A NIGHT IN THE BRIG
Once again “romance is puzzling” is a topic of conversation that brings forth memories of an odd eventful night long ago. Self-debasement and frustration seem to go together when fervent relationships explode as an episode of dubious nature is brought to mind. A night spent in a military brig after a boyfriend degraded me and left me to fend for myself in maneuvering home is a case for my long extinguished thoughts on the subject. His thoughtlessness worked in a mysterious way as it taught me the lesson that if one is truly honest in dealing with other folk you can survive just about anything as you will see in my woe begotten tale of misfortune..
…As I began the task of removing my contact lenses from my tear laden eyes in the military brig late that fateful night I suppose the song Love Is Strange must have crossed my mind. Having had to plead with the M.P.’s to let me spend the night in their jail since they wouldn’t escort me back to my hotel was a climatic ending to one of the more bizarre circumstances I have found myself in over the years and there have been quite a few. The night had begun simply enough. I had flown from another state earlier in the day to be hopefully reunited with my flame of a tumultuous five years. He seemed glad to see me but I should have known that with him nothing was ever as it appeared. When he eventually took me to a strip joint I should have sensed something awry but I wanted to be with him through thick and thin so I guess you could say I was naïve, stupid sounds better. Anyway he started telling me in the middle of this morally bankrupt club that he’d never cared for me, etc. By now I’ve had one too many drinks and am a basket case so I ask him to drive me back to the hotel I’m staying at or call me a cab. But no, he insists that I drive him to the military base where he had become soldier of the month then eventually soldier of the year, even though he could see that my eyes were crossed. I stupidly, there’s that word again, accede to his demands and we end up parked in front of the place he lived at on the base. He says I’m free to sleep in the car right there if I’d like but not to get out of it. He leaves and I try to fall asleep but knowing the hotel was less than a mile away didn’t help things so I start the car and begin to drive down a road I thought I’d been on before. It’s a desolate place I think to myself. No lights, no anything. Suddenly I look in the rearview mirror and see headlights that probably have sirens attached to them bearing down on me. This is when I really start sniveling, coming unglued again before beginning to beg the M.P.s that pull me to the side of the road to find out what this disheveled female is doing on an obviously private road that’s attached to property that’s probably used for war games, to help me.
I don’t think I moved the M.P.s to tears after explaining my tangled story but they were nice to me, probably thankful for the curious interlude on perhaps a dull night for them. They tell me I’ll have to exit the base by myself but if I’m unable to I can spend the night in their empty jail cell. And this is where the moral to my story comes into play. Even though I was a crying, besotted, fool I believe because I was aboveboard in my tale of woe help was available. That no matter how strange it was to be sleeping in a brig of my own volition, the military was like my guardian angel on that memorable eve.
A belated thank you to the guys that helped me even though I have long since come to regard ‘brigs’ and the aforementioned ex-boyfriend as unproductive to my life style
- 0 ratings
