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trocheeOn my flight from SJO to Chicago, I sat in the very last row, and shared the back of the plane with a dozen or so very young men and one rather androgynous young person. I didn't realize this was an organized group, but I was introduced to this cadre by the young gangly blond boy who shared my row. "I'm going to boot camp," he said, with the blustery mode that told me that (1) he was desperately eager for me to know about it and (2) he also wanted me to think it was no big deal.
"Wow," I said. "That's pretty intense."
"Oh," he says, "y'know." he shrugs. "It's something to do." He sees no irony in this expression.
He seems so young, so fragile and birdlike. He's barely shaving; he might be eighteen. He exults "aw, man, that's tight" when we discover that the seat between us is free. He studies his Navy-produced day-planner with a neighbor who comes back to visit; he asks "what's a keel? that's not in here."
"It's the boat's backbone," his seatmate says.
"Oh, yeah, and the hull is like the skin."
His fellow enlistees psych each other up: "you know., man, there's no turning back now! we're on this plane," says one.
"Yeah, but it's a free flight," says another. "There's no other way we would get to Chicago."
"As soon as we get on that bus," says another, obviously channelling bootcamp movies, "we're all gonna be like 'oh, shit, what was I thinking', but we can all get through it if we just have the willpower."
I bite my tongue and resist saying "bootcamp is about having your will broken, kiddo."
I spend the rest of the flight wishing I was carrying the Quakers' flyers about conscientious objection. I think I will start doing that.
"Wow," I said. "That's pretty intense."
"Oh," he says, "y'know." he shrugs. "It's something to do." He sees no irony in this expression.
He seems so young, so fragile and birdlike. He's barely shaving; he might be eighteen. He exults "aw, man, that's tight" when we discover that the seat between us is free. He studies his Navy-produced day-planner with a neighbor who comes back to visit; he asks "what's a keel? that's not in here."
"It's the boat's backbone," his seatmate says.
"Oh, yeah, and the hull is like the skin."
His fellow enlistees psych each other up: "you know., man, there's no turning back now! we're on this plane," says one.
"Yeah, but it's a free flight," says another. "There's no other way we would get to Chicago."
"As soon as we get on that bus," says another, obviously channelling bootcamp movies, "we're all gonna be like 'oh, shit, what was I thinking', but we can all get through it if we just have the willpower."
I bite my tongue and resist saying "bootcamp is about having your will broken, kiddo."
I spend the rest of the flight wishing I was carrying the Quakers' flyers about conscientious objection. I think I will start doing that.
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no subject
Date: 2005-08-17 06:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-17 07:01 pm (UTC)As terrifying as it is.
Was it Mac that you ran into ?
You're a great reporter of dialogue!
no subject
Date: 2005-08-17 07:04 pm (UTC)No kidding.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-18 06:31 am (UTC)Seattle already misses ya.