I am not sure what it is about night shifts, but all the stupid shit seems to happen during the sleeping time. Since you, know everyone else is awake. His name was Rocket. He was spunky. He decided to dance near the fuel depot. Because the dance could be so explosive the MPs came to clear all of us aircrew type out.
Bang bang bang. My little Connex house shook as she beat on the door. I open it. Brightside meets the back of my retinas burn slightly. With watering squinty vision the face of a female MP. Tight bun. So tight it looks like her face is ironed. She gives me a story. Rogue rocket at fuel depot you need to go.
I tell her I do not care, I am tired, and I start to shut the door. She puts her body weight into the door. Not something I am expecting. She repeats herself in a more assertive tone. I hate people being authoritative to me when I am half asleep. I tell her. According to the rules and regulations set forth by the First Cavalry Division in order for me to evacuate my room during a rogue rocket emergency that a soldier must first on their reflective belt. Without this reflective belt, we, of course, might be mistaken for the rogue rocket by the explosive ordnance disposal techs. We were safe and secure within our PT belt.
Her face boiled over with anger. Now she screaming. Raining spit. They could use her to put out the fire if the rocket decides to explode. I concede. Fine, fine, I will go. 100° About 9 AM. The minutes ticked by. Stupid shit jokes are passed around. I am a prime contributor to this. Eventually, spit face returns. She tells us the MP gods have decided to spare the souls of the aircrew now that the holy grail was discovered and now the rocket is asleep and harmless. He won’t go out with a bang. There is some of that shit joke.
Sure love the interruption in sleep for a silly reason.