mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Report from MEPS, pt. 1 I'm a little worried. I went to Hallmark this morning after attempting to give blood. Seems they've misplaced my charts and can't take my plasma without it. Either that, or the bad case of clapped-out genitalia. I opt to blame the missing records. Less humiliating. Really. I joke. But I swear to this very minute that Hallmark is haunted. Not just Hallmark, really, but every place that has greeting cards for sale. I know this for a fact. It is the only reasonable conclusion I have reached. What is my argument, you ask? Well, every stinking time I pick up a card for a look, and I move my attention from the card rack to the actual card I am reading, suddenly all of the cards grow these big legs, and they run around and rearrange themselves. And they magically know exactly how long it takes for me to read the card, decide I don't like it, and wish to courteously place it back where I found it. To my wonder and frustration, the card slot mysteriously disappeared. I then spend 10 minutes -- that is ten times longer than it took me to read the card in the first place -- trying to find the new slot. I then see a new card I like. I pick it up for a read. Wash, rince, repeat. I am a man of reason and logic. And I am a bit skeptical about most things paranormal. But Hallmark, man... It freaks my shit out. So, you want to know about MEPS, do you? For all of you newbies to the JP Experience -- or the people who don't really care to memorize everything going on in my life -- let me refreshen your memory: I am in the process of joining the Air Force, and MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station) is the final step in joining up. Lots of physicals, lots of Big Black Men yelling at you, calling you an idiot and doctors pusing their fingers up your Admiral Winky. Great fun! Not really, but... ya know... So, I get to the hotel on Tuesday evening, expecting some kind of cockroach hotel. It turns out that they board us at the Downtown St. Louis Drury Inn. It ain't a five-star hotel, but it was MUCH nicer than I was expecting. I was pretty tired when I get there, so I went straight to my room and took a nap. I was also expecting an over-zealous, eighteen year-old Marine wannabe who was intent on proving his manhood to me as a roommate. With my miserable luck when it comes to roommates, I was prepared for the worst. Thankfully, God decided to be kind. I got a 21 year-old guy who was amazingly quiet. He barely talked at all, which was amazing. I'm actually pretty internal, and when I want stillness around me and can't get it, it really affects me emotionally. This guy was absolutely great. Aaron was his name, I believe. After my long nap, I went downstairs to eat my free meal. We had a respectfully-sized menu to order off of. I got a grilled chicken sandwich and french fries. Again, not gourmet, but free. After dinner, I went back to the room and changed into some shorts, and I went to the hotel gym, located right by the pool. I got on the treadmill and ran for a mile and a half. Now, the gym's wall that faced the pool was really a big window. Add a bunch of 18 year-olds who are just about to leave for the military (those shipping out the next day were also staying there) to a pool, and all of a sudden you have a Real World episode. Lots of bikinis. Lots of "one last night of livin'!" A mile and a half on the treadmill went by pretty damned quick. It was 10:00 by the time I made it to bed, but I didn't get to sleep until about midnight. Naps do that to ya. I set my alarm clock for 3:00am; the shuttle leaving for MEPS left promptly at 4:15, before the butt-crack people call "dawn." The ladies at the Red Cross just called and said they found my records, and I could come in. This means that I will finish my MEPS story later. Good for me because I'm not sure I will have lots to write about later. Did you get your dad a Father's Day gift? I bought mine two: one was a card with the magnetic letters that spelled out "DAD" so he could always look at his fridge and remember me. I also bought him $20 worth of gift certificates to Cracker Barrel. I think I may go there to eat after I give plasma. Peace out, yo. 12:35 p.m. - Thurs., June 13, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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