Soria Girl

When I was seven, my dad took me to an air show back in Santa Monica. It was an over-the-weekend thing they were doing at the San Diego navy base a while from where we lived, and we stayed overnight in a hotel there. I didn’t know what an air show was, really. I mean, c’mon – I was barely sentient. He just hyped it up so much that I was excited. I didn’t even care that I didn’t even know what was gonna go on. All I knew was that daddy was happy for it and then so was I!

Well, when we actually got there, that happy image I had locked in my head was flushed right down the toilet. First of all, we had to wait about an hour to actually get into the base – they were letting civilians on base, which was just a recipe for disaster, as any military brat will tell you. Then, we had to find a spot to park. (I think I learned two or three new words from Dad just in that little scenario alone.) Then, we had to walk a lot to get to the actual area where the air show would be shown. By the time we got there, I was already exhausted.

But luckily I was still tiny enough to make Dad carry me on his shoulders, and he gave me a piggyback ride through the whole day. Which was nice, since my dad’s always sort of been built as shit and it boggles my mind. What was also cool was how he always knew when the planes were coming, so he’d lean over and tell me so I could plug my ears and spare some hearing damage later on down the road.

All in all, I didn’t really have a great time. What with the noise, long-ass lines for food, lack of hydration, and the fact that sweat was making my little-girl-hair all gross, I couldn’t wait to leave. Dad carried me out to the car since I was complaining the whole way back, and I fell asleep in the car on the way back to our hotel.

So, air shows. Back to the point. Well, living in Claymore, we weren’t far away from a navy base – there was one in Jacksonville we’d do our grocery shopping in from time to time. (I kid you not – they have a freakin’ grocery store on base.) And at the beginning of summer, it was that time of year again, and they were hosting an air show.

Dad had smirked at me once during dinner a few days before it, and he’d asked, “You wanna check out the air show down at NAS Jax?”

I looked at the guy like he was insane. “And have my ears blown out?”

“C’mon, you’re in a band. You’re used to it.”

I snickered out of habit.

“No, but really. It’d be fun. You haven’t been to one of those in years.” He paused, drinking a big gulp of orange juice. “You can ask your boyfriends to come, too. I won’t mind.”

If I plucked out a hair every time he referred to Plaster Caster as my “boyfriends,” I’d be bald. I just rolled my eyes at him. “I don’t know if they’d wanna go.”

“You could ask them. I’ll pay for everything.”

Something flickered in his eyes for half a second, but it was gone. For a moment he looked sad. I didn’t know why he’d feel that over the situation, so I ignored it.

“Alright, I’ll ask,” I shrugged.

- - -

They…actually seemed interested in that damn air show.

Ren said, “Why not, I’ve never been to one,” Brendan said, “Oh, hell yeah, I’ll go!” and Luke said, “Dude, aren’t those things like really loud and stuff?”

So the plans were set – my Dad would carpool us out to the navy base in Jacksonville and we’d chill at the air show for a day. It was a Saturday, the first Saturday of the summer, and who knew? Maybe it’d be a great kick-off to a better summer. Cough.

Bad memories of hearing loss aside, at least I’d be spending a day with my friends rather than being awkwardly alone with Dad. I don’t know what it was about us that didn’t exactly click, but for some reason I just never felt like I could joke around with Dad the way I could with the guys. But the guy was out at sea when I turned one and two, so…

Anyways, the traffic was awful. Even in the roomy pickup truck Dad had for years, it still felt stuffy in there as we inched forward in the endless line of cars piled before us. And even with the radio playing hippy music through the speakers, it was still sort of tense. That could’ve been the heat and anxiety, though.

“Must be crowded today,” Luke said nonchalantly. I could tell he was just trying to break the freaky atmosphere.

Dad had one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding up his head. “They let civilians on base for this. And everybody has to clutter up the road for it…”

“Hey, you were the one who suggested it,” I pointed out.

He smiled over at me. Yet again, that momentary look of sorrow flashed across his face, and he took his head out of his hand, focusing back on the road. Whatever.

Sure enough, when we got to the first gate entrance (which they hardly ever opened), it was clustered with even more cars. The police and sailors and soldiers stood by, guiding people through the tangled web of roads. Civilians had it tough. They didn’t know the base like my dad did, who was able to navigate his way through the bigger-than-it-seems navy base without having to pull over and ask for directions.

The problem was finding a parking spot. Even though the non-military folks were in greater numbers than us, they were still too stupid to find a parking lot, so they parked on the sides of the roads, which was complicated and made some stuff impossible to get into.

Dad grumbled some and yanked the truck into a golf course parking lot, telling us, “Keep your eyes peeled for a spot.”

Ten seconds passed. Suddenly, Luke jumped up and shouted, “Dude, look!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Dad whooped, whipping us into the open space, which gave the four of us whiplash. “Thanks. Now let’s get there before everyone else does.”

And we tried to do just that, but as always, it didn’t exactly work out how we planned. When you drive past the navy base down near Jacksonville, you never really think that it’s gonna be as big as it really is. But it’s huge.

They’ve got apartments on base, a McRonald’s, apartments, a convenience store, a full-blown commissary, a golf course (for some reason), barracks, hangars, and of course, where we were headed – the landing strip for jets and planes. Dad knew it all like the back of his hand despite us only being in Claymore for a year, but I was still kind of new to it. So I was a little surprised when I first found out just how big it really was.

Apparently, Ren, Luke, and Brendan were surprised too, since I don’t even think they’d even been on a base before. They were looking around as we speedwalked through the parking lot, focusing on getting to the air show area. Their eyebrows were scrunched up in confusion like it never occurred to them that a navy base could be so big, and I couldn’t help a little smile.

“Civilians,” Dad joked, elbowing me.

I laughed. “I know.”

The parking lot we hastily found a spot in (well, Luke did) was circled by a ring of trees that did nothing to shade us from the humid heat. I could already feel the sweat beginning to soak through my shirt even though we’d only been out of the car for maybe two minutes.

We followed the flock that everybody else in front of us was a part of, strolling along the sidewalk that led around the Navy Exchange and right up by the ugly building that housed the hangars. I know aesthetics aren’t really something that’s needed in something like the military, but it had to have been the ugliest building I’d ever seen – it resembled a box, a big and chunky box that looked unfinished. I didn’t dwell on it, since right behind it was the flight strip where all of the planes would be rocketing off of.

“Good God, it’s hot out,” Brendan panted, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. “Dude, I’m already sweating like a pig.” A big moisture stain spread over the front of his shirt, starting at his collar and trailing down his stomach.

“That’s why I wore white, so nobody can see my sweat stains,” Luke boasted.

Ren examined his torso, pressing his hand to his chest to see if it’d leave a spot. “Well, I guess I’m lucky then since I’m not sweating yet,” he grinned.

Dad rolled his eyes. “It’s because you’re so skinny. Eat more.”

He glanced back at me and pointed. “Well, she’s not sweating…”

“Was that a fat joke?” I retorted. I looked down at my shirt and surprisingly, no woman-stink had penetrated the fabric. “You know I have the right to kill you if you make one.”

“No, it wasn’t a fat joke!” Ren laughed, looking taken off-guard. Dad elbowed him softly, chuckling to himself. “Don’t overthink it.”

Brendan clutched me by the middle of my shoulders. “Drama queen.”

I almost crammed my hand into his gut, but that wouldn’t have helped my case out much.

Following the crowd to the air show might have seemed pretty smart at first, but there had to have been a quicker way to get there. Traffic cops were directing the cars still trying to get on base, so there were regular jams and it took a while for them to clear up. When we finally left the shady shelter of the trees and got out around the hangars, the sun beat down on Jacksonville like we said something bad about its mother. Then I could begin to feel the sweat drip down my back.

The hangars were even bigger up close. It was one hell of an agonizing walk around them to get to the air show area where all of the vendors were set up with lawn chairs scattered randomly about the place. Not a cloud was in the sky (even though it was only a half-hour drive from Claymore), and that gave the sun an even bigger chance to shine. Or melt us.

“I hate Florida,” Ren finally spoke, his voice cracking.

“It’s not much different in, say, California. Trust me,” Dad chimed in. He glanced down at me and looked like he regretted saying such a thing. Then he blushed and stared back ahead.

Brendan lifted up his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his face, basically flashing all of us.

“Dude, no!” Luke cried, pushing Brendan’s hands down. “I don’t wanna see that.”

“Keep it in your pants, Brendan,” Dad said casually.

“But it’s so hot! Jesus!” he defended himself. He put his shirt down, revealing the stain made even bigger by his face sweat. “We’re all gonna smell like crap by the time this is over.”

Luke shrugged. “At least we’ll smell terrible together.”

The overwhelming smell of fried foods and gasoline wavered into my nostrils. I loved that scent. It reminded me of county fairs and road trips – two things that I didn’t think I got enough of. Sure enough, lined up in front of the blocked-off planes, there were food stands parked everywhere with lines as far as the eye could see.

Dad stopped dead in his tracks. His face was blank. “We…should’ve come earlier.”

The four of us paused and looked around at the immense crowd. It was obvious they let civilians on – military folks wouldn’t crowd around one area or get lost.

“I didn’t know air shows were this popular,” Ren said weakly, rubbing the back of his head.

No matter how huge the crowd was, we just wandered around, looking for somewhere to stay until they broke out the planes. Unlike everybody else, we didn’t bring lawn or beach chairs, which pretty much meant that we would either be standing for a long time, or we’d be sitting and getting dirt on our asses.

“When does it start?” Luke asked.

Dad checked his watch. “Uh…in about an hour and a half.”

“Why didn’t we bring chairs?” I bugged him. “I’d rather carry one around for the walk than have to stand up for that long…”

He waved his hand mockingly. “Aw, c’mon, it won’t be that bad.”

Brendan held his arms out, signaling to his shirt. “I know. I’m already drenched in sweat so it won’t matter if I bake a little more.”

I glanced around. Old fat guys and old fat women were walking around with sweat stains under their boobs and over their belly buttons. So I guess we weren’t alone if we were sweating through our shirts.

We eventually just chose a spot located between two sections of the hangar where there was a little alcove that dipped away from the commotion. Plus, Dad said that there’d be planes flying directly above us from there. And we’d be close to the bathrooms – er, porta-potties, I should say.

So we stood there for a while.

In silence.

Then, “Oh, hey, watch out. There’s a plane coming. Plug your ears.”

Dad had been through this crap practically since he was out of high school, so I can’t say I was surprised when he was able to see when our eardrums could burst. I spotted a jet circling above us, where he was pointing, and on cue I plugged my ears right up so I wouldn’t have to go through too much hearing damage that day.

It zoomed right on by, shocking the crap out of all of the bystanders near us, which I had to laugh at (they think it’s gonna be all fun and games, and then bam, a plane blows their eardrums). When it was gone, Ren spoke up first.

“Is that all it’s gonna be for the show?”

Dad snickered. “Yep, pretty much.”

Yeah, that and waiting in lines. Since it was around one in the afternoon, we mutually decided that we were hungry and that it would be worth it to wait in line for another hour. I mean, what else were we gonna do? Sit in the heat? We could’ve at least stood in the heat to get some food. The line for nachos was super long and snaked around an on-display plane, and as soon as we could, we got in line.

From where we stood, we could see the Jacksonville skyline. If you drive a bit past the navy base, you could get on this bridge where if you looked to your right, you could see Jacksonville from a distance – it wasn’t New York or anything, but it was still pretty cool to look at. A section of trees past the landing strip divided to reveal the view, making waiting anxiously a little more bearable. I’d never really been in Jacksonville before, save for a few times when something called for the occasion.

“Look at that,” Brendan snorted. “What a crap skyline.”

Dad shrugged. “Yeah…” He started to say something else, but stopped.

“I dunno, I like it,” Ren added shyly.

“Me too,” Luke chimed in.

I nodded along, since a “yeah” wouldn’t really enrich anything.

Dad wasn’t lying when he said he’d pay for everything, which was good since five plates of crappy nachos cost around thirty bucks (tax free, of course). He also bought a few drinks for us just so we could sweat some more, since at that point, all of us had started visibly sweating. Not that we cared.

They had the radio playing, too. It was tuned to an easy-listening station, the same one that all of the doctors and dentists played in their waiting rooms. All they did was just play boring stuff from the 70s and generic crap from modern times.

Still, standing in the middle of nowhere on base with annoying music was better than standing there in an awkward silence brought on by the fact that my dad was a part of the military and had the capacity to kick anybody’s ass.

“So how’s your summer, Mr. Zach?” Luke shattered the quiet. Nobody, not even my friends back in Santa Monica, had the guts to say something like that to my dad after such little time of knowing him.

Dad shrugged, puffing out his cheeks and stopping his nacho mid-air to answer the question. “It’s going good so far. Can’t say much about it.”

The sound of crunching between us filled the air. Dad paused and spoke with his mouth full.

“You guys gonna keep playing music for the summer?”

“Heck yeah, we are,” Brendan replied, censoring himself for the sake of decency. He had that little smirk on his face of confidence and self-assurance. He then hung his free arm around my neck. “We’ll be great at ticking off your neighbors.”

Dad smiled but it looked forced. “Surprisingly, I haven’t gotten any noise complaints.”

“My parents get ‘em all the time. It’s why I’m stuck at home all the time, ‘cause of being grounded,” Brendan informed. It had truth to it; since his drums were a pain in the ass to move (and because he was so lazy), we mostly just played electric in his garage, which didn’t bode well with his neighbors.

“That’s because you insist on purposely playing loudly above us all,” Luke brought up, munching on his nachos and spitting cheese particles outward.

Brendan scrunched up his nose and smiled. “Yeah…”

“You guys need to play somewhere bigger,” Dad suggested. “From what I’ve heard, you’re good. Gotta get more exposure.”

Dad was supportive of Plaster Caster and stuff, since he’d sit in for some songs we would practice, and sometimes at the dinner table he’d talk about how we had talent and could take it somewhere. I didn’t really show him what I wrote since I didn’t feel comfortable about it, but when I was playing the music, I felt more secure, and I guess he could pick it up. It was pretty cool since he wasn’t one of those clichéd parents you always see in the stupid movies where they’re trying to keep their musician child from doing what they want. He was a band geek in high school as well as an ROTC kid.

“We did that awful gig Brendan’s brother got us. And we did that New Year’s party,” Ren told Dad. He seemed to sneer at the mention of Joey’s gig. Poor kid got socked in the eye with a can of beer at that one.

Dad said, “Well, that’s something at least.”

And things went kind of awkwardly like that. We continued the conversation the best that we could, with Dad’s pep talks about us making it big someday (dunno why) and Luke and Brendan chiming in and telling him about stuff like college and their future plans while I just stood there next to Ren, eating my cheap nachos and wondering where their sudden passion came from.

I mean, out of all of them, Dad knew Ren the best. And even though they didn’t talk much, I knew there was some kind of “unspoken bond” with them since he was like the first dude in my life outside of Santa Monica that was my age. So it was kind of natural that Ren would be his usual self, quiet as mashed potatoes, around my dad.

An hour swung by faster than I expected, and then the planes were circling overhead in convoluted patterns, flashing by in a burst of jet smog and engine screams. Staring at the sun hurt after a while and led to some watery eyes, but Dad had his cheapo Mal-Wart sunglasses out while we were all shading our eyes to look at the show. He looked like he was trying to be hip. No offense or anything, but a 44-year-old guy just can’t do that successfully. Especially since something about him that day seemed older.

I didn’t know what it was when it came to that. Dad normally didn’t look that old. He didn’t have a lot of wrinkles or liver spots, even though his hair was going gray in a lot of places, and even if he worked a lot of technical things with the navy, he was still built. When he smiled, he looked youthful, almost, but for some reason I’d soon find out about, that day he seemed like a weary old guy.

I tried to focus on the planes and the whirring sounds of cheers mixed in with the breaking of the sound barrier, but I found myself glancing at Dad every so often. He didn’t notice. Neither did the guys.

I couldn’t even hear myself think, let alone hear anything they were all saying when the air show was going on. When jets were storming through the clear blue sky, making things hotter than they already were, I couldn’t focus on it but I couldn’t think about thinking, either. I kept bounding back to a mix of Dad and the air show I went to when I was seven and the summer, about how everything was supposed to be great now that I had friends, but how a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that something was gonna go wrong.

- - -

Later on that day, when we got back into the car after hours of standing around, the air was still quiet between all of us. We were all talked out. The AC was running full blast, cooling our bodies but not drying the sweat stains out of our shirts. The smell of BO floated around the car, but nobody cared since we all had it and couldn’t judge each other for it.

It was late in the afternoon – four – when Dad dropped Brendan off, then Luke, then Ren. They said, “See ya later,” and jumped out of the car to go home and do whatever they normally did on a band-practice-free Saturday.

Traffic was rough getting out of Ren’s neighborhood, even exiting through the back way. We were stuck waiting at the edge of the road, the radio softly wafting melodies into our blasted ears, me looking out the window while Dad was waiting patiently for a break in traffic.

He then nudged me gently on my arm. “Hey, Soria…”

I turned to look at him, but instead of the slight grin I expected, he had on a look of worry. But he blinked, and it disappeared. “Yeah?”

Dad paused for a long time like he was thinking of something really complicated.

I looked at him expectantly.

Finally, he took in a big breath through his nostrils, exhaling heavily and slowly. He didn’t break eye contact through it, but then he did, staring back at the line of cars in front of the nose of his massive truck. “…You know, never mind.”

My mind pawed at whatever he decided not to tell me. However, something else told me that it was best not to know. So I turned my focus back out the window, at the telephone pole out the door that Plaster Caster once put up a flyer for when we were holding tryouts to get a drummer. And the sun was still beating down on Claymore in one of those rare instances where we weren’t overcast, but there were still clouds strewn across the sky in miniscule threads. But even though everything else was practically melting outside of the car, we were inside, where it was safe and cool.