Platoon Mates

Sometimes I am glad that my NS days are ending in less than a year's time. Because I can't stand living with my platoon mates any longer.

Don't get me wrong. I don't detest them. Okay, I don't detest most of them. The majority of them are nice people whom I can talk to and work with. Can I live with them? I don't think so. They are nice people, without a doubt, but that's about it. There are no more plus points in them. I don't foresee myself keeping in touch with most of them. I don't foresee any of them becoming my closest friends.

They are still nice people, but to me they will remain as acquaintances.

There are a few detestful and despicable people in the platoon. Like the miser one who even attempted to cheat my change for the mahjong money that I lost to him, whom I've featured a few times in my blog (just to let him have a taste of his own medicine of being so petty about little things, of which he has written 5 entries in his journal harping on one particular issue that involves his pen being borrowed for the benefit of the whole platoon but never got returned to him (but then again my case is a serious one involving one's integrity and morals, so it deserves more feature)).

Then we have a worm-eating (literally), prawn shell-consuming (literally!) and chicken bone-devouring (really literally!) freak who suffers from hormonal imbalance, mood swings and probably inferiority complex about his scholastic achievements and weight and thinks that everyone but himself is a loser when in actual fact it's vice versa. Let's call him boy W.

Boy W suffers from depression and hormonal disorder. I'm not being sarcastic. That's in his medical records. I do feel sorry for him sometimes, because I feel that his illnesses are probably the cause of his asshole-like behaviour.

I would say that the only good thing he has done to this platoon is to unify all of us, who came from vastly different family backgrounds, social circles and BMT companies. But in doing so, he harms people too, for his attempt to bond us together involves the creation of a common enemy and the constant perpetuation that this chosen target is threatening, imbecilic or virtually useless. Arguably, he has succeeded, because his strategy did manage to divert our attention from the physically-streneuous and mentally-laborious trainings and ridiculously-high expectations our superiors have on us.

Yet, he constantly creates a new target for everyone, and soon he will be running out of target.

And never did he ever realise that the joke is now on him. His foil has backfired. Now everyone's against him. And it took most of us almost a year to realise that the reason why we have never been able to bond together cohesively was due to the actions one sole person. But better late than never.

You never know what other tricks does he have up in his sleeves. He's like a walking time-bomb, how can you ever cohabit with such person?

Then you realise that you sleep in between probably the two messiest persons on this planet. Sleeping on your left is someone whose nasal problems would wake up from your deepest sleep every single night without fail; on your right is someone whose personal space looks like the exact replica of the Afghan warzone -- footwear peppered all over the place, random plastic bags in an array of colours hovering around, an assortment of clothings strewn all over his bed, and even on the floor, that probably hasn't been mopped for one month already.

Speaking of which, no one in my bunk ever mops the floor. Either they just couldn't be bothered, or they are merely allergic to detergent. I'm always the one mopping the floor. In fact, I'm probably the only one in this platoon truly concern about the cleanliness of our living environment. Perhaps due of that, they don't see a need for them to clean their lodging -- there's an idiot who will do it, so why should I take the initiative? Not that I mind being the idiot (for now, at least), but sometimes I do get exhausted and frustrated too, especially when certain people just can't seem to comprehend the importance and relevance of not moving around and walking across the tiles when they aren't completely dried from my mopping.

Other than that, we still can click quite well, but I know that they are merely acquaintances, for now. I always dread going back to bunk because it means that I have to go through the ordeal of cohabiting with them for another cycle. We probably can work together with much chemistry, but if you want me to live with them again in the same room for university, I wouldn't hesistate to say no. The rest of them probably wouldn't want me to be their roommates again. I mean, who would want to be nagged at again for their untidy habits and their lack in initiatives in helping out with the household chores?