Sacred Misfits

Nothing For Lunch

63 Nothing For Lunch k CorporalToby Weydig was lazy.Some people might think of him as a good person or a bad person, but everyone who was acquainted with Corporal Weydig would agree that he was extremely indolent—and very contented. In May of 1970, Toby was discharged from the Army after honorably completing his draft obligation. Although Toby’s two years of military service coincided with some of the bloodiest fighting of the Vietnam War, the closest Corporal Weydig ever got to Southeast Asia were his weekly visits to the Thai restaurant, The Golden Triangle, located about a half-mile beyond the gates of Fort Dix in southern New Jersey. Toby was crazy about the restaurant’s seafood noodle cuisine and the proprietor’s long-legged daughter, Bobbi. Corporal Weydig had spent his entire two year tour of duty at Fort Dix, an infantry training facility that turned out human fodder for the war. As a trainee, Toby was slotted for a platoon in Vietnam until he heard a rumor while working KP in the fort’s huge kitchen facility . A fat and likeable mess sergeant advised Toby that in order to get out of the Army, all one had to do was to pee in bed every night. The overweight cook insisted that a medical discharge would be awarded for chronic bed wetting. The cook may have been telling the truth, or perhaps he enjoyed the thought of headquarters being bombarded with urine stained sheets; Toby Weydig promptly wet his bed for seventeen consecutive days. Not having to get up at night to go to the bathroom certainly appealed to the young recruit. Toby wasn’t offered a discharge. However, he was pulled off infantry orders at the completion of boot camp and assigned to the fort’s vast laundry service. His first sergeant, who truly disliked Toby, once told him that he was promoted to corporal because of his expertise in cleansing out the nocturnal wet-dream emissions Mark Blickley 64 of homesick recruits who refused to swallow their daily allotment of saltpeter tablets. Toby simply smiled at the cruel sarcasm. He shrugged off the first sergeant’s contempt for him, reasoning that it was much easier than having to shrug off shrapnel and jungle fungus. When May 8th arrived, Corporal Toby Weydig became just plain Toby Weydig. Despite his lack of combat experience, Toby noticed that his separation paperwork repeatedly listed the phrase, Vietnam Era Veteran. The words made Toby proud and he remembered a conversation he had with the beautiful Asian waitress, Bobbi. She once expressed admiration and concern for all the young boys who were being filtered through Fort Dix to fight in such a horrible war. Toby, in a rare instance of defensive posturing, drew himself up and looking dead center at the bridge of her nose, stated, “Listen, Bobbi, when the Viet Cong hit Long Island who do you think is going to repel them?” She laughed, and then Toby laughed too, but he didn’t think it was so funny. Toby was happy to leave the military,but was financially depressed. He had saved nothing from his paltry paychecks the past two years. Before boarding a bus that would take him into the New York City Port Authority Bus Terminal on 42nd Street, Toby called his father. “Hello, Pop.” “Toby?” “Yeah.” “How’s it going, son?” “I’m free, Pop. My service to my country is over.” “There’s nothing free here, Toby. You got a job lined up?” “Not yet, Pop. But I’m going to get one as soon as I return.” “Return where?” “I was hoping you and Ma could put me up for a short time while I look for work.” His father grunted into the telephone, placed his hand over the mouthpiece,and shouted something toToby’s mother.AlthoughToby couldn’t make out his mother’s muffled reply, her tone certainly didn’t sound encouraging. “Your mother wants to know how long you’re planning to stay.” “Christ, Pop, I’m just asking for a few days, maybe a week or so until I can find my own place. Gimme a break, will ya?” “Hey, Toby, the only reason why you ended up down at Dix was because you were too lazy to take your SATs and get your ass into college like everyone else. Chasing skirts was more important, right? 65 Your mother...