When I first came into the Army, one of the stupidest rules that really bothered the shit outta me was that troops couldn’t walk on any patch of grass anywhere on post. If any part of our boot even touched any piece of grass, some uptight, eagle-eyed, high-ranking sergeant or officer would always spot us. It never failed. These outdoor military watchdogs would call us out and order us to assume the front lean-and-rest position to knock out push-ups until they got tired. Getting caught was very humiliating and intimidating! Luckily, I never got caught.
Granted, I quickly adapted to the rigors of military indoctrination and training, and I vowed to avoid being embarrassed and punished for walking on some damn piece of grass. So when I retired after 22 years of service, the very first thing I wanted to do was to thumb my nose at that insane military rule under which I lived and served for so many years.
Once I got my retirement papers, I couldn’t wait to trample on grass anywhere, anytime on any post. Often even going a bit out of my way, I deliberately found the first patch of grass I saw, and I walked on it over and over and over again like a crazy person. I guess the people whom I noticed looking at me must have thought I had lost my mind, but I didn’t care. At times, I was so close to just laying down on the grass and rolling around on it as a playful puppy would do. But I thought that frolicking on the grass would draw too much negative attention to my strange, rebellious action.
One day, I was at Ramstein Air Base with the intention of visiting the post exchange. After parking my car, I first noticed the fancy brick pathway that leads shoppers from the parking lot to the post exchange entrance door. Did I use it? Oh, HELL NO! On my very own “special mission” like a muthafucking ex-noncommissioned officer, I felt bold enough to break that old Army rule deliberately. I headed over to the area of neatly trimmed grass next to the brick pathway and took in a deep breath before I defiled it. I felt audacious as I trampled across that grassy area to get to the front door of the post exchange. As an Army Retiree, I remember being a straight-laced, by the book noncommissioned officer, but defiance now runs amok within me.
Yes, it has been years since I retired, but when the opportunity arises, I still feel the need to challenge authority about this one stupid rule in a weird, wicked way. Fortunately, there are no idiots around to yell at me to get my ass off some patch of grass! Yeah, the Army had conditioned me long enough! Not sure if I will ever get this ‘grass turf thing’ out of my system. Over time, I have thought that I might need some therapy for this because there is no medication for stupidity. Maybe I might even need to book a session with Dr. Phil.