Drake.
It was a chilly, early morning. One where you can see your breath, as you inhale and exhale ever so slowly out of an attempt to calm the fuck down. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon.
I got off the bus, and was hurried into lines with all the other girls. A blanket of silence engulfed us. No one was talking – we were just moving like we knew exactly where to go. Apparently, we already got our gear issued to us earlier in the week. I looked around, the training grounds felt oddly familiar. Time passed on, we were introduced to our bunk beds and “home” for the next 10 weeks. I could feel the intensity suffocating my lungs. It was so damn hard to breathe. Lunch eventually came around. Chitchatting was finally happening – we were checking to see who was normal and who wouldn’t kill us in our sleep. I suddenly recognized four faces. They were girls from my last training camp – the ones that didn’t make it through either. We said “yo,” sat together, and tried to identify the food in front of us. For some reason, the meat was separated onto different plates. Beef, some sort of sausage, potatoes, and something else forcefully mushed together. We seriously ate maybe two bites before moving on. Then, we swiftly walked to the trash cans, avoiding eye contact with all the drill instructors. One halted us before we bolted out the door. “WHY THE FUCK are you walking past me without acknowledging my fucking presence, dipshit?” We felt our hearts sank below ground. Damn. Almost made it out the door unscathed. “Sorry Staff Sergeant!” Oh shit. Naw, girl. She has bars on her collar. I immediately blurted out a, “Sorry Ma’am!” She was about to unleash her inner beast, but then suddenly stopped and looked at me. “Okay, fucktards, carry on.” Yeah. Too close. We lined up outside, waiting for all the others to finish eating before stepping off towards our next activity. I couldn’t really explain what kind of itinerary we were fulfilling at that point. But I know for a fact that the yelling was to be relentless. We walked inhumanly fast, replied in full screams, and looked so intense that our eyeballs were about to pop out of their sockets. Where the fuck was I? Then, it was finally mentally registered. Welcome to the Air Force officer training camp. I guess at some point in the months before, I decided to go through hell again. Wasn’t it enough the first time? Guess not. Maybe I liked this shit. Freezing dorm rooms, sleeping abnormally straight to not muss up the covers, 5 minute showers, being hungry all the damn time, sweating all hours of the day, getting fucked with, and plenty of girl bonding time. “Well aren’t you just a little princess! Bet your mommy and daddy love you very much don’t they. Well. Wake the fuck up. No one gives a rat’s ass about you here, you hopeless piece of crap!”
—
Those Drill Sergeants/Instructors are so poetic with their words;
“You’re as fucked up as a soup sandwich.”
“Don’t smile at me. I’m not your mother. I do not bake you cookies. I don’t hold your hand across the street and I sure as fuck don’t want to see you smile.”
“What did you say??? I do not speak cookie monster!!!”
“You eye fuckin me?! What are we, on a date?! We just met! I don’t know you!”
“YOU THERE.” “Yes Staff Sergeant!” “ASK ME IF I’M A TREE!” “I’m..wha?” “I SAID ASK ME IF I’M A TREE!” “Are you a-” “NO MOTHERFUCKER.”
“CLEAN? THIS LOOKS LIKE A CAN OF FUCK BLEW UP AND THIS IS ALL THAT’S LEFT!”
“Unfuck my formation dipshit. UNFUCK MY FORMATION.”
“Your mother should have swallowed you!”
“WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU COME FROM. THIS IS MY AO. AS IN, UN-ASS MY AO PRINCESS!!!”
“I’m the kind of guy you can drop in the middle of the Nevadan desert, with a toothbrush and a lemon, and I’ll meet you for breakfast in New York the next morning. Say something now fucktard!”
“I’ve got all night, I’ve got a salad in the fridge and my wife is ugly.”
“You look like a bag of shit tied in the middle.”
“MOTHER FUCKER YOU LIKE TUCKING YOUR SHIT!? ARE YOU A DANCING QUEEN!? ARE YOU YOUNG AND SWEET?!?! ONLY 17!?!?! CAN YOU DANCE?!?! CAN YOU JIVE?!?! ARE YOU HAVING THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE?!?!” “…” “WELL FUCK, ANSWER ME!” “No Staff Sergeant! I am not having the time of my life Staff Sergeant!”
“If you don’t keep your fucking eyes open I’m going to crawl into your dreams and PT you until your soul dies!”
“STOP Looking at each other – this isn’t Care Bear time!!!”
“I don’t give a flying Batman fuck.”
—
Look. I’d die happy if I could just hear one of them monsters play CoD online. “CEASE THE BLUE FALCONS ASSHOLE! OR I’M JUST GOING TO BOMB THE SHIT OUT OF YOU TOO!”
Anyway, the above portion was all a dream. The whole thing just felt so real – I actually woke up and immediately shot out of bed to make sure my room was really there and no DI’s were hiding in the shadows. I’ve never had a dream feel this real before – it all had to be for a reason right. Later in the day, I was asking myself if I would really go back. The idea hasn’t completely been shoved out of my mind. I’ve wanted to serve since high school. And it’s still not too late. And I would choose to go through the AF this time…full circle baby. Let’s see what the next dream will be. Or nightmare.
Disparate Youth. 