“All these helicopters downtown either mean a) unanticipated tragedy, b) president’s in town, or c) they’re finally giving me my parade” - Costolo via Friendfeed/Twitter
I live near the Yakima Training Center (which we call the Firing Center), a huge sagebrush wasteland in central Washington. While maneuvers are going on we can hear the boom—boom of artillery, which is spooky enough. Last year while the Japanese army was doing training here the noise actually rattled the coffee cup on my desk. All day.
But that’s not what I meant to talk about. The quote above reminds me of the other problem of being next to the Firing Center; the helicopters. Not the nice, news-type helicopters either. I’m talking the huge, twin roter Chinook.
They are LOUD and they seem to fly over my house at least a couple times of week, usually when I’m right in the middle of a really neat dream at, say, 3:00 in the morning. Like last night. Now I’m never gonna find out the Stargate program fares under my command. Damn.
When they do fly over the house during the day, they frighten my dogs. I think they perceive the chopper as a huge bird that is going to turn the tables and chase THEM. Or it could just be the noise. Whatever it is, the poor dogs cower down on the grass and watch it very c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y.