I'm in the Army Now
Lately my life has been consumed by one giant, annoying, stressful thing:
I'm joining the army
Ok not yet, but about 2 months ago I sent an audition cd to the Army Field Band and about a month ago I received a packet of music in the mail and a letter from some high ranking official telling me that the army would like me to come to Washington D.C. and participate in the final round of the audition. If I win, I join the army.
At first I was elated, but I soon realized that this was going to be a ton of work. So my Christmas break, although very fun especially the Chrimbo Hols at Christopher's house, has been shadowed by the black cloud entitled...
Practice
more practice
never-ending practice
practice until I want to throw my flute against the wall
crying
then some bad self esteem followed by a few anxiety attacks and then considerable thought on change of career
followed by
practice...
I could probably write an entire book about the emotional distress that a professional musician endures but alas this blog is about something way more bizarre...
The Army Physical
Part of the audition process is I must be eligible to join the army. This entails me getting up at 4:30 am and driving down to the army enlistment building to endure hours of humiliating poking and prodding.
I would just like to let the world know a little of what a person must endure to go over and shoot terrorists in Iraq.
Here are some highlights...
1. You must sit in a big room and be yelled at while filling out your medical history. They ask you if you have ever had any medical problem ever. Not only once, but at least three times in at least three different ways. They then give you an entire power point presentation on how if you lie about your medical history the army will send you to jail, take all your money and you can only work at McDonalds for the rest of your life. I am not exaggerating at all. I personally was asked in front of 50 people by a large black woman when my last PAP smear was and if it was abnormal. yikes.
2. You must pee in a cup. Now you may be thinking that everyone has to do that at one point or another, however in the army an officer, and in my case a woman that certainly must be named Helga, watches you pee in that cup. My steroid-taking Helga friend ushered me into the pee room and ordered that I pull my pants down around my ankles. It is easier to pee that way, she informed me. I found that this easy-pee technique really only helped me feel more vulnerable and exposed. I managed to elude stage fright by trying to focus on not peeing on my hand and imagining a world with lots of waterfalls and unlimited privacy.
3. The highlight of the day however was when I was ordered to strip down to my bra and underwear to perform calisthenics in front of a room full of other naked girls and a doctor. These were not just ordinary jumping jacks, which would be humiliating enough, but rather a series of squats and kicks. I have proven to be particularly bad at squatting in my skivies. My shining moment came with the infamous "Duck Walk". For those of you who have never heard of it, it is a torture device where you must spread your legs, then squat down in a caveman-like position with your arms in between you knees and walk forward heel-to-toe. Its very awkward, and its even worse when Helga keeps yelling at you to get your bum-oley lower and lower. I became the target of her tirade as I lost my balance and kept having to touch the floor. Two overwhelming thoughts came to my mind at that moment, the first being sympathy for the girl squatting directly behind me and the second the stark realization that I would never make it through boot camp.
At the end of my 5 hour physical the doctor pronounced me eligible to join the army (apparently my lack of duck talent isn't grounds for disqualification) and stamped my medical file. "The army wants you," is what he told me, but now I'm not so sure I want the army. Although my morning was strange and uncomfortable it did give me a little insight into what it takes to be in the military. Whether or not I can do it is yet to be determined, but until then I'll just keep practicing...
p.s. I am very sorry for the disturbing mental images that may have entered your mind while reading this. If there are any lasting effects please let me know so I can send you some candy in the mail to make up for it.
3 Comments:
You are hilarious. I love your flute practicing stories... it makes me feel not so bad that I read very little of my assignments while getting a degree in English.
So sorry about the army physical... and Helga. And boot camp... yikes.
Angela, angela, angela... Your insight into the catacombs of military procedure is mirthful. I hope you are not traumatized for life, I certainly would be.
Do me a favor, eat a bag of Hershey's Kisses one me!
did someone say candy?
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