Boot Camp: The First Day
"Off the bus! On the bus! Off the bus On the bus!" Such was the theme upon arriving at boot camp. I had stayed up the entire night before, anticipating this very moment but never expecting the chaos I was now a part of. Picture 70 people on a school bus, rushing as quickly from and back into its cramped confines in unison as possible. Anyone clumsy enough to get trampled or delay the effort in anyway was immediately rewarded with an eyeful of spittle and an aggravating thump to the forehead from the stiff brim of one of the drill instructors' campaign hats as he reminded you of how worthless and insignificant you really were. The breaking of men had begun. Even from the start, it was clear they intended to break every single one of us.As we scrambled back and forth from the bus to the parade deck, a large concrete slab for military drilling that had to be well over 100 degrees to the touch, we were dropped as a group into the push-up position. If we didn't get situated fast enough, back onto the bus to try at it again. I quickly learned to find humor in the repetition of it all. Anyone here must have had a disorganized life and this was collectively no easy task for us. Being a team-player doesn't usually land you in these kinds of situations.
After about 20 minutes of the bus nonsense, we were picked out one by one to advance to the next stage of our "orientation." You were selected on physical output. The people exerting the most physical effort were picked first in descending order. Over a three month period you'd be amazed at how many of my fellow morons never did grasp this simple concept. I just blocked out all of the negativity associated with my situation and relied on my extremely competitive nature to fuel an enthusiasm for it all. We were going to have to be a team for this to not suck entirely, and what better way to motivate those around you than show them up? For three months, I'd be a hardcore trashing mother f*****.
The next section consisted of you getting your head shaved by a barber from the neighboring prison. These inmates seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in leaving patches in your head. What they appreciated even more were the faces of the people whose hair they were cutting. Eyes bulged, bewildered, and shocked. Sweat streaming from reddened faces and dripping onto heaving chests. Many people had come from county jails. I had been in high school just two weeks before and had only turned myself in the night prior. I was in a much better hygienic state than most of the others due to this, and was gaining a great appreciation for the miracles associated with good "product". I think everyone but me was suffering from some degree of dandruff. Some of these boot-campers were afflicted by dandruff so extreme, I can only describe it with these words: instant-mashed-potatoes. You know, before you add the water? Gross! Aveda probably wasn't on the commissary list in the county jail. You could tell.
Once stripped of my hair, I was then told to take a shower. Provided to me was a single medicine cup of some substance which I gather was intended to kill lice, scabies, and any other parasite one might have transported into the facility with them. This was all done prior to visiting the nurses, where we received a physical and were drug tested. I'm pretty sure I failed the urinary analysis. As they say, "what they gon' do? lock me up? I'm already locked up!"
The only real distinction the medical staff made with the physical was "fat-body" or "non-fat-body." Fat-bodies were individuals that were relegated to half-portions at every meal and no dessert until significant physical improvements had been made to their physique. I couldn't imagine. The boys in this grouping looked hungry. One of these fat-bodies in my platoon ended up shedding 90-100 pounds in a little over three months of boot camp. It couldn't have been healthy for him. The skin which hung over his belt-line at graduation would forever be his reminder of boot camp. He looked healthier in clothes, but such an extreme and accelerated weight loss made him no more physically appealing with his shirt off I'm sure.
Leaving the nurses' station in single file, hands on the shoulders of the person in front of you and in step, or "asshole-to-belly-button" as the D.I's termed it, we were herded towards the canteen. A canteen, not the container, is a depot or store in military terms. We were outfitted there with newbie greens, black boots, canteen and canteen belt, a hat, boxers, socks, t-shirts, unsatisfactory hygiene products, and linens.
The Orientation Squad Bay was our next destination. Upon entering the dormitory style building, the first thing I noticed is that there were other people already there. I had thought that everyone who I had been on the bus with was going to be in my platoon. Making my assigned bed as directed, I learned from one of the already settled in residents that we would be competing in just two weeks time for 50 slots in the next platoon to be organized. There were 80-90 people in the squad bay. 30 slacking performers, or knuckleheads as I would hear them described, would be leftover to try again in another two weeks to earn their way into a platoon. I went to bed, staring at the ceiling of what I hoped would only be my home for the next two weeks, knowing not what physical and mental tests lay ahead of me, but only that I would conquer them and get out of this boot camp as fast as I could. I was locked on! This place would be a memory in three months and my life could then regain some sense of normalcy. I was sure of it. (Click here to subscribe to my feed!)
Once stripped of my hair, I was then told to take a shower. Provided to me was a single medicine cup of some substance which I gather was intended to kill lice, scabies, and any other parasite one might have transported into the facility with them. This was all done prior to visiting the nurses, where we received a physical and were drug tested. I'm pretty sure I failed the urinary analysis. As they say, "what they gon' do? lock me up? I'm already locked up!"
The only real distinction the medical staff made with the physical was "fat-body" or "non-fat-body." Fat-bodies were individuals that were relegated to half-portions at every meal and no dessert until significant physical improvements had been made to their physique. I couldn't imagine. The boys in this grouping looked hungry. One of these fat-bodies in my platoon ended up shedding 90-100 pounds in a little over three months of boot camp. It couldn't have been healthy for him. The skin which hung over his belt-line at graduation would forever be his reminder of boot camp. He looked healthier in clothes, but such an extreme and accelerated weight loss made him no more physically appealing with his shirt off I'm sure.
Leaving the nurses' station in single file, hands on the shoulders of the person in front of you and in step, or "asshole-to-belly-button" as the D.I's termed it, we were herded towards the canteen. A canteen, not the container, is a depot or store in military terms. We were outfitted there with newbie greens, black boots, canteen and canteen belt, a hat, boxers, socks, t-shirts, unsatisfactory hygiene products, and linens.
The Orientation Squad Bay was our next destination. Upon entering the dormitory style building, the first thing I noticed is that there were other people already there. I had thought that everyone who I had been on the bus with was going to be in my platoon. Making my assigned bed as directed, I learned from one of the already settled in residents that we would be competing in just two weeks time for 50 slots in the next platoon to be organized. There were 80-90 people in the squad bay. 30 slacking performers, or knuckleheads as I would hear them described, would be leftover to try again in another two weeks to earn their way into a platoon. I went to bed, staring at the ceiling of what I hoped would only be my home for the next two weeks, knowing not what physical and mental tests lay ahead of me, but only that I would conquer them and get out of this boot camp as fast as I could. I was locked on! This place would be a memory in three months and my life could then regain some sense of normalcy. I was sure of it. (Click here to subscribe to my feed!)
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