Elmo
RETIRED MOD
- Joined
- Jan 31, 2009
- Messages
- 3,010
- Reaction score
- 0
"Ahem, ahem what is this supposed to mean"
Just practicing my triple endendres.
...and my thanks for such?
There you go, your belle fille pressed the thanks button
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"Ahem, ahem what is this supposed to mean"
Just practicing my triple endendres.
...and my thanks for such?
"...Okay pops me out, but do notice the thanks shower here...
Here's something to bring the guys' back"
Shower duly noted. Feels gratuitous. Take em' back as they're undeserved by virtue of open solicitation.
Guys are long gone.
Me too as it's well past beddie bye...
G'night.
I thanked you and then noticed the 'Pakistan sucks' sign that as* holds up.
No Thanks for YOU!
We should have been about fifteen minutes into our sojourn when, through a break in the clouds, I saw a red light on the horizon, then another. In fact, the two lights were identical, on either side of the windshield. The GIBS theorized that it was an airliner approaching head-on. I agreed with him simply for the sake of politeness, for I was too awe-struck to argue on the basics of aircraft lighting on a parched throat. Since both lights seemed stationary, we immediately skewed our eye-balls off-center to prevent auto-kinesis getting the better of us. The lights started to become bigger and, at the rate they were closing in, we thought they were fighters, but from where, my GIBS couldn’t conjure up a guess. Guess work soon transformed to reality when we saw two F-14s zip past us on either side and, through a sweeping arc, settled on our wing tips. They stayed with us as if expecting us to toss our ID cards over to them. I grabbed the mic button and announced on “Guard” that we meant no harm and were on a “routine training mission”. The F-14s didn’t seem to budge, as if skeptical about the last part of my message. Since we did not get any radio response from the F-14s, I concluded that the hiss, crackle and burp that we had last heard from Masroor were actually the death throes of our radio. So here we were, in deep sea, with two hostiles on our wings and no means to calm them down. The F-14s took their time to do a “body search” on us with their FLIR, LLTV, X-rays and what have you. Finally, they let go of us, as if convinced that we really had missed their NOTAM advising “all aircraft to identify themselves before entering a 100 miles ID Zone around the USN Carrier Group in the Arabian Sea.” My GIBS suggested that we file a near-miss report when we got back. I suggested that this should be done only in case a NOTAM had not been sent to Masroor (In the event, prudence prevailed and we did not file the near-miss).
The ordeal over, we were expecting the ships to be only a few minutes away. We found a patch in the clouds, sliced down towards the waves and, with nothing but fear of God in our hearts, started a visual search. As luck would have it, the ships were caught with their lights on. We made a tame fly-by before making a quick exit, since fuel was not enough for a showy afterburner blast-off over their decks.