The 5:30 am boot camp latrine situation

The latrine at 0530 is a goddamn jungle: thick, humid air that hits you like a wet towel the second you push through the door. Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, floor already slick with water and bare feet. Smell slams into you first: piss, shit, cheap soap, and that unmistakable sour-sweet funk of twenty dudes who just rolled out of racks after sweating through the night. It’s rank. It’s…