A LITTLE SPICE FROM GINGER : Quantico: Unfounded Fears
Posted on Wednesday, July 23, 2008
URL: http://www.nwanews.com/hl/Lifestyles/25139/
Isn’t it funny how the fear we expend turns out to be useless ? Fruitless worry must be common to man, because no matter how many times my fears are proved to be unnecessary, I always find myself fearing again.
Case in point: last week, I had the opportunity to attend the Youth Education Summit in Washington, D. C., sponsored by the National Rifle Association. While our week was chock-full of tours and activities, one portion of the itinerary loomed ahead: the day at Quantico, a Marine base. The travel packet said only this: bring clothes suitable for running, jumping, and climbing. Gulp. Funny — neither running, jumping, nor climbing seems to fit in with my strong points. I doubted any of the Marines would cut me any slack, however.
My fears were only exacerbated as the week went on. Staff and counselors dropped sly hints about the excessive amounts of physical activity that would be taking place on Friday. I heard rumors of two-and-a-half-mile runs... then of five-mile runs ! I could manage to run for a little while, but if push-ups commenced, I was doomed. One can pretend to run while actually jogging halfheartedly, but a push-up cannot be faked.
We toured all the monuments; we walked through the old halls of the Capitol building; and we circled through the elegant rooms of the White House. We had delivered our speeches and completed our debates. The week sped by, and suddenly it was Friday. We all grimly filled our standard-issue, army-green (or maybe Marine-green ?) canteens to the brim, pulled on sweatpants and matching tan Tshirts and strode onto the bus boldly. Whether it would be running, jumping jacks, or even push-ups, we were determined to accept our fates.
After driving for about an hour, we soon arrived at Quantico. The bus stopped, and we were ordered to march into a tin building. It looked ordinary enough. Everyone filed into a small room at the front of the building. A man stood, waiting, and behind him, the wall was covered in computer screens that looked like security monitors. But what were they surveying ? We squinted at the screens, trying to make sense of the walls and bushes and ladders we could see in the dark.
As it turned out, the ordinarylooking tin building housed an entire night-vision training course.
Two teams of four would be going at the same time, one through each half of the course. There were walls to be scaled, bridges to be balanced on, and tunnels through which to crawl. And of course, our adventure wouldn’t be complete without night-vision goggles, of which there were two-varieties: a singleeye and a double-eye. Everyone strapped them onto our heads with strange-looking harnesses. In the light, we looked odd. But no one dared to call them silly: the Marine in charge informed us that the goggles cost $ 3, 500 to $ 5, 000 each. I felt tense and anxious.
What if I was the one slowing my team down ? What if I couldn’t make it across the monkey bars and ruined our operation ? What if I turned out to be the kid who froze up halfway through and had to be rescued ?
Before I knew it, we had stepped into the dark and the door was shutting behind us. I closed my left eye and peered through my night-vision goggle. My range of vision was small, and everything was green, but my vision was incredibly clear. I put my hand out in front of me, glancing down to check my footing, and then grasped the chain ladder swinging ahead. Thus the adventure began.
The next chain ladder turned out to be broken, so we had to climb down another wooden one.
Crawling through a long tunnel was next. Then we had to swing across monkey bars without touching the floor — it would rumble, simulating a grenade explosion. Not a single member of our party set off the grenade, fortunately. Then came the fun part — a long tunnel, inclined downhill. The Marines wouldn’t call it a “ slide. ” We ran across an open plain, climbed some narrow stairs, and circled through small rooms.
Then it was down a final ladder and we were through. My stomach unclenched. I realized with a start that I had truly enjoyed myself.
As it turns out, we didn’t do any running, and only a few push-ups later that day. When I looked back over my week, I was able to identify “ Quantico Day ” as my favorite.
The thing I had feared the most turned out to be my greatest source of enjoyment.
Perhaps I’ll have actually learned my lesson this time.