Not having done enough shooting in my train-up for deployment, I had to do some more. My dad and I rolled out to the VFW range somewhere near Farmington, bringing a Jeepload of guns. Among them, the pistols above (from left to right): EAA Witness (9mm), Glock 27 (.40S&W), Taurus revolver (.22LR), FEG Hi-Power (9mm), Norinco 1911A1 (.45ACP), and my Sig P239 (9mm). Then it was time for rifles – though the scope mount for my CETME wouldn’t stay on the receiver, so zeroing the red-dot was obviously a failure.
Last night was a birthday party for the husband of one of Xteen’s friends at the Independent in Uptown. At a certain point I wandered off in search of the restrooms, and upon finding them, I discovered that it was some sort of quasi-co-ed bathroom arrangement, where one door led into a room with sinks and mirrors and further doors, each containing a single toilet. One door was labeled “Ladies” and the rest were unlabeled. I stepped into the far left stall? room? closet? and went about my business, not thinking to close the door behind me (showing my poor Army manners).
Of course, during this period, a young, attractive woman stepped up to the sink, and looking in the mirror and thus at me, said, “That’s amazing.” Maybe it was the drink I’d had, but it sounded almost like a purr.
Amazing? What’s amazing? My back was to her, and it wasn’t like my enormous wang was coiled on the floor like a firehose as I conducted my micturition.
I stepped out to wash my hands and apologized for not closing the door behind me. She said, “No problem, I’m used to it.” A regular, eh? I made some comment about the co-ed arrangement, and she responded with something about how the line was usually longer for the guys than for the girls.
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