A Beginner's Guide To Bullet Boy Games
Friends are the persons who talk, help and enjoy with each other. The relationship in between them is called friendship. There is bonding exist among group friends. The bonding in friendship is based on similarity in interests and ideas. It may be of varied types. The relation of friendship is called best friends when two persons have similar thoughts. Other than best friends, all are called as group friends or class mates.
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Get together with friends:
The friends can't live without fun and luxury. Yes I'm targeting the bachelor, prom, bachelorette and other celebration parties. Many of the people are unable to differentiate among listed celebration. These terms are distinctly different. Bachelor party is given by boy/girl to friends and family before the night of wedding. At the end of high school, dance party is held. Such function is called Prom. The Bachelorette party is organized by couple after the marriage. The last one I mention is celebration party. This is the gathering to enjoy success or birthday. These all informal meetings are the indication of lavishness. In these gathering, the friends came at the decided place in luxurious ride.
The luxurious vehicle to ride in:
The above mentioned content was little introduction of friends and parties. While there was also given importance to luxury. The questions are:
The answer is very simple hidden in "Mean of Transportation". The logic is to ride in advanced technological vehicle. The vehicle must be large to carry all the guests. No doubt the most exclusive vehicle is Limousine (sign of Luxury). The vehicle is classified in multiple types of transportation. Every car has some specifications according to carrying capacity and occasions. 20 passenger Limo Party Bus is invented to facilitate all invited guest.
Secrets to ride in Limo Party Bus:
What are the general views of world about the limo cars? I think; nothing more than large, comfort, expensive and showing off status. Well they all are quite true. There are many more companies to offer a tour on rent. This is just to fulfill the wish of interested people. The features of limo bus are described as under:
• Interior: Supreme comfortable seats for the relaxation of clients. Leathery designed couches and cushions invite to sit on. Leather of sofa is of high quality. The bus also provides full security. Some are bullet proof, lacquer windows, armed guard and professional Chauffeur (trained driver of limousine).
• Entertainment: For the leisure of friends and family, there is large LCD (liquid crystal display) hanged. The size is as high as everyone can watch easily. The music plays role of glint in travel. That's why vehicle has designed with perfect stereo system. The wall of car is created to support the music waves.
• Bars zone: The bachelor party is nothing without alcohol. The bus has a "mini club". The glasses are sterilized and arranged in stylish manner. The dancing pole is stick as well. For the smoke enjoyment a fog machine is placed at base of front seat near bar.
• Separate luggage capacity: The bus has a separate luggage room. Generally it is situated at the back of passenger's zone. The luggage capacity is large to load all the small and bigger baggage and suitcases. It is so for the ease of traveler.
• Air conditioning and heating system: Maximum numbers of country face at least 2 seasons annually. These are winter and summer by name. That's why cars have both air conditioning and warming system. In winters heating system is on. While air conditioners are switched in summers.
• Decorations: The colorful lights so called disco illuminations and LED (light emitted diode) lighting are settled. Their location is both at top and bottom. The roof is decorated with starts. The material has an absorbent quality. They glow when light spread over them.
• Very Important Person (VIP) room: More over there is a room for chief guest. This is enclosed area for VIP relief. He/she is treated like prince/princes. As the chauffeured is there for full time assistance.
By Michael Podwill / October 14, 2010
Tom Brokaw called them the Greatest Generation. Considering all they did to protect America against the truest existential dangers, who could argue?
During the waning days of World War II, more than 16 million Americans were in uniform, fighting overseas or getting ready to do so. Today, their ranks are thin and getting thinner. In May of 2008, the Department of Veterans Affairs announced that World War II veterans are dying at a rate of over 1000 every day. That number is surely larger now.
There are 2.5 million ex-soldiers left from the original 16 million. According to VA estimates, by 2020, virtually all will be gone.
Those somber estimates have always touched my heart - and for a most palpable reason: My father, Robert Podwill, was a World War II vet, a proud member of that true band of brothers. Now the statistics mean even more because last Monday, October 4th, dad joined the vast majority when he passed away.
He was 90 and he was as brave at the end as when he fought his way through France, Belgium, and Germany. Along the way, he collected a number of medals for heroism, including a Bronze Star, the fourth highest combat award of the US armed forces, granted to ground troops who distinguish themselves in action.
Dad suffered numerous major injuries overseas, ones which tormented him for the rest of his life. He lost all hearing in one ear because of the incessant boom of artillery. He suffered from frost bite in the Battle of the Bulge, during the horrendous winter of 1944-45. And he endured a badly dislocated shoulder, the result of hand to hand combat, in a barn where, all alone, he was set upon by a hiding Wehrmacht soldier. They rolled on the ground, the Jewish GI from the Bronx and the blond behemoth from Hitler's Deutschland. God knows what might have happened if not for the intervention of a fellow Yank who, hearing the tussle, raced into the barn and was somehow able to put a bullet in the German's brain.
Dad's injuries justifiably earned him a Veterans Administration disability rating of 120%. But for reasons unknown, his monthly pay-out was accorded at only 80%. The difference between his true rating and his real compensation was enormous, and the discrepancy was never explained in meaningful fashion. Just recently, we took steps to contest that issue, and we had cause to hope that the VA would soon make the necessary adjustments - ones that would put dad's monthly benefits at a level comparable with his real disability rating. Rectification thereof, for this hero of his country, would have made a noteworthy difference in the family's monthly fixed income. While he's no longer around to benefit from such consideration personally, his wife of 62 years, also of that same generation of greatness, would feel a significant slackening of the financial burden she now endures. Rest assured, we will continue to petition the VA and the government, hoping for justice, for a hero's simple fair share.
My father loved to talk about his army days. They were brutal times; combining colossal ennui with moments - or days - of sheer terror. His tales of that time when he served his country, when he did his part to keep America's enemies at bay, always stirred my soul. But the tale that moved me the most happened before he ever put on the uniform that ultimately bore the markings of a staff sergeant.
It happened in January, 1942, about seven weeks after Pearl Harbor. Dad was not yet 22; he was healthy and strong and he knew his time to serve was imminent. Even more important, he knew it was his job to fight for his country in her time of need. In those days, they didn't call it "giving back." They simply did what they had to do. That's why dad wouldn't wait for the draft. Instead, he enlisted.
He was living with his mom and dad at the time, in a tiny flat on West Farms Road in the Bronx. Always a paragon of consideration for his parents, he planned his move with precision. He woke up very early on a bitter cold Monday morning. Sun-up was hours away. He dressed in silence, bundling against the cold. He took all steps to avoid wakening his mother, a soul as loving and sensitive as he. He didn't dare deal with her, with her tears at watching her son march off to join the wartime army. It would be much easier to explain post-facto that her beloved middle boy would soon go off to fight Hitler. So he snuck out into the frigid pre-dawn darkness, shivering his way to the subway station at Freeman Street. Then the long, lonely ride to the Whitehall Street induction center way downtown, at the very end of Manhattan.
I would often think of that special young man and his cold, dark journey on a clattering subway train. It was the solitary passage of a genuine American hero, of a father whom I always adored - and now miss with all my heart.
