Bekah Clark

About 38 days ago I lost a good friend, Army 1st Lt. Eric David Yates, in Afghanistan to an IED. 

I’ve stared at this screen, blank pages of paper, and into space a lot over the last few weeks in attempt to get something, anything, out of my brain to make sense of this.  And the more I’ve stared, the more I’ve realized that there is no easy way to put to words what I’ve got running through my brain…mostly because I’m still not entirely sure what it is exactly that’s going through my brain. 

I’m no stranger to deployments, to war.  My Dad had several of them when I was a kid - the first memory I have of my dad is him coming home from the first Gulf War.  And despite how little I was when all of that happened — I knew what was up.  I knew people wouldn’t be coming home alive.  Thankfully (and I do mean that in the sincerest way possible), that wasn’t the case for my Dad.  I was about 4 when that happened.  I’m 24 now and at almost to the precise hour Eric was killed I was at lunch with the NCO in charge of my office when I realized I’ve spent about 20 years of my life wondering if someone - my dad, a friend’s dad, a friend - would come home.  And on that day, it was my turn for someone not to. 

And it sucks.  It sucks so much more than anything ever should.  And “sucks” is just as much the best as it is the absolute most inadequate word for the situation.  “Sucks” doesn’t even begin to cover it, but it’s all I’ve got.  There’s no amount of “reallys” or any adjective that I can add to it that would make it anymore serious or real for me or anyone else.  It just sucks.

I found out through Facebook - my other very good friend and Eric’s best friend, Tyler, told me via that stupid chat function that I hate just as much as I appreciate.  Which was the best he could do considering that he was in Afghanistan too.

Eric’s services followed about 9 days later.  Attending them was single-handedly the worst and most humbling and proud thing I’ve ever done.  They were uniquely Eric.  Complete with CDs of music he felt we all needed to listen to and a letter to all of us with things he wanted us to do — read more, work out, get out and meet people, drink liquor not beer, watch the Star Wars Trilogy (yes, Star Wars).  And in typical Eric fashion, he was absolutely right about all of it.  He always was smarter than the rest of us.  He never held it against any of us though.

I’ve spent the last month and some odd days attempting to process it all — listening to the music he left for us, spending time with Tyler who made it home on R&R just after the services, and avoiding any and all things that have to deal with IEDs, fallen warriors or anything of the sort. 

Truth be told, I’m struggling with this. 

I’m angry, and I’m sad, and I’m I don’t even know what.  There’s this entire emotional level that I’m dealing with and am entirely unfamiliar with.  Sad isn’t the right word.  Angry isn’t it either.  But whatever “it” is is where I’m at and I don’t know how to talk about it.  It’s just all extremely difficult to process. 

I guess I’m just mostly struggling to deal with the permanence of it all.  My life has always been about change: the moves, the new schools, new friends, new houses.  But regardless of the change, life always went on for everyone.  That didn’t happen this time. 

Tyler put it best, “Little did I know this thing would be life, not the war.”

We didn’t know.  We just didn’t know.

So after a rather excruciating experience with United Airlines today, I thought to write them a short, which ended up being rather long, note. Long story short, don’t fly United, especially in or out of Chicago.  D-i-s-a-s-t-e-r.

To Whom It May Concern:

My experience with the entire United Airlines Travel process was beyond frustrating today.

My experience with your airline began this afternoon at the Chicago O’Hare Airport with an hour-long wait to check-in and check my bags.  This was only after walking up and down the terminal trying to figure out which line I needed to be in.  While there were signs, the lines were so long it was hard to tell where one ended and one began, and the staff walking around were of zero assistance.

After being told by my gate agent to go to what I later learned was the incorrect security line, I had to argue with another member of the United staff that I was not going to go to the end of another line after already waiting for half an hour after they informed me that I was in the wrong line…after all it was your gate agent’s fault I was there in the first place.  Apparently, the gate agent sent me to the priority line while I was not a “priority” customer.

I made it to my gate and waited until my flight was supposed to board and continued waiting until my flight was supposed to depart.  At that point, knowing my flight hadn’t left yet, because there was no line and the door had never opened, I walked up to the counter to see what was going on.  When I got to the counter I saw what apparently is United’s idea of announcing a flight delay — a power point slide on a 42-inch LCD screen which customers are expected to be able see while sitting across the terminal or wherever they can find a seat.

The flight left at least 30, if not 45, minutes late without so much as an apology or mention of it from the staff. 

The flight was smooth and took the allotted amount of time.  Our baggage delivery, however, was quite another story.  I, along with my fellow passengers, waited at the baggage claim for another 45 minutes waiting for our baggage.  Only to find out that our baggage had been delivered on an earlier flight and was available at the United baggage office.  The only reason we noticed this, was because I happened to turn around and see my pink bag on the top of the pile.  When I went to go retrieve my bag and find out why it was down there in the first place, I asked if anyone had made an announcement that the baggage was at the office and not on the conveyor because the entire plane was waiting for their items.  The United employee who I posed this question to looked at me as though I had just brought up a revolutionary, world-changing idea and then told me that no - they hadn’t made an announcement.

To add insult to injury, the handle of my weekend bag is shredded on one side.  I understand that baggage is meant to protect what’s inside, but that doesn’t mean that having good luggage (which is not cheap) damaged isn’t frustrating all on it’s own, without any of my previous annoyances with United’s service throughout the day.

Ultimately, had it just been one of these annoyances I wouldn’t have said anything, stuff happens.  But this entire string of events makes it blindingly evident that United has a lot of work to do.  Unfortunately, I’m stuck flying with you because my organization has a contract with you.  However, I can promise that you won’t be getting any of my personal funds in the future.

Thanks for listening.

Rebekah Clark

During my trips home to Omaha, I always go out with my friend Rhonda and her two daughters.  Rhonda and I go way back to my Panera Bread bagel-slinging days, and she’s become one of my best friends.  Tonight she introduced me to two newer Omaha establishments. 

The first one was Maria Bonita, a little 50-seat Mexican restaurant on Missouri Avenue in South Omaha.  The place is owned by a mother-daughter (Miriam and Itzel) duo who I used to work with a few years ago (also during my bagel-slinging days).  While I’ll admit that I’m slightly biased toward toward the two of them, I think most would agree that Maria Bonita is absolutely fabulous.  I had the Tri-Color Enchiladas, and omigod!  — so good.  I’m not generally an enchilada person, but these were fantastic. 

Miriam and Itzel have done a fantastic job setting it up.  The decor is different than I’ve come to expect from a Mexican restaurant.  They’ve traded the traditional Mexican red and green decor for a brighter (and girlier) color palette that really suits the place.  And the mural on the outside of the building is a nice change of pace for an area where older, gray buildings are the more common sight. 

The second place that Rhonda introduced me to tonight was Chocolaterie Stam at Shadow Lake Towne Center in Papillion.  Stam’s chocolate originated in 1817 in Amsterdam, Holland and journeyed across the Atlantic to the U.S. with one of the founder’s sons. 

Stam’s U.S. locations are mainly in the midwest (four in Iowa, one in Minnesota, one in Nebraska and one in North Carolina), which I find a little surprising considering the shop is something I’d expect to find in New York City, not in the midst of cornfields - but hey, I’m not complaining.

I grabbed a latte and a dark chocolate covered apricot and a corn-on-the-cob shaped nutty chocolate awesomeness wrapped in white chocolate to enjoy in the store with Rhonda and the girls. 

I also grabbed a couple of boxes of the goodies to take back home to St. Louis with me…the jury is still out on whether or not I’ll share them with others.