Gunshots on day one...two...three

I'm walking the hallway (in Hawaii, all hallways are outside) alone when I hear gunshots. Now, I'm not the type that can hear a gunshot and tell you bullet caliber, type of weapon, and whether the shooter was left or right-handed, but even I could tell this was serious business. I slowed my pace, because even though the shots were in the distance (maybe two hundred yards), that sound just makes you more cautious.

Just as I was beginning to think that I heard incorrectly, there was the sound again. Pap-app-pap-pap-app, about 40 more rounds. Now I'm stopped dead (in my tracks, I mean), runnning through my survival training...oh, why didn't I get some survival training...forcing the final two steps to the main office.

Inside, Tim: "ummm, were those gunshots?" Office staff: "Yeah, you'll get used to it." T: "What?!?" OS: "Oh, there's a military firing range across the street, you'll hear that every day." T: "A little heads up would be nice."

By day five, I'm no longer "red: running for cover" at the sound, but I would say that my internal terror alert level has been downgraded to "burnt hazel: slightly jittery."

Just one more of the disturbing things about living on a floating military installation. I have to pass through a military check-point, complete with armed sentry, to get to work in the morning.

Today, during a faculty meeting, an F16 flew by the window...I waved at the pilot, and if I'm not mistaken, he waved back.

On my way home, the sun over my car was completely blocked by the shadow of a 767 coming to land...I think I ducked.