3.09.2007

Road Not Taken

So there I was, hanging out with a young lady who was spending her spring break in the area to see me and some old friends. We ended up going to her old college and eating in the cafeteria type deal (they don't call it a chow hall). As I sat there and looked and listened, I was hit with two revelations.

Everyone looked like someone I knew from before. Everyone looked slightly familiar, though I had never seen any of them before in my life. I had this feeling of everyone being essentially the same, coming from the same molds. Just different make and models of people. That if I were to go to a completely new city and find myself in a place where plenty of people of my age group hang out, I would have the same experience. I could go on, but I'm sure everyone experiences this, and it is not at all interesting.

The next one: I half listened to a few conversations that the kiddies were having and they were all so casual, cordial, normal, and politically correct. Conversations that could be aired on NBC anyway. No one was being loud. And I realized that I'm just so accustomed to being around my fellow infantrymen that innocent conversations like this are almost alien to me. It was pretty funny.

We throw the F word around like a football. No subject is taboo, nothing is safe. I remember just the other day, my roommate mentions, "I love how quiet POGs get when we're around."

POG - noun - [pOHg]
Personnel Other than Grunt, non-infantry or non-combat arms [debatable]


Its true. We're loud, boisterous, obnoxious, we feverishly cling to a complete disregard of social graces, we shun sugar and spice and everything nice. We are caged animals with swollen egos, we are your typical male times ten. We're Tucker Max and John Wayne, and a whole lot of Al Bundy. We are rowdy, loud, foulmouthed monsters of society, the civilian world's discard pile, and we swarm like hordes of debauchery and all things rife with asskickery. Good GOD I am pumped now. I'll need some time to readjust when I get out. Until then, I hunger for red meat and beer and loud metal music and guns and women.

6 Comments:

  1. Anonymous said...
    You don't ever quite re-adjust after you get out. I was an infantryman in the late 80's early 90's and am still at times loud, obnoxious and throw the 'F' word around.
    julie anna said...
    I've been trying to describe it all this time and you have done an excellant job. What's really scarey though, is I feel more comfortable around the Infantry (and wives) than any other group of people because they make the most sense to me (and know how to have the most fun).
    Michael said...
    Hey Friend,

    I have enjoyed your blog for a bit now. This is my first reply. You have caught a bit of the joy of being a soldier. I enjoyed reading it.

    My cousin just came back to our unit after a few years on the street, mainly because of the guys.

    Do a twenty. If you have the soul, it is hard to feel at home elsewhere.

    Your President Regan once said " Some peple have a don't know if they have made a diffrence in the world. US Marines don't have that problem."

    There is a lot of wisdom there.

    See ya on the objective, dog.
    Anonymous said...
    Some of your best writing, dude! Thanks for the insights.
    strykeraunt said...
    Infantry soldiers may be obnoxious and throw the F word around like it is the most commonly used word in the English language to explain anything, however, they are some of the most respectful individuals I have ever interacted with (Ironic huh). In my opinion, the F word from a soldier's mouth is not offensive because the intent is often not to demean, insult or as a result of anger.
    Anonymous said...
    This is why a lot of you guys end up being cops. We share the same level of comraderie mixed with a hyper state of depravity.
    Uncle David

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