Shoup Airlines

I picked the wrong day to start drinking

As was explained quite clearly in the last post, I had a good time on Friday night which imposed itself well into the early hours of the morning. I knew I would be paying for it, 8:30 am sharp, at the base. I accepted that, I just didn’t know they had raised the rates, exorbitantly. Normally, Saturday mornings are a bit of a waste as the Sergeants “in-process” us with weighing, measuring, bag inspections and the like to make sure we’re good to go for the weekend. They also squeeze some PT (physical training) in but it tends to run on the lighter side, Sunday mornings being the harder workout at oh-dark thirty. So I didn’t think the minor hangover rampaging through my brain pan would be a big deal. Say my name, Connelly…

SST Scott: Third and Fourth Platoons! Today we will be conducting your physical aptitude tests!

SPC Shoup Voice #1: YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME!!

SPC Shoup Voice #2: do you have to yell? it already hurts in here as it is.

SPC Shoup Voice #1: Did you NOT here what Scott JUST SAID?!?

SPC Shoup Voice #2: not really, i was fixated on keeping the head throbbing to a minimum. what’d he say?

SPC Shoup Voice #3: El dice que perderemos nuestro almuerzo.

SPC Shoup Voice #2: OH GOD, NO!! ow, ow, ow

SPC Shoup Voice #1: Haha, you YELLED!! ow, ow, ow

SPC Shoup Voice #3: ¡Soy rodeado por IDIOTAS! ay, ay, ay

SPC Shoup: All of you, shut up! Ow!

Pvt Glazer: You say something, Shoup?

SPC Shoup: Huh?! Er, no. I was just reminiscing about my amazing talent for timing. I thought Fifth Platoon was the only group that had to do the PAT?

Pvt Glazer: So did…

SGT Scott: Since the weather’s so nice, we thought everyone could conduct the PAT!

SPC Shoup: And there’s the rub…

Push ups, Sit ups, One Mile Run! Yeah, this should be fun. After the push ups, my chest felt like it was being pulled inward by an internal black hole. My head? It went something like this: One, ow, Two, ow, Three, Ow, Four, OW, Five, I SAID OW!, Six, OW! DAMN IT! OW!…

The sit ups weren’t much different, except for the fact that I had Big Ben striking noon between my ears. The real question? Will he puke or will he puke? One, grech, Two, grechh, Three, greechh, Four, Greechh, Five, GREEeeechhh…I don’t think I’d ever seen Glazer happier when I didn’t spew forth while he held my feet. What he shall never know is how close he came to not being so happy.

Great, the one mile run. The only event I haven’t been concerned with because I run actively. Sadly, I’d never added in the hangover factor. Can’t imagine why!? Oh right, because THAT’S THE LAST THING YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU RUN!!

SPC Shoup Voice #1: This is going to SUCK balls!

SPC Shoup Voice #2: This is going to SUCK balls!

SPC Shoup Voice #3: ¡Esto CHUPARÁ pelotas!

SPC Shoup: This is going to SUCK balls!

SPC Shoup Voice #4: Hey guys! Did I hear we’re going for a run? I have the adrenaline right here!

SPC Shoup Voice #1: Wait, where have you been all morning?

SPC Shoup Voice #4: I was sleeping in.

SPC Shoup Voices #1,2,3: ¿QUE QUE?

SST Scott: Get Ready, GO!!

SPC Shoup Voice #1: This isn’t so bad. Hang on…#2, what’s that feeling in the stomach?

SPC Shoup Voice #2: What, that? It’s just the GI tract going to DEFCON 1!!

SPC Shoup Voice #3: ¡Madre De Dios!

SPC Shoup Voice #4: Stay on target, stay on target…

At this point (maybe about 15 steps into the run), I realize most of the adrenaline is now going to be used in quelling the world war taking place in my stomach. Essentially, I have one out of four pistons running the mile. Not good. I finish it though, and then some, in the process of getting to the bathroom in preparation for the worst “run retch” ever. Only it never comes, the feeling of a retch just sits there all day as a constant reminder to NEVER drink again…

…well, at least until the next friend gets a job. Or I go to Boston…