Thirteen years ago Saddam Hussein invaded a little country on it’s South-Eastern border called Kuwait. The year was 1990 and I was eighteen years old. I had graduated from high school that year, and now it was Fall.

I remember that I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do after high school. I hadn’t applied to any colleges. I wasn’t even thinking about college. I just wanted to party and have a good time. Other friends were going to Indiana and Florida and Georgia, Southern California and Fresno for college–but not me. I just got finished with thirteen years of school, the last thing I wanted was to jump right back in. So I did nothing. I didn’t think about it, I didn’t apply anywhere, and I didn’t care.

I had other friends in the same boat as I. Dave and Brian, my 2 closest friends at the time hadn’t applied anywhere either. We were pretty much inseperable back then. We went surfing in Santa Cruz and Half Moon Bay like every other day. We partied every night. All we wanted was a good time. And that’s all I cared about.

But I was eighteen. I was a high school graduate. I was an adult, dammit. What’s with these fucking rules, Dad? What do you mean I have to be home at 1:30am Mom? What do you mean I can’t go out tonight because I went out last night? What a stupid reason. My other friends could stay out all night if they wanted. They didn’t have these stupid rules. I was pissed. I was angry.

All my life I’d fought my parents over freedom. I wanted to do what I wanted to do and that’s all there was to it. If I wanted to go somewhere and my parents said I couldn’t, I found a way to do it anyway. I remember as a kid my Mom telling me I couldn’t cross the street. Do you think I didn’t do that when she wasn’t watching? I remember my Mom telling me that I couldn’t go down to the liquor store while I was out on my paper route. Do you think I didn’t go? I remember my Dad telling me that if I drank ONE more time before my 21st birthday while I lived under his roof, he would kick me out of the house. What do you think I did the VERY next day? My life vs. my parents. It was a never ending battle, and I paid the price.

I spent my entire high school career on-again off-again restriction. I managed to get myself grounded for every one of my birthdays from 12 to 18, and EVERY New Year’s Eve. Usually it was for coming home late. Or drunk, or not being where I was supposed to be. My parents would put me on restriction for a week or two at a time. Then I’d sneak out while on restriction, and get caught, and get another two weeks restriction. When I got off restriction I’d go right back out and fuck up again. You’d think I’d learn, but I didn’t. To me there was nothing to learn. I was going to do what I damn well pleased and that’s all there was to it. I’d lie and try to get away with it. I’d do it behind their backs. It was my life, and I’ll be damned if someone is going to tell me what to do, like a fucking slave or a prisoner. I felt no guilt for these actions, ever.

You know, I can’t believe I got away with everything I did back then. I only got caught for maybe 5% of all the shit I pulled. And that’s surprising considering that my Mom would wait up for me every night when I went out. I hated that. That meant that I had to be somewhat sober when I walked in the door(I was never sober when I came home, ever).

Every time it was the same drill:

Mom: Come over here. Look at me. What’s wrong with your eyes? Where have you been?

Me: Oh, me and Dave and Brian went to see Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. It was OK.

Mom: Why are you slurring your words?

Me: Oh I’m just really tired.

Mom: Come over here. Breathe on me.
(I hated this part)
Mom: You smell like you’ve been drinking.

Me: Oh I was kissing some girl who was drinking a wine cooler.

I hated that crap. The interrogation went on and on and on. Finally she’d let me go to bed. So I usually got away with it. Except for the times I was swaying and didn’t care, or puking on the front lawn, or passed out on the deck.

So most of the time I’d get away with it. I could think of lies lickety split. They weren’t all good, but I always had an answer. And I never violated the number one rule: always, ALWAYS stick to your lies. NEVER back down. No matter what. Even when you’re caught red-handed. If you’re good, and I was, you’ll believe them yourself. All of us guys are pretty good at it. Me, Scott, and Dave. We’ve had years of practice. You see, if you never back down the other person starts to believe you; you start to sway them–no matter how outrageous or how bad the lie is. Wow, this sounds terrible. But it’s true. And hey, it was either lie for some freedom or stay home all the time and never have any fun.

So anyway…

Here it is, November 1990. And I’m fed up. I’m sick and tired of my parents and their fucking rules. I felt like a rat in a cage. I wanted out. I wanted to scream. I just didn’t see any options. At the time I was working at Bronco Billie’s Pizza Palace up behind CSU Hayward. I just didn’t make enough money to move out. I didn’t want to go to college, what was I going to do? I felt helpless.

Then Brian started talking about the Navy.

It’s his fault. I totally blame him. He’s the one that got me into this. Brian’s brother Brad was in the Navy, and Brian started thinking about joining. And Brad had the best stories! All the fun he’d had in Japan, Singapore, Australia, Hawaii… it all sounded so great to a young 18 year old kid. So I started going to see the recruiters with Brian. Hey, guess what, they had fantastic stories too! It sounded like one big party.

This was my ticket to freedom. No more rules from Mom and Dad. I could be an adult. I could make my own choices. I could stay out all night if I wanted to. Just think of all the places I’d see and all the fun I was going to have! Hell yeah! I was hooked. I was sold. I was suckered in. I signed on the dotted line.

That night, November 28th 1990, with the country on the brink of war, I came home late (intentionally). My parents were pissed. They wanted to know where I’d been. I simply said (and I’ll never forget this):

“Mom. Dad. I just joined the Navy. And there is NOTHING you can do about it.”

And I went to my bedroom and shut the door. I was grinning like a fucking idiot. I was so goddamn happy! FINALLY! FREEDOM! I couldn’t sleep that night. Years later I would find out that I wasn’t the only one in that house that couldn’t sleep that night (sorry Mom and Dad, I really was terrible, wasn’t I?).

Several weeks later I was in boot camp, with the USA at war in Iraq.

So that makes me a veteran of Gulf War I. And since yesterday was Veteran’s Day, happy Veteran’s Day to me.