tradition at USAFA is to allow all the small children in the stands to run down after the hat toss and grab a hat to keep. It's understood by cadets that when you throw your hat, it's gone. Oh, there are some assholes that want to keep their hat, so they don't throw it. A smaller tradition (if there is such a thing) is for the cadets to put some money in their hats -- sort of little bonus for the kid that gets your hat (I put $40 in mine).
Some picture-taking ensued afterward, but few of us hung around very long; we wanted to get back to the dorms, check out, grab our stuff, and leave. For good.
And that is exactly what I did. Although I could not wait to get the hell out of there, I did (and still do) appreciate everything I got from USAFA. After being there for four years and enduring all the crap that came with the opportunities, well, I think we were all ready to get on with our lives and get out from under the falcon that had been shitting on us all this time.
Then I experienced the best part about graduating from USAFA: seeing it in my rearview mirror as I left.
class crest
senior mug
commissioning
pinning on butter bars
family at commissioning
ready for graduation
graduation
uncle bill and eddie
graduation hat toss
