We get down to the little restaurant in the hotel and the segregation of the branches was in full effect. You tried sitting down at the table all the prospective marines were sitting at, you get shot a look as if you had fourteen heads. So myself and the other recruits destined for the navy sit down at our table and eat what could loosely be considered a hamburger. I'm relatively sure it was, although I wasn't actually allowed back into the kitchen to properly give it a good ol Gordon Ramsay style inspection. For all I know, I was eating a car tire.
Anyway, the evening passes with great nervousness. We were set to have a 4am wakeup call to go to the processing station. Which of course meant one thing, watching the ridiculous Tom Green special when he was afflicted with testicular cancer. I don't mean to make light of any serious medical ailment, but the guy was and will always be a jackass.
Four in the morning comes a great deal quicker than any of us likely assumed it would. Some of us likely spent the majority of the evening trying to figure out the mess we got into and if there was any way out. At the time, we weren't aware that you sort of could. However, backing out at the last minute would have precluded any consideration for any government job. Ever. If you backed out that close to leaving for basic, you couldn't get a job at a McDonald's on a military base. That was one of the many prices one would have to pay for backing out so close to actually joining.
The final trip to the processing station was much like the previous one. Very early in the morning, shitloads of paperwork. However this time, after getting prodded by doctors and asked to take an oath we are handed plane tickets, sent to the nearest airport and flown to Chicago to be picked up by the fine folks of Recruit Training Command.
This is where I will leave off. Next time I will likely speak for a moment about the time in between when we landed in Chicago and when the bus came to pick us up to go to basic. Until then, thanks for reading!