The Worst Night Ever

Last night started off like most Saturday nights at the USO. We were moderately busy with troops enjoying the video games, cinema, phones and Internet. About 30 people were gathered around TV2 watching football on AFN. Every few minutes the noise level would soar and then subside with the plays of the game. Our volunteer, Sgt. Smith*, was covering the front desk, so Christine and I went into the office to work on September events. Steve, our Center Director, was scheduled to work from 23:00 until 07:00 to cover Joe's night off.

Steve arrived at 23:00 and everything was running smoothly until 23:45 when he came into the back and asked us to help Sgt. Smith because there were a lot of people in line and we were starting to get backed up. Steve does not have a lot of experience at the front desk so I took over on the computer and Christine went to stock water and gather the trash for our shift end.

Then the masses started coming, and coming, and coming. One NCO told me that eight busses had just pulled in. The new arrivals were told about USO services in their orientation. Everything was exactly as it should be; it's just that the busses don't usually arrive in the middle of the night when the Center Director is working by himself. I decided to stay until the rush was over.

We opened up the phone behind the desk and made all three phones in the USO office accessible for troops. Even with 15 phones available and the talk time cut from 30 minutes to 20 minutes, we still had over an hour wait time with 50 people on the telephone list.

The computers were equally as popular. I directed one officer on computer No. 1 (right next to me) before I realized he was E9 (Master Sargent, just lower than the king) and most likely in charge of all of the troops in Southwest Asia. We chatted while I worked and I was not at all intimidated. No, really, I wasn't; I'm sure of it.

Two young Navy enlisted (Frick and Frack, the Idiot Twins**) next took over computers 1 and 2, acting like 12 year old girls at the mall. They were giggling and flirting with everyone; changing our rules and making up new policies for the USO and rudely interrupting me with asinine questions every two minutes. I'm skeptical that they passed through any kind of military training, and also thankful that USO Duty Managers aren't issued weapons.

After three non-stop, fun-filled hours, at about 03:15, we had almost everyone accounted for and I left Steve to fend for himself.

It was an amusing and challenging evening and the time just flew by. I was doing excactly what I came here to do. In no way was it horrible, except for the following:

WARNING: If you have a weak stomach, stop reading now. Seriously. It's not worth it to continue.

While I was working with Sgt. Smith* I picked up my drink to finish it before I tossed the bottle in the recycle bin. Turns out it wasn't my drink, it was Sgt. Smith's dip tobacco spit bottle. Although I coughed it up immediately, Sgt. Smith spent the next half hour laughing hysterically and I spent the next half hour gagging. It's almost too much to think about, even now.

I warned you.

*Not his real name
**Not their real names