	We finally reached our destination: hell, or so it seemed. I remember hearing one of the drills saying.
	“Get off my bus”
Then while getting off I saw a really short recruit. She couldn’t have been more than 5 1” struggling with her comically large duffle bags. Sergeant First Class Morgan, a short Native American looking drill sergeat, with his comically large for his size hat, sauntered over to her and said,
	“Lil miss, do you need help with that bag”
She agreed. For a brief moment, I thought that they weren’t really that bad, that they would only push us so far, that they would help us if the load was too much to bear. He grabbed her duffle bag by the straps and spun around a few times and threw it about 20 feet away. Remember when I said I was the most unprepared recruit ever? I did not understand the purpose of him doing that. What does that have to do with working out and shooting guns? 
We made it into our barracks and were greated with Sergeant First Class Stanley. We were sitting on the floor in rows and she was pacing infront of us. She was explaining to us the intricicies of her total control over us. I wasn’t paying much attention, but I was hungry and I was also sleepy. We had been abused for the past two hours, running to and fro getting yelled at, out possessions trown around and what seemed like a thousand push ups, and I was in the mood for a hot shower, a meal, and some well deserved sleep. Since she was so small and annoying, it was pretty easy to drone her out while she droned on. I made the mistake of looking at the clock. Somehow it was only 3pm, which meant, that this day was no where near over. 
Drill Sergeant Cooper walked in, and the mood suddenly changed. He looked amazingly tough. He was about 250 pounds of muscle, black skinned, tall, and wearing sunglasses. I guess it was his MO to find the largest recruit he could and get him in check. Unfortunately for me, that was me. He started with the small talk first.
	“Who the hell are you eyeballing private?” he said
	“Do you like me private, do you think I’m your daddy?” 
“Where are you from private” he screamed
 I screamed at the top of my Lungs “I’m from Queens NY Drill Sergeant”
You know that feeling you get when you say the right thing, but at the same time it’s the worst thing you could have possibly said? This was one of those moments. 
“New York City” he didn’t just say it, it was as if these words had some special meaning to the other drill sergeants. Within a matter of moments I was surrounded by about six or seven drill sergeants yelling and moving in the most crazed fashion.
	“He’s gotta an attitude”, “He thinks he’s tough”, “How many times you been arrested private” “You think you can whop my ass don’t you?” 
