Oh yeah, the army. Almost forgot about that. 2 years, 22 weeks. In basic training during Desert Shield/Storm. For college money and to quit being such an asshole.
My MOS was 88M10: Motor Transport Operator. Driver. I was assigned to a supply company that didn't need a driver so I was the building Repair and Utilization Technician. A maintenance guy. I was a Combat Lifesaver. A step below Combat Medic. And I was Air Assault qualified.
My main duty was as a chauffeur for the 101st Airborne Division DISCOM Command Sergeant Major and sometimes the Commander. My vehicle was a piece of American pride: a HUMVEE. I sat on my ass in an office until someone wanted to go somewhere. When there was a 2 week camping trip, I spent every night in my bed in the barracks. Made a little money on the side by bringing my fellow hero's breakfast from BK. I did some occasional 'driver training' where and other driver and I would head out to find mud and rocks to further hone... just because, honestly. The worst part was battalion runs where the other driver and I had to carry the guidon at the front of the formation. The other guy was a runner. I was not. Not before the army. Not during. Not since. I carried the guidon first, just until I had to drop out because the smell of bacon and eggs from the mess halls made me sick after the previous night's drinking. And I drank a whole bunch. The military turns out many mean, green, fighting, alcoholic, machines