or "Mouth-breathers paid by the hour"

It's 0600, it's dark or still and comfortably cool. The line spills outside, and around the corner. Everyone is still waking up, stretching out, or off to the side indulging a weakness while getting cancer. Once inside, the snake continues around corners and doubles back on itself furthering the suspense.

Not Superman: Ride of Steel, Green Lantern or Captain America (whatever adrenaline releasing titles they hold). It's breakfast chow. Poor old breakfast chow.

For any of you not accustom to military life, which I assume is most of you, this is part of life for us now. No more walk up to Four Daughters Kitchen or quick drive to Uncle Bill's Pancake House. Paused are the days of rolling out of bed in your yoga pants and soft American Apparel v-neck t-shirt and whipping up something delicious in your own kitchen while Sirius radio plays in the background.

To our friends back in real life, when you grab your Starbucks/Coffee Bean/Peet's/Groundworks and either sit down for a delicious (or disgusting) breakfast, toast to us. Us, who are downgrading quality of life and those to whom this is an upgrade. Us, who stand in line for an hour, to eat the gruel, for it only keeps us alive (for meetings). Cheers.

Also, pardon my typo's and grammatical stumbles. Most of these posts are done via cell phone, powered by performance limiting chow.