Blown for Good - Marc Morgan Headley [22]
“Well almost everybody secures at 11:00 p.m. but we get to go early so we can get eight hours sleep to be studentable,” Bill said cheerily, as though we just won some kind of lottery.
“This is where the men’s showers for this floor are,” Bill pointed out as we walked by a set of swinging wood doors that looked as if they had been wet for 30 years.
Holy shit! I am in the army! Communal frickin’ showers for the entire floor!
We came to the room where the Estates Project Force males were housed. No sooner than we walked in the door, several EPFers were already racing towards the showers. Turns out that if you didn’t get in and shower quickly, you would not get one. The rest of the hundreds of crew members that worked at the Complex got off post shortly after we did and the showers, bathrooms, hallways would overflow with people. It was the last place you wanted to be, walking around half naked as the “new guy.” Valuable information to have, I thought, picturing myself walking half naked through all these serious Sea Org member types.
Before I could even crack a smile at the picture in my mind, I was taken to the room where I would be sleeping. It was about 25 feet long by 20 feet wide. It had at least 30 beds in it. Most were stacked at least two or three high. There were no dressers. There were only people’s bags and some personal items next to the bed on the floor or wedged into the bottom springs in the bed above. Yes - springs. These bunk beds must have been 30 years old. There were no mattresses here; these were steel frames with metal squeaky springs and three inch pads with the thinnest sheets and barely thicker blankets. No air conditioners, no heaters. A few oscillating fans that blew in air from outside so that there would be just enough oxygen to support life until morning. Of course, I was the new guy so I got the top bunk on a triple stacker. As much as I was interested in getting more familiar with the room and my new bed, I had to get a shower. I had at least two meals worth of greasy food water soaked into my hands and arms, and no matter how much I washed them off in the kitchen, the smell just stayed with me. I grabbed a towel and my toiletries and headed towards the door.
“Where are you going?” Bill asked.
As the words reached my ears, I thought that either I am the smartest person here or this guy is the dumbest. Could not get enough of those dishes, figured I’d go down and dry a few more for morning, I thought, but answered, “To the showers.” Knowing that the latter would not get half as much of a laugh from the other EPFers, but I did not know these folks and wanted to play it cool.
“Not without sandals, you’re not!” Bill answered back.
“Huh?” I replied, questioning both him and the conversation that was taking place.
“Per the Flag orders from L. Ron Hubbard, you can’t take a shower without your sandals. You need to bring them with you in order to be able to take a shower.” Bill was putting his own set on as he was reciting this.
“No one told me about any sandals, I don’t have any and I need to take a shower,” I state, as if that will be enough to get a shower around this place.
“Well, you should get down to the canteen and get yourself some,” Bill said as he casually left the room towards the showers.
Getting down to the ground floor and back was a good 15 minutes with the slow ass elevators. I didn’t even know where the damn canteen was anyway! I grabbed my towel and headed towards the showers. I will take my chances with the whole sandals rule. I go through the swinging doors and wouldn’t you know it, right on the wall of the shower room was a white sheet of paper that has the sandal rule from L. Ron Hubbard printed out in big letters in quotes! I glanced over at the few showering EPFers, each of them were wearing sandals. You have to be kidding me!
As I was leaving, Bill came out from the wall of crappers and headed towards the showers while pointing to his watch with the “better hurry” look.
What a douche, I thought to myself,