Again?

The weekend pass was short. I mostly sat in my barracks feeling sorry for myself and dreading going back to school. It just seemed a matter of time I was going to get kicked out anyway and besides even if I managed to hold-my-own for a while, I was never going to make it as a Platoon Sergeant and my classmates reminded me of that every day. I was losing ground in the classroom and I was losing ground with my roommates. I was miserable. No wonder I desperately dreaded going back.

But not going back wasn't exactly a choice --I mean, that IS called AWOL. If school wasn't going bad enough, I was disappointed to have been stood up AGAIN by Newsome. I mean, granted the last time it was that little hospital incident but even so, I was upset and disappointed and now I was going back to a place I despised to live with people that despised me. What fun!!!

The situation with my roommates only further deteriorated. I got to the point I was only in my room to sleep. The only other place I could go to avoid being in my room was downstairs in the basement, the only authorized "hang out" off duty. After dinner each day I'd do my assigned chores, take a shower then spend the rest of the evenings downstairs until just before lights out. Hanging out downstairs wasn't so bad. I mean, we literally stood around in a hallway just talking or studying. Two very important things would take place here --that comes later on but for now, I was making friends, meeting people outside of my platoon, etc.

One particular time after class I went on with my schedule and after finishing up my work I went to take a shower. I was in there only for a few minutes when my roommate, the one that had caught me standing next to the door near the woman's rest room, walked in. Remember, we didn't have private shower stalls, just one big open space. We sort of had this unspoken rule, trying to give each other as much privacy as possible, to stagger our shower times but that didn't always work out and so you just gotta do what you just gotta do. I was already using a shower on the far wall, directly facing the entrance (doorway), so she went over to a shower that was on the same wall as the doorway. You know, as awkward as the situation was, you just tried to stay as far apart from one another as possible so . . . .there we were, trying to pretend the other one didn't exist, when I heard someone else come in so I was trying to hurry up and finish as it was just getting a bit too crowded for me. I look up at the doorway and ---there's a male soldier completely naked except for his shower shoes, towel thrown over his shoulder, a bag with some toiletries in his hand and I SCREAMED------------------GET OUT OF HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My roommate had not seen the guy walk in since her back was to the entrance but as soon as she heard me scream she looked over and quickly tried to uh --you know, cover up doing that whole cross your arms over your body thing. For goodness sakes, we had nothing to cover up with. WE WERE IN THE SHOWER.

I'm so angry now I just can't even think straight. I mean AGAIN??? This happens AGAIN?????? The guy was gone in an instant. When he first walked in he wasn't even paying attention and even he didn't realize it was two females in the shower, not two males. He had bright red hair, because I remember thinking his face turned as red as his hair when he looked up after hearing me scream but other than that, I don't remember anything else about him or even knew who he was.  It was quite a scene. He got out of the bathroom as quickly as he could and as he was leaving, either out of nerves or habit, he turned the lights off.

Well great! That makes it better now I'm in a wet slippery shower room and I can't see. . . and I have no idea if that guy was still in there or left or what. I mean, why did he turn the lights off? What's going on?  Was he still in there?  Lurking?  Hiding?  Waiting?

I fumble my way back to the dressing area, all the while yelling, "You better not still be in here.  Hello?  Anyone here?  Hello?", I put my clothes on and storm out of that bathroom like a mad woman. I stopped off at my room to drop off my things and I said to my roommates, "IT HAPPEND AGAIN!" Then I left the room on my way to see the Commandant. Even writing this, the anger is surging up inside of me again. Those emotions are surfacing as I recall the memory --I was livid!

Knowing we were not allowed to have civilian clothes, it is most likely I was wearing BDU pants, a brown t-shirt and probably just my shower shoes. Whatever it was, I clearly was not in a proper uniform, which was required not only to be walking around the barracks but certainly to go see the Commandant. I didn't care. My soaking wet hair, which was quite long at the time, was whipping about my face as I was angrily marching myself downstairs. The rules were we were not allowed to walk down the middle of the hall way, we had to walk single file to the furthest right of the wall, no talking and always looking straight ahead. I was also walking through areas that were "male only", which was the only way for me to get to the Commandant, and soldiers were all about doing their chores, which included cleaning and buffing the floors --and I stormed right through them like a soldier going to battle. Guys were yelling out at me things like, "Hey, who do you think you are . . . you can't walk through here like that . . . .you're out of uniform . . . . HEY! I just mopped that floor . . . " and onward I kept marching, ignoring every one of them.

When I got to the lower level where the Commandant's office was, the CQ desk (Charge of Quarters, sort of like the "check in desk"), was in the corner. It was there you were to stop and tell the CQ who you needed to see and why. I didn't stop. I remember out of my peripheral vision I could see the CQ standing there with his hands out as if to stop me but I got by him too quickly. Other male soldiers were stopping what they were doing and watching me march on. Marching -- I kept on and I didn't even stop when I got to the Commandant's office. I didn't even knock on the door. I whipped open that door and walked up to the Commandant's desk. I slammed my hands flat down onto his desk and leaned over. As I did, my still soaking wet hair was falling forward and leaving drip marks on papers he had strewn about his desk. I looked him straight in the eye and fighting back tears that were mixed with embarrassment, anger, fear and shock I said to him with all the seriousness and anger of a mother bear defending her cub, "Tonight is the LAST night a male soldier walks in on me in the shower!"

And then I realize exactly what I had done --in an instant it occurred to me all the rules and protocol I had just broken and most importantly, I was a mere E4 bursting into an E9's office slamming my hands down on his desk and demanding things. Suddenly I wasn't feeling so bold anymore in fact, I was downright terrified. I began to tremble and think, "Oh Melissa, what have you done now?"