Cease Fire! Cease Fire!

Last night was fun. In the military, there is a ceremony called a "Dining In." It is distinguished from a "Dining Out" in that no one from outside the unit (spouses, friends, whatnot) may attend. It is a fairly regimented, formal sort of event. A "Combat" Dining In retains the exclusionary quality and a hint of formal regimentation (regimentation??), while introducing some of the finer parts of Animal House.

Everyone is armed with waterguns, water balloons, and pre-placed mashed potatoes. Most of the "eating" time is off-limits for attacking, but that is loosely enforced, if at all. And, throughout the evening, the "President of the Mess" can sound the "Code Red" which signifies that all bets are off and you better get to shootin'. To cap off this riotous fun...or maybe to just add to it and ensure it continues, is the Grog.

The Grog is a punishment of sorts. If you violate one of the rules of the Mess (clapping your hands instead of pounding the table with your right hand while waving your left, for instance), you may be sent to the Grog. This involves negotiating some sort of obstacle(s) and then...well...drinking. But you can't just drink. There are rules on how to address the issue. They are made to become exceptionally difficult to recall and execute after you've had a few. To be fair, there is also a non-alcoholic version of the Grog, but most opt for the "leaded" variety.

Saundra and I came home drenched. And we got off light. One of the guys I work with looked like he had walked 10 miles through a hurricane. All-in-all, an enjoyable evening.