Dining Out, Army Style

When I think of "dining out," I think of picking a restaurant and going there, and then picking my entree out from a nice menu. Around here though, "dining out" means getting dressed up in formal attire and going to the O Club for dinner with a bunch of people your husband (or in some cases, wife, or boy/girlfriend, or whatever) works with. For dinner, you'll eat an entree that you picked out two weeks earlier. We had three options: Chicken Cordon Bleu, Herb Encrusted Steak, and Vegetable Lasagna. First I picked the chicken. The next day I realized that chicken sounded gross, and switched my order to steak. Michael, being vegetarian, picked the lasagna. The cost was $25/plate - which we do realize also includes renting the space and buying supplies, and who knows what else. I'm pretty sure about $2/plate went to the actual food.
Our Dining Out was held this past Friday. We arranged a sitter for the kids - someone they knew well enough to not be freaked out, but not well enough to try to walk all over. We were to arrive in time to "meet and greet" for about an hour. We sat in chairs by the wall and waited for people to come to us. Mainly we sat there looking around for hideous dresses and pointing them out. There were quite a few. There was also a lady wearing the same dress as me. When we got to our tables, I saw that she was one of the group sitting at the head table, and we were right next to it. So there were only 4 people between me and her. But my back was turned to her. Anyway, the meet and greet part was pretty boring. I met lots of people, and don't remember any of the names. There was a bar, and quite a few people were a bit tipsy before going in for dinner. After meeting and greeting for long enough, we had to go through the recieving line and be introducted to the Colonel and his wife. Then dinner. Or, rather, then we got to go into the dining room and stand there until the official party was in and said we could sit. I almost fell down during the blessing. I was hungry, I was in heels, and I'd been standing for quite a while.
Then there was lots of ceremony. Of course they had to bring in the flags. Then we could all sit. Then came the toasts. But before the toasts, the President of the Mess (colonel) asked the VP of the mess (some chick) to taste the wine to ensure that it was palatable. She told him her glass and carafe were empty already, so she'd just have some from the bottle. She chugged a bit, thought for a second, then chugged some more, then replied, "Well, Mr. President, I don't know if its... platable, but its drinkable. And its free." So these tipsy people got a free glass of wine. I got a free glass of water. There was a long list of required toasts.
Next was the Grog Ceremony, during which leaders from all of the smaller units within the larger unit added bottles of vodka, bourbon, and other various alcoholic drinks to the big bowl of punch - followed by boots full of dirt and a cup of sand from Iraq, and finally a big bottle of glue. Because that's just what you want to add to a stomach that already has a few beers and a glass of wine in it.
Next, finally, we were allowed to eat. The salad was okay. As Madame VP stated - "its just salad, you can't screw up salad, sir. lets eat it." I mean, I didn't eat it, but it looked okay. I don't do salad.
Then it was meal time. The chicken cordon bleu was the exact same CCB that you can get for free with a meal card or for a few bucks without one, at the dining facilities all over the base. It didn't look very good. The steak was okay. The herb encrusted stuff must have fallen off, because it was just a steak. They weren't bad, but they certainly weren't herb encrusted. They were huge though. The lasagna though, oh, was that funny. Turns out by "vegetable lasagna" they meant "random noodles topped with some veggie juice and random overcooked veggies" He said he found fettuccini, linguini, and spaghetti noodles. There was brocolli, potatoes, carrots, and probably some cauliflower dumped on top, and they were cooked WAY more than the same assortment that was on my plate. The bread was good and so were my mashed potatoes. One scoop of those was really not enough. What was no so good was the unsweetened tea. This is the south people, dump a bag of sugar in there!
Throughout dinner, the Prez and VP talked about stupid stuff with their microphones, like whether or not people should be punished for breaking rules and what the punishement should be and then carrying out that punishment in the middle of the room for us all to see. Punishments ranged from singing songs to riding a little trike, to crab walking races (and one lady actually did it in her Class A's, which for the ladies is a knee length skirt). We had this long list of rules. I remember one was that we couldn't talk about politics, religion, or rank. Who could talk over all the commotion though? One rule was that no one could leave the dining area without permission. Someone started the evening out by asking for permission for people to use the latrine, but it got turned down. Finally, when we were done eating, a lady asked and I think then it really only got approved because they pointed out that there was a pregnant lady who needed to go.
When everyone finished eating, there was a cake cutting ceremony (chick whacking it with a sword) and then the benediction. And then, we were free to go. And take the wine glasses with us. And go we did. We could stick around and socialize more, but we felt we'd had enough mandatory fun for one night.
We went to get the kids, and I discovered upon picking Mikayla up that I'd sent her to the sitters with no underwear. We're classy around here! I recalled her needing a new pair and she was all out so I tossed a pair from the washer to the dryer then forgot all about it. Luckily, the sitter comes from a family of 8 girls, and says that once one of her sisters got to church and then showed her class that she'd forgotten her panties.
They had a great time - much more fun than we had! And the sitter took a picture for us, which Aaric had to get in on. This pic makes me look oddly misshapen. It looks like there is something wrong with my hips. I don't know why.

So that, my friends, is Dining Out. I think Michael may get to go stag next time.