A Breakfast With Champions

So I found myself barely awake at 0530 this morning, my small room lit only by the light that poured over the wall from the room next to mine. It was my cell phone that woke me on this particular morning, having set my alarm before going to sleep the previous night.

I rolled out of my bed, slowly and deliberately as my bed wobbled about on its two-by-four legs, and my phone screams out the theme from Super Mario Brothers. It would be this morning that I would enjoy a breakfast with the Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, as my friend in the room next to mine took our pictures.

I was looking forward to an awkward and unenjoyable romp through the world of military celebrity. Fortunately, I was pleasantly mistaken. We entered the chow hall, grabbed our breakfasts, and asked to be directed to the appropriate room. Upon our entrance, we noticed a handful of familiar faces and decided to join the small group, making a total of five misfits.

We finished our breakfasts and began discussing our situation, when in walks a Maxim model by the name of Mayra Veronica—a Latino woman who was well endowed on both ends. Followed by her were two men: Wilmer Valderrama and Russell Peters, Fez of That 70s Show and an Indian-Canadian comedian, respectively. Now I had seen these three the previous night, having attended the USO show and been treated to a humorous stand-up act by Mister Peters.

(I would later get an autographed photo and have my picture taken with each of these individuals, but that has nothing to do with today's anecdote.)

My comrade who had accompanied me took this as a cue to start doing his job, and promptly stood up, snapping away with his "weapon of choice." The Vice Chairman—a four-star general—made his way into the room without anyone noticing, which at this moment is beyond my comprehension.

As the event went on, our four celebrities took their seats among the 30 or so soldiers in the room and struck up conversation. Mister Peters decided to grace our table with his presence, but having seen and enjoyed his show the previous night didn't stop me from informing him that he was in my friend's seat and asking if he could relocate. He obliged, and my friend returned shortly after, finding great amusement in the story that he would be told of the event that had just unfolded in his absence.

After the event was over, each soldier was allowed a photo of him/herself with three of our four "stars," and a number of soldiers broke off to have their picture taken with the Vice Chairman. It was about this time that our motley crew decided to do a group photo with the Vice Chairman—so we did.

For the record, this was far from a serious photo. Having accomplished this task, we each shook the Marine General's hand and continued on to our next objective: a group photo with the other three VIPs. I took up a spot, sandwiching myself between Fez and Miss Maxim as the rest of our group filled in around and behind me. Having taken the picture, we shook their hands and proceeded to move out, our morning mission being complete.

Upon return to our camp, I swung into our chow hall and grabbed a cup of coffee before heading back to the office to embrace whatever other tasks may or may not rear their ugly heads—albeit with a smile.

Peace,

Feelgoode