What a wasted day. Working on a submarine is cool and all that, but sometimes the people you have to deal with just suck the life out of you. The Stupid Quote of the Day: when someone walked into the crew's dining area, or "mess," they proclaimed confidently, "Wow, this must be the nice place!"

Conversations between the people that work there and the guests run, inevitably, along the same lines every single damned time. If you're in the torpedo room, sitting next to a torpedo, they point at it and ask you "Is this a missle?" It takes every ounce of self control I have to not respond, "Yes, that's why it has propellers." If you're in the crew's mess, it's "Oh, is this where all the guys ate?" Again, I want so badly to say, "No, the tables and benches are exclusively for playing checkers. They ate in their bunks." If you're in one of the engine bays, it's "Are these coffins or something?" If it's the stern room, they point at all the lockers and ask, "Are these lockers?" Or "Is this the morgue?"

For general understanding, I work on board a WWII-era fleet submarine on display in, well, Anywhere U.S.A. You start your tour in the front, and walk back through the ship to the exit. The stairs you use to exit look exactly like the ones you use to enter, and the door at the top of the stairs sports a big red sign that says EXIT. I can't count the number of people who have walked up to me, pointed up the stairs, and asked, "Is that where we go out?" Or entered the last room, and turned right around, telling their children that they have to go back to the front to leave.

I've lost so much faith in humanity that it depresses me. Every once in a while, a child or even a parent will display some genuine interest or spark of intelect, but in 99% of the cases, they come, they see, and they leave without learning one damned thing about the remarkable men who served their country and won their freedom aboard our boat.

Enough bitching. Tak told me to watch South Park this evening, and so I shall.