More Updates From Back in Time

Nov 29

I am sick sick sick and tired tired tired. That's all. More tomorrow.



Nov 30

I'm sitting at the medical centre, waiting for my turn. I have some sort of cold/flu and it's really bringing me down - especially in the A.M., which is much longer than I am used to! I thought I'd get better over the weekend, with just a bit more sleep, but no. Not really at all. I don't really need medical attention though, just a chit to delay my swim test. I have a feeling that would be a BAD idea today. Of course, most of the platoon should be doing the same thing, but everyone is afraid to come here. It's supposedly ineffective and nobody wants to get put on bedrest. Do that too long and your platoon leaves you behind and you join up with a later group when there is room...however long that takes!

Other than being sick, things are ok. We got in trouble for not enough teamwork on Saturday and had to do some useless work. It was actually kind of interesting and led to an entertaining night.


We'd been sewing all day (I had to teach a bunch of the guys how so we could stitch nametags on ALL our clothes) and it was 10:30 at night when we were called to get our asses downstairs ASAP. We boot it down and Cpl. Pushup (because they are his PASSION. He said so) was waiting, and he was pissed. The course senior (a sort of liason between staff and students who "ranks" above the rest of us...the position is rotated every few days and the current one had some weird power trip going on) hadn't gotten something done and he blamed everyone else. And of course, even though the Cpl. knew it was strictly the course senior's responsibility, he said that we could have helped him more, among other choice phrases. Of course, this is true and is also one of the main things they try to teach us here at basic: When one person makes a mistake, everyone pays - so stick together and help each other out to make things work.

So...we got a lecture. A loud one. A colourful one. Then we got to run up to our rooms (8 floors, remember!), grab our kit bags, and get back down in 5 minutes. We were 10 seconds over. Well, one person was, but that meant we all were. So we had to stand in squat position for a while. And get another rather sonorous, chromatic instruction. Then get threatened with pushups. Then run up the stairs again to return the kit bags and bring back a pair of green socks. Repeat lecture and threats, and finally we were allowed to return to our rooms at our own pace - admittedly more of a trudge at this point.

When we finally got back up to our pod, intending to continue sewing, we were definitely more awake...though maybe a little out of it. Hence the entertaining evening that followed.


Three of us got there first. I sat down to sew, and Ricky (female..going by pseudo-last-names here) sat in the chair beside me and Arlan was just behind her, about to sit as well. Then I heard a yell.

"OWWWWWWW!!!!" Ricky stood up quick, bent over and standing on one leg. "I sat on a needle! Get it out! Get it out!!"

Arlan froze with a horror exactly like a deer in the headlights. I could see the wheels turning as he tried to figure out how to pull a needle out of a girl's buttcheek "appropriately".

He finally did it and then looked up at Ricky and I laughing and said rather forcefully "Don't cry!". He sounded almost afraid and it was just too much. We laughed even harder as Arlan tried to explain. "No - I said it because she's allergic to her own tears, remember? She told us earlier." Which of course was true.

"You kind of defeated the purpose." I said, looking at the tears rolling down both their cheeks. My own were keeping pace no problem. When the other guys came back a couple minutes later, we were still cracking up with no end in sight. We managed to hold it back enough to explain it, which got them going so of course we were all killing ourselves laughing.

Finally, just we were starting to calm down enough to breathe and remark on our sore abs when Mac walks back from his room where he had apparently been (yet again) trying on random bits of kit and official clothes. This time he was wearing his boxers, the bush hat and gabardine. He stopped in the hall, looked up at us and declared:

"I LOVE this F***ing Coat!"


And that, my friends, was the end of sanity for the night.


...but it is a really nice coat.