Final Thoughts and Reflections of the NCLA Thunderdome

I realized I haven't posted any pictures of my whole cruise/training experience. I have none of the cruise portion of my time with NCLA, but I do have a few select pics from my training that I'd like to share with all of you. So come with me as I take a walk down memory lane...

Let's start with my roommate George.



In the picture he's holding three letters demanding the resignation of former congressman Tom Foley, The Speaker of the House, and the President. See that look in his eye? That's the look of a man who's killed three or four people in a cocaine fueled rage. A man with nothing to lose. I'm so glad he's my friend. (Latest report on George: Still in Hawaii wiaitng on his MMD. Apparently some trouble with an old arrest warrant in New York is slowing his progress. "It's not a problem" he says.)

In terms of my room, I had only one contribution to the decor and asthetic of the shithole, which was this...



My Ronnie Lott action figure, courtesy of Jim Lyon!!! WE ARE THE FORTY NINERS, WE ARE ALWAYS FIGHTING AND WE'RE ALWAYS EXCITING!

This was my fire training day. Someone said it looks like I have man boobs. Don't laugh.



This was the one fun day of training, or fun morning I should say. We had to go back and watch a sexual harrassment video called "Tammy Doesn't Work Here Anymore". Anyway, this is what the fire school looks like...




That person fighting the fire is not actually me but my neighbor and fellow NCLA inmate Ashley.



Despite her drinking problem (literal not mental), she's a phenominal dancer, fearless when it comes to sharks, and quick to identify Pumas as both running shoes and big cats. I'm indebted to her for keeping me entertained during my time there.

To give you an example of what I mean by "entertaining", below is a letter we composed for the very bizzare bulletin board of "Thank You Cards" hung up in the laundry room.





I'm aware the letter makes no sense and desperately needed some revisions, however this was late in my training and weeks of sloppy joes and Jell-o turned my brain to goo. It was also 2am. Better yet, I'll just blame Ashley, it's her name on the letter anyway. Oh, and also note my poor penmanship. That was due to a blood vessel that burst in my head after enduring a ten minute conversation about killer whales with a toothless Guamanian.

And now, for absolutely no reason: a picture of Babcock in a Batman costume.



Lastly, here is a picture from the bar I worked in, where I would regularly air-guitar on bar patrons as my neck would fold in on itself until my head disappeared. Do that David Copperfield!!!!



So that's it for the pictures. If only they were scratch and sniff, then you would REALLY come to appreciate to totality of Piney Point Maryland, and life in NCLA.

I will leave you all with this final image of me, J.R., and some serious thong-ass. An image of better days.