In the Army, when we trained in the field—and especially when we deployed overseas for combat operations—we had to put up with a ton of bullshit. There was the frequency with which our uniforms' crotches blew out when performing basic actions like climbing into a Humvee turret, and the yet-to-catch on weight-loss routine of taking a dump in a Porta-Potty in 120-degree Baghdad heat. (Save it for nighttime, it's cooler!) We were up to our eyeballs in dust that clung everywhere. We produced sweat from our shins, which I hadn't thought possible.
All these years later, though, what I can't stop thinking about is the omelet.
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