The last two nights I left the office before 2100, to the lament of a couple of the Aussies working with us because I would miss "the chicken dance." Tonight I stayed to this twitching hour: At precisely 2100, a stereo began playing that chicken dance song (you know the one) while everyone chucked nerf bals and other non-harmful ballistics among and between the cubicles in the ballroom where we're set up. It literally rains cats and dogs (and footballs and rubber chickens). Full-bird colonels -- pardon the pun -- are among the more enthusiastic of participants, encouraging their staffs to "let off some steam." After the three-minute long song ran its course, everybody went back to battle stations.
Granted my experience with the army has not been long, but this has got to be one of its weirdest customs.
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