Last Saturday night I headed over to the Flying Saucer at the Triangle and met up with my friends Neil and Stephen. Despite being on antibiotics, and essentially unable to drink any of the many tasty beers they sell there, I was able to enjoy my sodas while chatting with them about a number of things. It was a good, easy time.
At one point a man stopped our waitress and informed her of his wish to send a drink over to the “man in uniform,” a young soldier in full camouflage desert fatigues who sat on one of the sofas by himself, under lamplight, flipping through a book and sipping a pint of beer. He looked so serene sitting there. I wondered how he could concentrate on reading with all the activity swirling around him, until something occurred to me. If he were a combat veteran of one of our two ridiculous wars and not simply an employee stationed at Camp Mabry a couple of miles away, a loud and clamorous peace may be the only kind that makes any sense to one who has seen what this young man is likely to have seen.
No comments:
Post a Comment