Day 1 - Bootcamp Conclusion - Or One of the Most Bizarre Conversations Ever

I quietly opened the door to my hostel. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. I hadn't been this tired since LDAC. Something about walking so much of the day, lack of sleep from the anticipation, and four hours of high-energy "sarging" had left me completely depleted.

My one and only roommate in the hostel was still awake in the same position I left him in when I went to leave me things: laying on his side, watching television. His bald head facing the door.

"You want... I should turn this down?"

"No man, whatever you want to do, it's cool."

He turned the television off.

My first guess was India, the accent, the few features on his face I could see. I wasn't going to assume anything. After all, I just desperately wanted to go to bed.

"So, you-you-you were at a bars or someting?"

I took a long intake of breath, the reverse sigh, "Yeah, me and my buddies went out to a couple of bars."

"Did you... have fun?"

"Oh yeah, it was a blast. You know, had a couple drinks, hung out with my friends."

This, like so many other things I had said that night, was a lie. They were my friends, I suppose, now at least. Until about twelve hours previous, they were just guys who were bad with women.

"So what brings you to New York, pal?" I interjected,

"I am visiting my seniors here," by seniors, he meant those who were senior to him, like the Japanese use the term "sempai", not seniors in the term we use it, like a senior class at a college, "They all have jobs here now. I am meeting up with them."

"Good stuff, man"

"What... brings you to? City?"

Here we go.

"Well, a bunch of my friends, we are all over the country now, so we get together every once in a while. Reminisce about old times, check on the wives and kids, you know what I mean?"

"Yes, yes. So you have wife and child?"

"Uh, me? Oh no. I'm single, some of the other guys do," Jesus, this guy is like a conversational parasite.

"Oh, oh. So you enjoy the bars?"

"Oh yeah man. I go, I meet women, got a few numbers."

He perked up, "So you 'Got Lucky'? And got a number?" It sounded so mystical when he said it. It sounded some treasure locked deep in a temple in the Amazon.

"Hah, yeah man. I got a few numbers."

"Oh, so I shouldn't be surprised if you don't come back tomorrow night?"

"God, I hope so," we both laughed, though mine was polite. One of the things we were trying to accomplish was to not "get lucky", or course, this wasn't a cultural nuance, this was a sub-cultural nuance, maybe even a sub-counter-cultural nuance, if you really want to think about it.

There was a pause. I rolled over. I thought I was done. I was wrong.

"So, what do you, do for work?"

I fought the urge to tell him that I was a Disposable Lighter Repairman. That was my line all night to the ladies, but he, even less than the targets, would understand the joke.

"Uh," another reverse sigh, "I'm a soldier."

"Sol...dier?"

"Yeah."

"What do you think of... the political policies? Would you change them?"

Oh Christ.

I gave him some answer about how we should love babies more, and how it isn't really my job to second guess the commander-in-chief. I have a paycheck to get. This seemed to satisfy him.

"You know, I'm glad I'm here. I feel like, I can be honest. Like after two days from now, we will never meet. I can tell you anything. I can be honest. Frank."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

I didn't of course. I'd been lying to strangers all night.