The Gas Chamber


Part of my job, as you may have noticed, is that I’m “in the military.”
Well, marine billets get to do some awesome, and interesting activities while serving overseas/in deployable billets.
This isn’t one of them.

Third dental battalion lines up, bright and early at 0700, chattering like children anxious before a big exam.  Our gas masks are strapped to our legs, as we “march” in formation towards the forboding fun ahead (our march was the exact opposite of this).

We arrive, and line up in “sticks” of ten (the military just can’t call ten people in a row a line, can it?) with the lowest ranked going first and the highest ranked proverbially leading from the rear.
I see the gas veterans coming in and out, spewing from all sorts oforifices.  Fortunately, I don’t have a history of that …ever… happening…. Uh oh.

I quickly test my mask after throwing 20 lbs of clothing on in the 90 degreeheat (that’s about 33 degrees Celsius for the metric world, but who would put boiling water as 100 degrees when it could be 212 instead!)  The mask seems like it is suffocating me, kind of like this.  That’s good right? No bad air getting in?  I recall the quick tutorial on how not to breathe poisonous gas in this thing and am leading the way, first one in the chamber!

Now, this was not what I expected.  I expected ventilation, and like a yellow noxious gas like Pepe Le Pew coming, with my gas mask working to perfection.  WRONG.  Two marines, who clearly lost their olfactory nerves by accident or choice, I’m not sure which, stand over a grill dripping the noxious CS gas like some perverse cookout.  My gas mask is on, yet I cannot breathe.  I am the first one coughing.  Is my mask even working?  Panic sets in.  I am too stubborn to say anything and close my eyes and bear down.  It is like swimming in jalapenos while drowning in saltwater, and then rubbing salt into the open wounds – which in fact are the millions of pores on your exposed skin.
What I didn’t realize was that the first one in is also the last one out.

Recovery time takes about 10-15 minutes, of snot rockets, coughing, and hearing the same descriptions of pain and discomfort from everyone who wants to share feelings.  I like sharing feelings, but now is not the time. I have to go barf up a lung.
Disclaimer: (all in all it wasn’t that bad, a cool experience and another hurdle to get over)

Tokyo Part 1

Embarking to a new part of the world -- no obstacles at all-- except huge language barriers, sticking out like a sore (stylish!) thumb, and being in the most populated city in the world.  What could possibly go wrong?
Fortunately new places were mixed with old, familiar faces.

Upon landing our first barrier was using Tokyo's efficient labyrinth of a metro system.  Although the ticket machines were confusing, we were brave, and eventually were assisted by a brave citizen of this Emerald city.  Huzzah!

There we were, a cowardly lion, brainless scarecrow, and girl far from home -- you can guess who is who, but i'll have you know I'm Dirty, the brainless scarecrow, in this story.  Our road lay fraught with danger, mischief, hangovers, and people purposely ignoring how awesome my shirts truly are.

Our first stop, food.  I live and die by three things; my stomach, my sleep, and... annnnnd we'll say pokemon?  Restaurants exploded out of every nook, cranny, and alley.  We sidled up to a small sushi place where language barriers precluded choices... so we chose everything.  All of it was great. Well, almost all of it.  I would suggest staying away from sea urchin, which tastes like salted brine mixed with a bad day whilst oozing down your throat like a muddy slug.

After a few sakes (that doesn't rhyme with rakes, don't be uncultured savages!) we took to exploring the most populated square by pedestrians in the world.  Overwhelming is an understatement.
I thought of challenging the stampede by doing pushups in the center (if I only had a brain!) but I've learned better from certain disney films. Also, from certain drifting films....

Exploring Shibuya (a section of Tokyo) led to checking into our hotel.  A small, overpriced closet.  It's greatest amenity?  The toilet.  IF you are wondering, yes toilets there had seat heaters better than leather interior BMWs.  IF you were even more curious, yes they cheered you on when they sensed movement with cheers like "Excellent job!" and "Hurray for poop!"

The excitment was only beginning, with the much anticipated robot bar on the horizon...