YOU MIGHT BE AN AGE TROOP IF…

   

You’ve ever said, “Yes sir, it’s supposed to look like that.”

You’ve had to be warned by MOC about your lack of radio discipline.

You know what 5606 and JP-8 tastes like.

Made an entire shift of aircraft maintainers stay late because they didn’t wrap up your equipment when they were done.

You know where all good hiding spots are in the sub-pools to park and sleep.

You put your brick by your head as an alarm to wake up.

You’ve stretched out a heater PMI for two weeks (and got away with it)

You “McGuyvered” all of your practical jokes with every bench stock item possible.

You’ve ever used safety wire as a toothpick.

You’ve ever had to say, “Wow, my boots are still black?”

You believe a jammer has a soul.

You talk to your Hobart during a valve adjustment.

The only thing you know about any city is where the good bars are.

You know more about your coworkers than you do about your own family.

You can’t figure out why maintenance officers exist.

You’ve ever been told, “Get some prop wash, a yard of flightline, or muffler bearings.”

You consider TDY a paid vacation.

The phrase, “Oh, by the way…” makes you twitch uncontrollably.

There’s little yellow earplugs are all over your house.

The fridge in your dorm room is only stocked with beer.

You can’t figure out why two weeks of advance per-diem is gone in two days.

You have ever used dykes to trim your fingernails.

You have ever wiped your hands on your pants.

You have ever worn someone else’s hat or Gortex just to go to the chow hall.

Everyone you know has some kind of nickname.

You hate that people working at the gym handing out towels get the same pay as you.

You have ever been tackled, duct taped to chair, covered in PET and sand, egged, sour milk, peanut butter and jellied, and slid under the emergency shower in 30 degree weather.

You have lookouts for QA.

You hate Ops, MOC, QA, SP’s, Finance, MPF and the Hospital.

You think JP-8 and wintergreen Skoal taste good together.

You know the words “beer”, taxi”, and “hotel” in three different languages.

You can’t remember half of your coworkers real names…only their nicknames.