Connecticut: Part Three

For the entire story, click the Connecticut topic at the end of this post, in the sidebar to your right, or just click here.

Lynda and I didn't hook up anymore that holiday season and Connecticut returned a week later.  That's when the tension in our room escalated.

He worked day shift in the Commander's office and I worked night shift on the flight line.  That should be the perfect schedule for roommates to never see each other.  I'd go to a college class usually around noon and then hit the gym for a couple hours before meeting my buddies at the chow hall.  From there we'd go to work until midnight or later.  After work we'd hit the gym again before going back to the barracks.  This means that I'd get in between three and four in the morning and go right to bed.  I was usually as quiet as I could be in order not to disturb Connecticut or anyone else working a different shift - it's the only way to get along when you're living with dozens of people in semi-open living bays. 

Connecticut's alarm went off at six AM.  Then again at six-ten.  Then at six-twenty.  At six-thirty he'd get out of bed.  He loved listening to music while in the shower, so he'd turn his stereo on as he left the room.  Yes, he'd have to leave the room and go two doors down to the community shower room.  This meant that his stereo was on loud enough for him to hear it down the hallway and over the sound of running water.  He'd play the same tape every morning.

I wear my sunglasses at night
So I can so I can
Forget my name while you collect your claim

And I wear my sunglasses at night
So I can so I can
See the light that's right before my eyes

Cory Hart's Never Surrender.  I still hate every fucking song on that album. 

Other guys complained and yelled at him, but he worked with the Commander and the First Sergeant loved him so there wasn't anything going to be done about his stereo.  For thirty minutes until he was done prettying up, I'd just lie there with my pillow over my head.

One time I tried to tell him to turn it off, but he looked at me with glowering eyes and said, "you stole my girlfriend, fuckface." 

I tried to explain that he'd broken up with her and that I wasn't seeing her anymore, but his answer was typically chauvinistic.  "I don't want the whore after you've been in her."

I called her and talked to her a couple times, but despite the one night we spent together she wasn't that into me and I was okay with that. 

It was obvious to everyone that this situation wasn't going anywhere, but when I asked for a reassignment I was turned down because as the lower ranking roommate it wasn't my choice to change.  Connecticut,  I suppose, thought he had the power to torment me - to get me back for destroying his relationship with Lynda.  And so it went.  And so it was.

Until the night of the Superbowl.

New England was playing the Bears and Connecticut was the loudest football fan you've ever seen.  He came into the day room decked out in Patriots gear and talking his team up like there had never been a better squad.  He took every bet offered and since the room seemed to be full of Bears fans he was soon into the action for over five hundred dollars.  I didn't get involved in that because things were already too tense between us. 

Right after the game began, his mood dropped.  By half-time the outcome wasn't in doubt and by the end he was actually in tears over the destruction of his beloved football team.  Angry, he went to bed promising to pay off his debts after payday. 

We went to midnight chow and then to play some basketball as it was our night off, but our body's had become accustomed to our night-shift schedule.  When I returned to the room he screamed at me, "Be quiet asshole, I'm trying to sleep."  Great, he was confrontational.  I liked him better Passive Aggressive.  I didn't say anything, I just climbed into bed, but that wasn't going to do. 

"I told you to be quiet.  I'm going to report you for insubordination," he yelled. 

"Go ahead, dickhead," I subtly responded.  "Why would I care?"

That sent him into a rage of screaming that was only interrupted when Pete came walking into the room.  "Shut the fuck up, Connecticut."  Pete was so big and intimidating that Connecticut stopped his tirade and I got to sleep.

That morning, however, he outdid himself with the volume of Sunglasses at Night.  I'd had enough, so I got up and turned off the stereo and climbed back in bed.  Shampoo still on his stubbly head, Connecticut came dripping into the room screaming at me again never to touch his precious stereo.  Sure, sure, whatever.  I let it go, determined to get a room reassignment by the weekend. 

But that night at work we talked and talked about it.  Everyone weighed in with their opinions on my asshole roommate and finally a verdict was reached.  It was time to take a stand. 

So, that night when I returned to my room I pulled out my only music source, a cheap little boom box.  It was nothing compared to Connecticut's massive system, but it would do the trick.  I turned it on.

Showing me who was the real man, Connecticut got up and turned on his stereo, drowning out my puny effort. 

I turned mine off.

He turned his off. 

I turned mine on. 

He drowned me out again.

And so it went. 

Finally, incensed he picked my boom box off my locker and made to throw it to the floor.  "Stop, Connecticut.  Put it down."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll kick your ass," I said.  Remembering he was a gang lord in Connecticut didn't change my mind. 

He put my boom box down and stood in front of my bunk and said, "Go ahead and try."

So I swung out of bed, dropped to the floor, and hit him in the face with a fine right jab. 

Follow me here with what happened next.  His nose started bleeding THEN he dropped to the ground holding his face.  Then he crawled across the room to the door and scampered to the hall phone.  "Bastard, you fucking bastard," he was crying as he went.  I didn't stop him.  I didn't really care to chase him down. 

When he got to the phone he dialed a number.  A dozen guys were in the hall by then watching this gangster crawl across the floor holding his bleeding nose.  After a few moments there was an answer at the other end of the line.

"First Sergeant," he said through sobs.  "I've been assaulted."

Next episode includes my first real arrest.

Comments

[mark]

wow, way more patience than even I could have mustered...that punch would have (in my 20's) come a lot sooner.

AND I would have took his money

[a rose is a rose]

first? uh oh

(p.s. not everyone from connecticut is a gatsu piedi by the way. i suspect you know that though)

[CV Rick]

Yes, I know that Rose. I've been to Connecticut and I've met some great people from there. Of course there are plenty of people like Connecticut in every other state as well.

[Cherise]

Jaysus, could this guy be a bigger turd? What a dick. I have to agree with Mark, I would have kicked his ass a lot sooner and possibly daily, you showed incredible restraint.

[Sideon]

I would have dropped the stereo on his head while he slept. You are a saint, CV Rick.

[CV Rick]

I showed no great restraint here, people. In the military, when you hit another G.I., the consequences are daunting. . . .

as y'all will see.

[SML]

Wow, this story just keeps getting better and better. Nice...

[CV Rick]

This episode above us is the one I think to be the transition . . . it gets me from one place to another in the story. I think the story gets better after this and was better before this (of course it had sex and that always makes a story better).