A Day Almost-but-Not in the US Navy, Pt. 1

5pm, Tues 11/18/08

A slick dark blue BMW(?) town car, leather seating, GPS and the works rolls up the Bonsallo driveway (a ploy to make me think the Navy pays well I'm guessing.) Inside drives Petty Officer Williams, the amicable, unimposing but nonetheless charming fellow who by random chance winds up being my assigned recruiter. It could have been some bullying buff dude out to nail his contract quota no matter the cost, it could've been a half-insane wash up who joined the service by necessity. There's a lot of hype about military recruiters being these fearsome slick manipulators who will hypnotize you into a decision you'll regret, and many of them are; this guy definitely ain't one of them. He's an instantly readable and honest average Joe who by the end of our magical car ride convo has made me promise that if I join, I will not under any circumstances agree to become a recruiter. "This sh*t is so stressful, you have no idea." He's since become something of a friend - not to be confused with InstantFriend(tm) - and one I'm proud to have, though I suppose we still really know each other all that well.

We arrive at the Crenshaw Recruiting Station shortly thereafter, tucked away in an obscure corner of the ghettotastic Baldwin Hills Mall. The office is bordered by a TJ Max, some magazine store, and off in the distance the unmistakable golden arches of a McDonalds. There's a strange charm to the place. I'd dropped by here twice before in the previous month to take the ASVAB, the military entrance standardized test that basically just verifies the existence of your brain, so the office was already familiar territory. This time I'm treated to sort of a window into the recruiters' daily lives. Williams needs to make a pit stop here to finish up his day's paperwork before driving me down to the hotel (more on that later) for the night and "his day's work" lasts until almost 8pm. Him, his grizzled superior and the rookie underling all seem exasperated and ready for a bar trip. They exchange in jokes, chat idly between each other about their lives at home, their errands, etc. These are shockingly normal people:

"I was out on my honeymoon on Catalina the other week and damn Chief calls me demanding I come back in... I'm like screw that, I'm on leave man. There's a copy of the leave orders in my desk, in my car, in my cabinet, on the Chief's desk... he knew what was up. That's the most important rule of the Navy, make copies of everything. I opened the (wine) bottle and was 'Well too bad, not fit for duty! (burp)'" lol

As they close up shop for the night, I chat with the only other recruit present, a good looking Hispanic girl named Forgothername. Unlike me who due to my utter lack of certainty in wanting to join was on the (very)delayed entry track, this girl was "shipping" right the next day. She's more excited than nervous and despite being only a few months out of High School exudes an aura of calm maturity. For her, the service is an ingrained family tradition that she'd already been planning on for a while. Due to a lower ASVAB score she'll have to settle for Boatswain's Mate or something but this does nothing hurt her enthusiasm - it's a right of passage for Forgothername, not a grudging last resort or risky drastic life change.

Williams finishes his paperwork and off we drive to the LAX Radisson. MEPS, "Military Entrance Processing Station" in Culver City only runs physicals starting at 5am due to low staff, too many recruits, and the length of the exam, so the policy is to simply put everyone up in a hotel for the night and bus them over in a single group in the wee hours of the morning. A complimentary buffet dinner and breakfast is included courtesy of Uncle Sam. There are around fifty to a hundred peeps staying here on most nights of which a third are bussed directly to the airport to catch their flights to bootcamp (scary!), a third are bussed to MEPS for their second physicals to ship the next day, and the remaining third are here for their first exam to make sure that they even qualify. I'm obviously in that latter group.

We arrive at the hotel, which is flooded with new sailors, Marines, soldiers, pilots, etc and check in. Officer Williams puts me on the phone with his Chief briefly who gives me the run down on what to expect at MEPS: grumpy doctors out to scare you into confessing a disqualifying broken bone or the one time you smoked at a party thereby thinning their day's workload so they could go home at 2 instead of 3. "Don't let them scare you" is his general message. I grab dinner, chat briefly with few, and retreat to the room. From my window is a good view of that crazy roundabout with the rainbow glowing pillars of light at the LAX entrance. Airports are such epic places when you think about them; all the emotion that must be taking place in those departure gates...

4am the next morning I skim breakfast and stumble out into the driveway along with fifty other 17-20somethings. Most are guys, more than you'd expect are girls. There's some serious palpable nervousness in the air, this is the last decent contact many of these recruits will have with home for months. A hotel shuttle pulls up. "LAX Terminal #" There's a unanimous "Awww damn!" as everyone waiting for the MEPS bus is disappointed. The "shippers" scramble aboard, it can fit only a fraction of them and drives away. It'll be a little while until the next one comes. Impatience sets in immediately. I look from side to side...

A shaggy haired skater boy twirling a wallet photo of his girlfriend.
A chubby dude looking nervous and awkward.
Two girls, clearly BFFs beforehand, giggling in excitement.
A tall fellow talking quietly on the phone with a loved one: "I'm scared."

There's Hollywood and there's real life, rarely do the two match. This moment was one of those rarities. It was romantic, poetic... Guys and girls from all walks of life, many not even from LA, some not even out of puberty, all gathered here at a crossroads of their lives. You knew exactly what was going through the heads of anyone with an emotional expression on their faces, and that was pretty much everyone.

The MEPS shuttle arrives and off we go.

To Be Continued...