Me

Christopher K. Derrick

1992, The Painted Desert:

1992, Key West Florida:

1994, Key West Florida:

1999, Big Basin, California:

I've lived in a number of different places. To inventory, in alphabetical order

California, USA
Colorado, USA
Delaware, USA
Florida, USA
Illinois, USA
Ohio, USA
Paris, France
Pennsylvania, USA
Rheinland-Westfalen, FRG
Texas, USA
Utah, USA

(Paris is sort of like DC; i.e. it is both a city and a region designator. That's why it is the only city listed.)

I was born 27 October 1970. Nothing of great interest occurred for the next 20 years or so, which brings us to the beginning of the 90's. That was about the time that I entered the Air Force. I joined it mainly because they let me enlist for four years and get a linguist job guaranteed, though I also did security force stuff for a while, while the Marine Corps wanted me to sign for five. The Marines had been my first choice because they have nicer uniforms, especially now that the Air Force has introduced the stupid new style dress blues that look like an airline pilot's uniform. I probably wouldn't even have considered the Air Force if they'd had that uniform in 1990. I'm very image conscious, and I don't think the new uniform has at all a warrior image.

I was assigned to four duty stations while I was in, all of which have some interesting stroies associated: Lackland AFB for basic training, the Presidio of Monterey for tech school, Goodfellow AFB for tech school, and Key West NAS for the rest of my time.

The military was OK for a while, though I got stuck with several silly roommates. No names are given to prevent lawsuits and to protect the stupid.

The guy who decided to make my life Hell after I told him to lock the door of my car or I'd kick his ass. One should remember, that this was only a few months after the bombing of my car, which I suspect occurred partly due to some dimwit leaving the rear door of my car unlocked. (answers to the obvious questions about bombing: No I don't have photos, yes I was in the car, yes, the perpertrator was apprehended, no, the anarchist cookbooks bomb suggestions aren't terribly effective, yes, the car was still mobile as was your author, though we both required some attention.) He attempted to get me in trouble any way possible after that. He said that I didn't take showers, he said I was psychotic, he said I didn't wear undershirts with my uniform, and naturally turned in all these false allegations to our sergeant. In return, I turned him in for playing raquetball while on a PT waiver (this was true, unlike his allegations) and scratched the shit out of his CDs. Eventually, the cadre caught on to the problems and we both we assigned new room-dogs. At this point, I asked him why, and was told "When I first moved in and you gave me a ride, you told me that if I didn't lock the door you'd beat my ass, and that's worse than if you actually did" I told him he was an idiot, and never spoke with him again.
The guy who was never home, and who sometimes borrowed my T-shirts without asking. The day before I was reassigned, he decided he didn't like the Air Force's light fixture, so he changed it for a paper lantern thing. With the power live at the time. I came home, to see him standing on a chair with various tools, the light on and hanging out of the junction box from wires, and the original, rather ugly fixture in the trash. I told him I'd be back in a few hours, and disavowed all knowledge the next day when I had to get checked out.
The guy who was terminally stupid and smelled bad. He lasted a week. I won't go into the story of how I got rid of him. He showed up at about eleven at night, and I almost dropped my Martini (yes, I already drank those things in '91, you trendy people) because I knew he was gonna suck as soon as I opened the door.
You can get decent people as well. I had a lot of fun with the sergeant from New York City, and also the guitar playing freak. Even if he did get me in trouble once because he pretty much refused to clean up his side of the room, and Mickey's bottles with mold growing in them just doesn't look good to inspectors...

I joined out of a lack of anything better to do, and probably would have stayed on for the same reason were it not for the coffee incident. I was ready to re-enlist about a month before the time of an IG inspection, and Chief Hisey decided that it would be a good time to enforce the regulation about keeping all liquids at least six feet from electronic equipment. Well, our ops floor looked like a second-rate James Bond control room, as in there was no point in the room that was more than six feet from some kind of electronic gear. This sort of ruled out drinking coffee. Now, I could have handled this for the week that the IG actually was there, but for a month? I threatened, anonymously but publically (an anonymous comment that somehow got published in the minutes of the Commander's call, and which pretty much everyone knew was from me) not to re-enlist if I got told not to drink coffee again. Well, I keep my word. Did get a cool picture of me and a MiG out of it, and I've finally gotten around to putting it up.
Chris lounges near MiG-21
Perhaps you are wondering about what a MiG-21 is doing on Key West NAS... The answer is that early in 1994, a Cuban gentleman decided that he wished to travel to Florida in a speedier manner than the customary inner tubes. After examining the MiG, I think I would have chosen the inner tubes. It'd have been safer than this aircraft. Panels were attached with pop rivets, switches in the cockpit were hardwired, missing, attached with alligator clips, etc., and it leaked hydraulic fluid. On the other hand, six minutes travel time is a lot better than six days if you don't have a good book, and who knows if Fidel even allows good books in Cuba? The Communist Manifesto gets rather boring after the second reading, and Mao's Little Red Book is such a collection of drivel... Perhaps the MiG doesn't look so bad after all...
Fidel's Flying Junkyard
Lastly, I have some photos of my comrades in Key West:

I really should enlarge this one and then scan it. From left to right, it appears to be (Back row) SrA Eric Denison, A1C Denver Ballew, SSgt Jim Law, SrA Val Thies, SrA Weena Maddox, (Front Row) SrA C.K. Derrick, SrA G.E.H. Field, 2Lt ?, SrA Lou Jenkins, SrA Moca Woodford, MSgt Jimmy "Jefe" Ortiz, and some guy from Able Flight whose name I don't recall.

SrA G.E.H. Field shows off his security badge

LT John Henry and me on the beach near the SCIF.

James "Jefe" Ortiz and our 202 chief resting on the beach. The 202, who's name I can't recall, injured himself playing basketball.

Since then, I've been to Chicago, then France, then back to Chicago. Interesting events those places will be described in the Adventures section. My BA is from University of Illinois/Chicago, where I also worked in the AISS department, Client Server Develpoment Group, writing software manuals and requirements. I studied French, but I actually feel more confident in German. I also know Spanish from my time with the Air Intelligence Agency, but it isn't really my favorite language.

I'did a year of graduate school at the Monterey Institute of International Studies. I studied International Policy, and also German. I'm currently waiting on a security clearance so that I can start my job with the Foreign Service

Were you one of my loser roommates? Send death threats to CLDerrick@usa.net
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I demonstrate the poor man's rain hat.

*C.K. Derrick with cows photograph copyright 1997 Maike Overlack. C.K. Derrick with bag on head image copyright 1997 Martina Stettler. All rights reserved. Images may not be reproduced in any form without prior permission of the creators.