Subs, Beer and Friends...
Last night we had a company party down at the train station. There were some good people there, and I wore a tie. (For those who are curious, it was a skinny brown tie from the sixties. I don't think it looked very good on me, but I like wearing ties.) There were some long subs from subway (which I don't approve of) and a keg. Someone brought an I-pod that was overloaded with shitty emo music I don't like, but eventually, Weezer played and I felt at home.
Weezer reminds me of basic training. When I was deprived of music, I would hang out with my friend Steve, one of my roommates and best friends. We would run and sometimes sing Weezer songs. We imagined ourselves standing in a park, barefoot and barbecuing listening to Weezer. It got us through the hard times. I remember being at the rang, in the mud and rain and laying on my stomach wearing plastic pants and a top. The clothing didn't do much to protect from the rain and was so hot you'd be drenched in your own sweat anyway. I'm not one of those people who loves to be muddy and dirty and the novelty had, by that point, already worn off. As I lay there, Steve says, "you know Harmon, you're my best friend." and I replied, "yeah...you too." I think we had known each other a week or two, at most, but it was, and is, true.
Funny how the army works like that. I've met my best friends in the army, Adam, Steve, and James in equally simple situations, but we've stayed good friends and close friends ever since.
Two nights ago, I gave an inbrief to the incoming prep school class (USMA '11). They asked all the same questions I did when I came, about how close they would be when they were here, would they see their old friends, how much freedom would they have, is it hard, what's the hardest part etc. I found it hard not to laugh...not at them, but at myself. The last five years have flown by, and yet, here I am, worried to holy hell about the next five. You'd think that 26 years into this game, I'd understand the rules a little better.
You'd be wrong.
Weezer reminds me of basic training. When I was deprived of music, I would hang out with my friend Steve, one of my roommates and best friends. We would run and sometimes sing Weezer songs. We imagined ourselves standing in a park, barefoot and barbecuing listening to Weezer. It got us through the hard times. I remember being at the rang, in the mud and rain and laying on my stomach wearing plastic pants and a top. The clothing didn't do much to protect from the rain and was so hot you'd be drenched in your own sweat anyway. I'm not one of those people who loves to be muddy and dirty and the novelty had, by that point, already worn off. As I lay there, Steve says, "you know Harmon, you're my best friend." and I replied, "yeah...you too." I think we had known each other a week or two, at most, but it was, and is, true.
Funny how the army works like that. I've met my best friends in the army, Adam, Steve, and James in equally simple situations, but we've stayed good friends and close friends ever since.
Two nights ago, I gave an inbrief to the incoming prep school class (USMA '11). They asked all the same questions I did when I came, about how close they would be when they were here, would they see their old friends, how much freedom would they have, is it hard, what's the hardest part etc. I found it hard not to laugh...not at them, but at myself. The last five years have flown by, and yet, here I am, worried to holy hell about the next five. You'd think that 26 years into this game, I'd understand the rules a little better.
You'd be wrong.
posted by Adam at 8:30 AM
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