My proudest moment yesterday came when I stole some cereal. That probably doesn’t sound too good, but reserve judgement while I explicate the situation:
Aboard a Coast Guard Cutter, the enlisted men’s meals are paid for and they do not receive a subsitence allowance for food. The officers, however, receive an allowance and are required to pay monthly for the meals they eat. Certain junior officers have decided to take their food money and spend it on other little trinkets (like a brand new BMW). Instead of paying to eat from the galley, they bring massive stores of breakfast cereal with them and consume such cereals three times a day. This practice of cereal stockpiling is a pretty big insult to the food service staff, who work from 4 a.m. until midnight every day, pouring their best work into the crew’s contented mouths.
Last night, one of the cooks who lives in SPO (Senior Petty Officer Berthing, where I live) put a hit* out on one particular junior officer’s cereal. I happened to be sitting across from this officer. All night, SPO-dwellers were walking by him, making cereal comments and trying to snatch the prize from his pocket, where he had secured it from theft. He and I carried on a nice conversation, talking about his wedding plans and other niceties. In fact, I think I was the only person to talk seriously with him for the duration of the meal. As the meal drew near its conclusion, the cereal-stealing-wannabees gathered at the First Class Petty Officer table in the corner. They glowered, cast dark looks in our direction, and passed ill-concealed whispered schemes around the table. Trouble was brewing. I continued the pleasant conversation. When he had finished his cereal, the officer stood up, revealing for a brief second the cereal bag stuffed into the cargo pocket of his cargo pants. The world held its collective breath and time stood still. Visions of betrayal and glory flashed through my head. As if by instinct, my muscles all tensed and propelled me out of my seat. My hand closed on the bag, then time started again. By the time the clock had caught up to the moment, I was across the room with my band of cheering buddies. I turned around just in times to see the betrayed officer’s jaw hit the floor.
It was a moment of glory and silliness, all wrapped into one. I handed the cereal bag back to the officer. Equilibirum was restored, the redness drained slowly from my cheeks, and all was again right with the world. I gave the SPO crew a no-look thumbs-up as I left the room and continued my life.
*I think we’ve been watching too much of Season 1 of the Sopranos!