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I was a salty RAG student, almost two-thirds through the grueling FA-18 syllabus. After a successful strike detachment, our class had a week to relax before anxiously jumping into the fighter-weps phase of training.
It was Friday, and the only thing between that morning and an epic weekend in San Diego was my first solo BFM (basic fighter maneuvering) hop. I rolled out of the rack in a great mood just after 0930. The hop was in the early afternoon, and I had nothing else on my schedule, other than the Martini Ranch in downtown San Diego at 2100-it didn't get any better than that.
As I drove to the squadron and through the peculiar aromas of Lemoore and Hanford, I couldn't think of anything but my weekend in the big city. I'd make quick work of the poor, helpless instructor who happened to be my wingman for the day, and roll down to San Diego in time to meet my buds for happy hour.
I quickly set up my briefing room and received a few last-minute tips from my friend who had just flown a BFM hop that morning. Unfortunately, my instructor was a bit more long-winded during the brief than I had hoped for. After all, what more could I learn than what's printed in the Top Gun Tactical Manual?
After a few of my typical, RAG-student questions, we finally wrapped up the brief with only two minutes to spare before our walk time. I hastily wrote down a few notes and headed directly for the SDO desk to get our lineup. I was way behind my usual timeline. I...