or "that deaf, dumb and blind kid, sure plays a mean pinball"

2230 - "Spider monkey!? Where's Spider Monkey? Do you know where Spider Monkey sleeps?" [Editor's note: there is a sign posted eye level on the door to our room that lists where everyone sleeps] I had been 3/4's asleep for 20 minutes or so. 3/4's no more, transition to 0/4's asleep.  "We need to check the inspection stickers on the ballistic plates that go in your vest, to make sure they are safe." [Editor's note: I appreciate the concern for my safety, but what of the concern for my health?] I had fallen drifted to 3/4's asleep, two bunks down from young Spider Monkey, without sending in the "thumbs up" that in fact my plates were all set, so I sprung up, grabbed my vest and drug it out into the lighted hallway to appease the requester. It took 5 minutes.  I haven't moved with such purpose in the last few weeks, they've learned how to reach me. [Editor's note: my plates are all set, you may rest assured tonight].

2245 - Positioned comfortably, blanket burritoed appropriately, all the dominos are lined up.  BOOM! In a flash, LET THERE BE LUX! "I need Lieutenant X and Lieutenant Y. Sirs, I need to see your ballistic plate stickers." [Editor's note: I don't think he actually used the term "sirs", but at that moment I loathed him equally, but didn't have the wits about me to make a snappy comment]. Roll over, extend the burrito to include the melon, and click my heels together sans ruby slippers. Inspections success, lights out again.

2300 - All settled in...again...and someone poked the bear. I'm not sure I can effectively paint this picture for you.  It's worse than normal snoring. Not for it's pitch. Not for it's volume. It plucks a string in your psyche far deeper than the five senses. Imagine sitting in the viewing room of a death row execution, watching them push the button to release the chemicals, and then wincing in absurd fascination/concern for the moment human life extinguishes. Breathing...breathing...slightly heavier breathing...silence...silence...silence...silllleeeeeennnnncccceee...[Editor's note: holy shit, is this guy dying right across from us? "Not it" on giving him rescue breathing...OK fine, ugh.]...and then it comes.  A sound like Deadmau5 and Diplo battling on the soundboards in a tribute to DJ AM using avant-garde jungle animal sounds and industrial forest clearing machinery. [Editor's note: Is this feasible? My club DJ game is slipping]. Immediatley we're all relieved that we don't have to provide rescue breathing, and then we remember that we are still awake...and that the sequence is going to start over and repeat...all night.  I'm not dropping names, but someone definitely said "please stab him in the neck".

0300 - Wake up, shuffle to the latrine and "pass water".  Everynight I'm shufflin'.

0415 - "That guy" rolls out of his bunk, after his alarm goes off, and stumbles through his wall locker.  Every creek is amplified. Every clunk is a sledgehammer against my ear holes. The light in the hallway is activated by the motion sensor. Back to sleep is possible, but not likely. I am defeated.

0430 - My alarm goes off. I catch it on the first note, because I do it like that. Courtesy is a cold bitch. See you out near the track for an accountability formation. Mornin' Wednesday.

The title of this post was meant to refer to my adventures around the base with the boss, riccochetting from office to office, popping our heads in with a "Howdy neighbor. Who are you? And what do you do?" Tomorrow, remind me. [Editor's note: I'm wearing my black out sleep mask and earplugs tonight. Touche.]