STORY OF A FLASHBACK. MY MILI.
1997. Two-thirty in the afternoon. My stomach growls like a pack of lions. My day at school was normal. We are not in full review, and can take the days with some reassurance. Have returned to catch me smoking in services. Have returned to punish, as in each evaluation, if I approve, I must take a seven. Susan still does not listen to me. In short, the usual. Monday, December 13, 2010
Gay Meeting Places At Hyderabad
When you open the mailbox, see the State seal adorning a huge envelope. Addressed me. The letter reads that I join their ranks. That it is time to do the military. My military! I had always heard my grandfather and my father talk about their big days of military service. So horrible it was for the father of Sergio. The banter that had to endure his brother Raul. And my grandfather's words echoing in my head over and over again: "You will go through military peeling potatoes boy questions a lot and obey little. "wisdom of that voice full of experience wrinkled promised me since I was five years military service to look where you looked, it seemed a foretaste of hell.
I went home with backpack hanging from my shoulder, and the certainty that I was going to a new "Gulf War" pulling my guts. My father soon began to say that it was nothing. That one of the best times of his life were the years of mili. Did your opinion of leftovers. And he knew the opinion of a cousin of "Weird," a doorway opposite neighbor. Six years ago in full military service, he was sent to Kuwait in full Gulf War. He returned safe and sound, and I think from then boil it lacks that everyone says. Or the military service of John the Baker, where we had everything that made them the rookies, and "nice people" who were the sergeants.
That evening I ate. I did not see the chapter on "The Wright Stuff." Susan did not even think. That evening just thought in the military. As if he could interpret a trigger during the war. Sleep in a huge room filled with bunk beds and foot odor. Jogging in the rain in January in his underwear at four in the morning. In a floor scrubbing mileage with a tiny toothbrush. In peeling a mountain potato larger than Everest. In fleeing the country. All my thoughts ended in a leak. Preferred to become a fugitive, a part of that military history. So I allied with the silence. I ran home to buy a train ticket for France. There would be English, I suddenly become French, and therefore would no longer be so terrible commitment to my country. I would move to a small town, and known to a French accent very French, and create a huge family.
I was with a ticket to Barcelona, \u200b\u200bonce there he would find a way to reach France. I spent a sleepless night. Try counting sheep, and without knowing how their wool is turned into military uniforms. I gave him a thousand and one turns to my plan. And I understood that silence was my best friend. The less people knew my plan would be more likely to dodge the army.
As day broke, I took the bag and instead of going toward the school, I went straight to the train station. He arrived on time enormous worm English. I got into the car, and recorded with his eyes the last image that would take me into exile in Zaragoza. It was very probable that he could not come back. When the train pulled out, would be officially a deserter. A fugitive. My face would be hanging a poster in all police stations throughout the country, with a "wanted" below. The train pulled out, there was no turning back. I felt a strange mixture of feelings. On one hand I felt free not having to do military service, to choose the reins of my own destiny. And the other was on his way to becoming a genuine fugitive. The worst thing was that I felt like a coward. But the walls were full of courage that one day had the courage to take a train to Barcelona, \u200b\u200bto flee to France forever. This last phrase was a coward who passed a "great hero" in a blink of an eye.
When I was about to be swallowed the last album "The Cure", a hand touched my shoulder. In front of me, "Sebastian." A friend from the neighborhood. Maybe the guy with the biggest mouth on earth. If you had a secret, Sebastian was the last person who should be counted. Sebas was vaunted specialist everything. In twisting the stories to make true works of science fiction. Was my age. Find it at that train made me suspect that he was plotting an escape plan. Just like me.
- How about Sebastian - There was no way to hide. What I wanted to give it, I had those two googly eyes glued to the front.
-hardly knew you. As you now has given all for letting that hair grunge. "Aque going to Barcelona?
"I'll visit a friend .- That is the first thing that popped into my head, and sounded very very wrong.
- A friend?. A friend of what? - Sebas questions began to appear like darts. Each time I was moving closer to the center of the target, and making me feel more and more uncomfortable.
"Nothing, one you do not know. A former teammate of class .- I put all the effort that seemed totally believable farce. But the eyes of bream Sebas became more and larger. Were entertained with great care in my suitcase.
- How many days are you going?
"Three or four .- Sebastian took his Game Boy Pocket, and the melody of tetris silence became owner of the car.
-A suitcase too big for a couple of days .- Sebastian was about to pull the blanket. My plan was in danger.
"Actually I have four things. What happens is that I get the console, and I'm full of video games. How they had rain in Barcelona ...
"Well, I'll pass. Here I have to then catch a train to Girona. I have to swallow the weekend with my father. The pretense of delivering a letter from the military has not cast .- Sebastian had received the letter, and had openly over as he traveled to Girona. His mouth as a mailbox.
"Do not be leaking to get rid of the military ...- ironic laugh I let out half expecting their elusive.
"No, I have no time to worry about that. I am studying two years I have asked for an extension. After those two years is likely to cease to be military obligatoria. "My eyes went to the same diameter as that of Sebastian. I suddenly felt like a real stupid. The imperative with which the letter was worded made me escape logic. I always ask around, and fear made me forget it. Spend a year sleeping on the other side of Spain, as I do race-based man in the rain and scrub floors with toothbrushes, clouded my brain so that I did not see the light of logic or obliquely.
"Sure. I've done-That mismo. sounded totally unrealistic. If my hands were red did not want to think like his face. Sebas So sad, I was giving a lesson in courage.
As I came to Barcelona, \u200b\u200bimmediately took another ticket back to Zaragoza. I lost my savings of the month, a whole day of my valuable life, and once again, I ran out of the little ashamed that I could stay. Of course, I escaped from the military.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment