Yesterday, the police recruits ordered their body armor.
"I got the chest plate that covers all my vital organs," JD announced excitedly when he got home. "Most people only got the ones that cover their heart. They didn't seem to be that educated about body armor."
"You'd think they would have someone there to walk them through it. I mean, it's kind of a big deal," I said, quoting one of my favorite lines from Anchorman.
"Well, the police department only requires us to get Level II armor, but I got Level III," he said. He then listed all the different types of ammo his vest will protect against, including a type that will "shoot through a tree trunk with no problem."
I wanted to throw up.
"This is kind of a morbid conversation for dinner," I said.
"So will you be wearing this at all times?" I asked.
"Yep, all day every day. And my vest only weighs 6 pounds. It didn't even feel like I had anything on! In Afghanistan, my vest weighed 65 pounds with all of the water, ammo, grenades and stuff we had to carry."
He always mentions this kind of stuff so casually, like it's perfectly normal to be walking around with a grenade in your pocket.
"Luckily you won't be carrying grenades around the city," I laughed.