I knew this assignment was gonna be interesting to say the least. Cheyenne Mountain - NORAD. Something about that smells weirder than chili with tuna fish and teriyaki.

A little on my background: I majored in computer science, scooped up enough credits for a minor in music, and caught the occasional class in food service. Guess which one wound up being my military career. Yes, I'm a chef that follows recipies written in Fortran and COBOL while I sing Italian opera. Sigh. Weirder things happen, such as this assignment I started to tell you about.

I knew this was gonna be nuts at the start. Most anyone with an imagination can figure out that there's some interesting things going on in the bowels of NORAD. But why would they need a new cook? Particularly one with a bachelor's in programming? I knew I'd need a security clearance, but I had no idea how high this would go. I think the only thing they didn't check was what kind of underwear I prefer (Hanes Briefs, if you must know.) The credit union even called me asking what the hell was going on, someone's been looking into my accounts!

All in all, I must have been clear enough, and I got my orders to move out. I packed up my recipies and favorite knife, and off I went. I'll tell you, this shows just how odd coincidences bring people face to face. On the flight to Colorado I sat across the aisle from an older man, gray hair, civilian clothes, but he had the bearing of a senior officer. Whoever was supposed to have the seat between me and the aisle didn't show, so I had a little extra space. Redeye flights are not really fun.

Shortly after takeoff, the older fellow's neighbor dozed off and started snoring. Loud. He sounded a little like a pig. And if sleepyhead didn't snore, he'd try to snuggle up to whover was close by. Despite the noise, I snoozed a bit too. Until someone nudged me and asked if something was taken.

"Nmmf. Huh? What?"

"I asked if this seat was taken." The old man from across the aisle.

"I don't think so. Whoever was supposed to be there must've missed the flight. Yours if you want it, and I can't blame you for wanting to get away from that weirdo."

"I've seen worse."

Right about then, fifteen more snores erupted around the cabin.

"Doesn't sound like either of us are gonna get much sleep now," I sighed. Despite my ordinarily shy nature, I decided that I might as well have someone to talk to , at least for part of the flight. "Might as well introduce myself. I'm Corporal Matt Cox, US Army Cook."

That earned me a snort from the old fellow. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, US Air Force."

"Pleased to meet you, Colonel. I've been re-assigned," I said with a seated salute. Bit hard to come to attention in an airline seat; besides, he's out of uniform. Why does his name sound familiar?

"You headed to one of the training ranges?"

"Actually, no. I .. 'Scuse me a sec, sir, I need to step over you. I gotta double check the papers just to believe it!" I said as I got up. My old laptop computer is the one piece of luggage I have never managed to lose. There's no secret info, except how I've kept the old hunkajunk running for more than six years. Or how it has managed to stay with me. So I always figured the best place to put important stuff is in the carrying case, along with one change of clothes. If only my accordion had such a good travel record...

The Colonel scooted over into my space, and now I had the aisle seat. "Let's see here, airline tickets, extra socks, toothpaste -- ah, here we go." I pulled out my orders and an envelope. "I've been assigned to Cheyenne Mountain complex-- First job I've ever had that required a security clearance." I notice he perked up when I said that. "Now who am I to report to..?" Flip, flip. "Present this pass and ask for General Hammond. And the orders are signed by ... one Colonel Johnathan O'Neill. Interesting that you have the same name and rank." Even though he really took interest at that point.

"Oh?" he asked, a bit amused.

"Well, when I was in school there was another Matthew Cox about two grades ahead of me. Caused a load of confusion in the records."

Turned out he's the man that signed my transfer orders. "First question I have, though, is why is an army chef being assigned to an Air Force installation? I don't much care who I'm feeding, as long as they keep their guns pointed the other way!"

"Someone must have liked your work. How did you wind up as a cook?"

And I told him some of what I've told you, using the GI bill for college, and I added that I can't shoot worth crap, and I was always one of the last in from a run. But word of my cooking skill got around quick. "So I traded in the M-16 and grenades for a chef knife and pepper shaker. I still gotta wear the flak jacket, though." That earned a chuckle.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, Col. O'Neill said that most of what he's done is too classified to discuss just anywhere. I opined that perhaps after we've both had our security clearances checked through we can talk at greather length. Which earned another chuckle. We both have a pretty lively sense of humor, and the rest of the flight went with an exchange of puns.

But the real surprises were still to come...

The End

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