Photo time

There you go, the official photo of me.

Bad decisions

I know there are times that everybody makes bad decisions, but then sometimes people just decide like a week in advance to make a bad decision.

We've all been there before. Standing around talking to our friends when it hits like a slap in the face. You look at your friends and say, "Next Friday, I'm going to make a decision I'll probably regret. There, it's settled."

I'm not saying I've been making bad decisions lately, it just came up in conversation. Talking about past decisions and some that I should have run 100 miles the opposite direction, but didn't. Good news is, I'm doing okay, but the bad news is some of those decisions are still around.

One decision in particular was drinking before a night at the club when I was still in Duluth. It was early in my illustrious two semesters at the University of MN, Duluth. I said it was time to get drunk... Great plans always start this way when you're 19. That's a promise.

Well, it just so happened I was the only person who knew where we were going. Good thing my sense of direction is on point when I've been drinking. We end up at the club, amazingly enough.

Somehow I stumbled past the door guy who put on my underage bracelet. I can't remember if he was laughing at me or not. Not important. I'm doing good though, paying my entrance fee, which some call a cover charge. I think it is an entrance fee to act like a fool. Whatever...

I can remember the black lights highlighting how I always dump my laundry detergent on top of my clothes instead of putting it in before the clothes. That's awesome. There's nothing like a big white glow in the dark stain on your jeans that happens to be the same place as specific human anatomy. (I still don't put the detergent in before my clothes and fell victim to the same embarrassment recently.)

As soon as I got past the doors into the actual dance floor part of the club my world fell apart. I lost track of all time, motor skills (which I blame on the lights) and the ability to just exist amongst the crowd.

I figure the best place to hide is the bathroom. I barely make it in there, knowing I'm being watched by everybody who has some authority to escort the too drunk to function people out. I'm in the bathroom for what seems to be ages. This was probably only a mere 30 seconds, but who's counting. I couldn't have counted to 10 at this point. I come out of the bathroom, right to the guy who says it is time to leave.

I'm surprisingly okay with this. No argument or anything. I'm actually happy I get to leave. Saves me from falling all over the place.

First, I tell them to page my cousin, he's in there. Hopefully, he will come outside just to make sure nothing happens. As you can guess the classic excuse comes out of his mouth the next day, "I didn't hear them call my name over the loudspeakers when they stopped the music and clearly stated I was needed outside." A big thanks goes out to him...

So, here I am, 19, crumpled and drunken on the sidewalk. I asked numerous times to page said cousin. Nothing. I pass out, or black out. Take your pick.

The next thing I remember is being picked up by friends from the sidewalk, and one of them is crying. She's balling her eyes out, and I'm saying, "Why are you crying? Seems silly you'd cry because I got kicked out."

She says to look at my hands, and as I look down I see something fall from my face. Red, thick consistency similar to blood, weird. I see my hands and they're covered in blood. My first instinct is to think it belongs to somebody else. WRONG!

Congrats, Cody, you got your ass whipped and you don't even remember it. Classy.

Not a whole lot of remembering after that. I guess I was hilarious at the hospital. My friends were nice enough to take me. (Still no sign of immediate family.) One of the things I do remember was the doctor "testing" my threshold for pain. My nose was broken and my teeth hurt like hell, but that didn't stop him from pushing and pulling on both.

By the way, even through all of this I am told I gave them all my information including driver's license number without ever taking my wallet out of my back pocket. Don't ask. I was too drunk to get dressed by myself. Thanks to a friend, he got me dressed and back to my room. (Found said family member, asleep in bed.)

I woke up the next morning, in time to go to my 9:15 class. Wouldn't you know it, somebody saw what happened. I wore a hat, and kept my head down to hide the mess I called a face.

I guess, some large Native American fellow took offense to something I must have said. He used the cast for his broken hand to readjust my nose, teeth and some of my jaw structure. Then he proceeded to rummage through my pockets, taking the last dollar I had on me. Somehow this story gets better and better.

At least I know that's why it looks like somebody used a cheese grater on my face.

That's my story of the bad decisions. I decided I was going to get drunk, and indeed I did. Luckily, I didn't get hurt beyond repair. I was doing some Marine Corps Martial Arts Program training, got popped in the nose and it is straight again.

I guess what I'm getting at in all of this is, take heed when making decisions in haste. It can get messy. Oh, and make sure you're with friends who will a) bail you out b) come find you or c) take you to hospital and dress you because you can't do it yourself.

Sounds of the Marine Corps

There's a glorious sound, and it is live-fire machine gun ranges. I heard them for the first time since being back to Lejeune tonight, and it was wonderful.

Hearing the difference between a 240G or M2 .50 caliber is like punk rock and blues. 240G's are fast and thrashing while the .50 cal is more like a slow pounding blues song, driving its pain home.

The other glorious sound around here is helicopters in flight. I don't get to hear them enough, but when I do it is a sound that sticks with you. The best part of it is to be able to not even see them, but still know what kind it is. I learned the difference in Iraq, when they would be taking off at night, and you couldn't see them, but could you could tell if there were two rotors or if it was an attack helicopter. Outstanding!

Hurrican time... job update...

Last night I had the pleasure of hanging out in my barracks room because of Tropical Storm Hanna. It was really more of a big rain. There was not a lot of damage done to the base or anything like that, so that is good. I guess we're lucky. We didn't get pounded by the storm, but maybe Ike will hit us harder. Keep an eye on the weather...

I've got news about a new place of duty! I should be going to Virginia, to a little base called Ft. Story. I'm pretty darn excited about it. I'll be doing public affairs for a new unit called Marine Corps Training Advisory Group.

That's why I had to write my bio. I've got to give them something to bring to the commanding officer to say, this guy might be able to help. Not to mention, I have to have a picture of me in service "C" uniform for them to tell if I have appropriate military appearance. I'll post that picture as soon as I get it taken. Should be pretty exciting.

Keep your fingers crossed. I'm hoping they like what they hear and see.

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Now playing: Millencolin - Mooseman's Jukebox
via FoxyTunes

New Truck

For those of you who know, and those who don't, here's a picture of my new-to-me, a.k.a. used, truck.

Marine Corps Bio

This is kind of strange, because I didn't realize how much (or how little) I've actually done until I had to write a bio. After going through and touting all my accomplishments, this is what I came up with.

This is very light reading. I'm not promising you anything. In fact, if you printed this on a sheet of paper, it probably wouldn't be fit for starting a fire.

THE BIO:

Sergeant Cody Yard enlisted in the Marine Corps from Hartland, Minn., Oct. 15, 2002. He attended boot camp in San Diego, graduated MCT and went directly to the Basic Public Affairs – Writers Course at the Defense Information School, Ft. Meade, Md.

Private First Class Yard reported to Camp Lejeune, N.C., July 1, 2003 as a Combat Correspondent for Headquarters and Support Battalion, Marine Corps Base. There he wrote stories and took photos, writing for external release, but also for the base’s newspaper, The Globe.

On Feb. 1, 2004, Lance Cpl. Yard began to work as the Military Editor for The Globe. As the Military Editor, he was in charge of filling the Mainside and A section of the newspapers. He was also charged with reading all sections of the newspaper to ensure proper AP Stylebook usage and format were consistent throughout the paper.

While on the editorial staff, Yard won a Public Affairs Merit Award for Best Metro Format Newspaper in the Marine Corps.

In December 2004, Cpl. Yard volunteered for a combat tour to Iraq with 2d Marine Logistics Group. He was sent TAD and deployed in February 2005. Not only did Yard turn out more print stories than his counterparts, he also learned broadcast journalism and began shooting video. Some of Yard’s first work was aired on Fox News, while simultaneously broadcasting a live interview with firefighters from Camp Taqaddum, Iraq, utilizing the DVIDs satellite system. He also filmed footage for an instructional video on setting up a Field Food Service System.

Yard joined convoys, arranged air transportation and billeting arrangements for himself in order to produce his stories and travel to other bases in the Al Anbar province.

For his service and professional achievements while serving in Iraq, Yard was awarded a Navy and Marine Corps Achievement medal, and was also recommended for meritorious promotion to sergeant.

After returning from deployment September 2005, Yard was sent back to the Base Public Affairs office where he worked as the Media Chief. He also transitioned back to Military Editor and Press Chief for a team of four Marines.

Sergeant Yard’s personal awards include two Navy and Marine Corps Achievement medals. He is married to the former Bernadette Shasky, of Champlin, Minn.

I told you I couldn't promise you would enjoy that.