by Frank Rodgers

I came home on leave with five of my Ranger buddies. My folks lived in Chicago at the time, and my buddies and I went to downtown Chicago to hang out and relax. I called a girl that I'd always liked but never asked out, and she came to meet us.

We all went to a coffee bar called Jitters. The only reason I went there was because they had beer and wine, in addition to coffee and other such things. Plus, I being the dumbass Ranger that I was, I figured all women were into that kind of artsy thing.

All six of us were sitting there, listening to some pseudo-Hootie wannabe strumming his guitar and singing mournfully about some long lost love, drinking and talking, when I realized something that I should have seen long beforehand:

Rangers + Coffee + Beer = Mayhem.

I was enjoying the conversation with the girl, but my buddies were not. They decided to start eating coffee beans by the handful. Being a Ranger, the only thing I can do is follow my buddies, so I start crushing 'em up, putting 'em in my beer, barking out "HOOAH" and slamming the whole thing. Plus, I thought this would impress the girl.

Give me a break, I was 19, of course I was that stupid.

Caffeine overdrive hits, and the next thing you know, I'm outside the shop hanging off the street sign screaming "THE RAIN GOD IS A FUCKING PUSSY!!!" (side note: that's something that was always said when in the field and it was raining. Don't ask me why).

My date is staring open-mouthed at me. I guess she wasn't that impressed.

We decide that it would be more fun to try and rappell off the sides of buildings. I have about 300 feet of rope in my car, so we start tying swiss-seat harnesses, and looking for an anchor.

Then we see a bridge. A fucking bridge.

Oh boy! I'm so fuckin cool, I'm a badass Ranger. Me going over the side of a bridge HAS to impress the girl right? I mean, she'll LOVE me if I swing like a turd from the side of this well-used bridge. Chicks dig scars right?

I'm halfway into tying the rope to the anchor. I am going to show them how to "Aussie Rappel" (go down face-first) and am belaying myself. I turn around to wave good bye, and I notice she's nowhere in sight. She had run back to my car, thinking I was gonna kill myself, and was crying uncontrollably. In my drunken, caffeine-enhanced daze, I decided to go talk to her.

"HeywhatswrongareyouOK, IamfineI'mjustgoingtorappel, itsnotbigdeal-- Idothisallthetime."

She was less than impressed with my drunken manic rapid fire speech, burst into another round of tears, and just wanted to go home.

Later that week we talked, and she admitted that I was a great guy, but I was "way too Army" when I was with my buddies. I spent more time talking to them, and trying to be the badass Ranger, than I did talking to her, the person I was interested in the first place.

After that, I left my buddies at home unless there was a group of broads, and I wasn't interested in any of them.