Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Commando



One of the more frustrating facts of life around here is the availability of the common bathroom. The nearest one to my desk at work is a 5 minute walk away, outside and across the street. The nearest one to my room is about 200 yards outside the front door of the trailer that I and 35 of my closest friends call home at this point (small building on the right in the picture). It can create for interesting ways to avoid the walk, but they tend to be pretty gross. So…I try to suck it up and do the walk of shame at 2am when I need to.

The showers are in the same little hooch, so in order to shower you have to get your crap (glow belt, ID card, towel, flip flops, toiletry kit, sunglasses if its sunny out, cell phone if you get lost) and wander down to the communal facilities. You would imagine that they’d be particularly clean, since the cleaning crew (locals dressed in blue jumpsuits—I always joke that they look like a NASA shuttle crew—cue “Right Stuff” theme) pretty much LIVES in these places. I’ve tried mixing it up—2100, 0300, 1400, it never fails. Just as I turn the water on, I hear the banging and “Ayyy ya yaaa” of the locals beginning their cleaning ritual. Doesn’t matter. The place is still nasty anyway.

When I head to the showers, for ease of changing, I wear just gym shorts…ala “commando.” This one particular night I wake up in the dark, and I gotta go…bad. So I go through the motions, glow belt, snack for the trip, etc. and wander down the hall. About halfway down the hall I realize that I am already “commando,” which I didn’t remember setting before crawling into bed. I look down and I’m wearing my black gym shorts, so I’m good. About 30 feet out the door and down the steps (standing on the sidewalk) I realize that I didn’t actually bring any black gym shorts. Yes, I am standing on the sidewalk, glow belt and all, in my underwear. Serious calls to nature aside, I humped it back inside, and down the well-lit hallway, rather quickly. Maybe all those guys peeing in the Gatorade bottles have a point.


1 comment:

  1. Welcome to combat, Major!

    Sounds like things haven't changed that much since Desert Storm where I shared a 5 cot GP Small with 6 other guys. Yes, when you do the math it certainly would prove out that we were "hot cotting" it.

    As far as the other "facilities" go...sounds like you still might have it a little better than we did. Our latrines were hastily constructed plywood outhouses with screened "windows." One bennie I had was that the CG of the Corps Artillery opened up his latrine to EVERYONE's use...and it was usually the cleanest facility available.

    See you on the high ground and keep up the good fight!

    MajorDad1984

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