X-Ray… or Xylophone?

My naval career was a magnificent disaster, a slow motion shipwreck sprawled across foreign shores, vast oceans and years measured in hard time. An odyssey of errors that began in a geography worthy of Dante, Recruit Training Command Orlando, where I toiled under the merciless heat of a long brutal summer as well as the constant disdain of my superiors. But it wasn’t until I answered a single question that my blind date with destiny would be sealed: “X-Ray… or Xylophone?”

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