The first day of basic training was interesting, but it certainly wasn’t the only comedic day.
Let’s face it, I do a pretty good job of playing the scared animal. I don’t run and hide, I don’t bark back, I am frozen–nay, petrified; both metaphorically and physically. I worry about doing the wrong thing and about getting in trouble whether I was the one who committed the crime or not. I worry about everything, a lot. I’m pretty sure this has something to do with my childhood, but let’s not go there. We’d need a therapist probably, and it would be too expensive.
Not too long after I had arrived at Lackland AFB for training, and everyone was to go to this Christmas party “thing.” Basically it was an outdoor event for all the trainees, and had food, games, a movie at the theatre, jumpy castle things, and a dance floor. Our TI was rather displeased with the whole scenario and referred to it as “BMT Gone Wild.” And it was. It was basically a free-for-all. The definition of insanity. People gone and lost their damn minds.
I thought it was a trick, a trap perhaps. They’d wait till it got really out of hand then the TI’s would descend upon us and the reaping would begin. Needless to say, I walked around not wanting to do anything, or eat anything for fear of getting in trouble. Then I started noticing how the field we were in was just getting destroyed. Trash everywhere, food/game tickets all on the ground, people screaming, and yelling, and even worse, grinding on the makeshift dance floor.
I started to cry (remember, I am a crier.) People thought I had been hurt and came to check on me, worried that perhaps I’d been accosted or something.
I was just pissed off. I had traded Christmas and New Years with my soon to be two year old son, to be stuck in a field of hooligans making complete jack wagons out of themselves, and I just KNEW that the wrath of the devil himself was coming for us all. I’m pretty sure the line I used in between lip quivering and gasping breaths was, “I gave up Christmas with my son for THIS?! A bunch of people being idiots and we’re all going to get in trouble for it?!”
It was at that point that the TI’s charged with babysitting the crowd just shook their heads at me and walked away. One told me to go get a cookie and calm down. (Probably sage advice) They had to go deal with the dance floor grinding anyway. As some would put it, there was no room between people for Jesus. I don’t think Jesus would have helped in that matter, I think a stick upside the head might have been a better solution.
At any rate, I decided right then and there that I was going to clean the whole field. So I grabbed a bag, and set about picking up all the trash I could find, and putting all the food/game tickets in my pocket. Amazingly enough, others joined in too. They assumed it was time to clean up, so a few jumped in. We didn’t actually clean the whole field and after about 20 minutes, we got told to stop.
By this time I had amassed quite the pocket full of food/game tickets. I found a table of familiar faces and sat down with them, explaining my tear stained face and red eyes. Then I mentioned the tickets and some of the guys faces lit up brighter than the north star. Within about 10 minutes, all the tickets were gone, and I had people coming from all over to ask me if “I was the girl who had all the tickets.”
I had become some sort of underground dealer. I had the goods, and they wanted them. Except I was all out of goods with no source. So, I guess I was a pretty crappy dealer in the end.
I don’t really remember the rest of the night except for more exclamations of “BMT Gone Wild!” I wish I could say it was due to all the top shelf margaritas I had consumed, but that would be a lie. And, then I would be worried about getting in trouble for the lie. I’ll just save myself the agony . . .