THE VA: THE NATION’S NUMBER ONE WAITING ROOM

Welcome to the VA Hospital, a place where time stands still, calendars lose all meaning, and "service-connected" means waiting six hours just to be told your appointment was canceled three weeks ago. The VA is a monument to bureaucratic endurance. If you entered this facility with a slight limp, congratulations by the time you see a doctor, you’ll have qualified for a senior discount and a motorized scooter.

The journey begins in the parking lot as you circle the asphalt for nearly thirty minutes looking for an open parking space. When you finally find one, it will be miles away in an auxiliary lot.

As you take the long walk towards the entrance, you'll feel the elements beating down on you. This is exactly why we engineered the VETS1775 Hoodie. Built from tactical-grade fabrics, it is specifically designed to keep your core temperature stable during the arctic draft of the VA main lobby, and it's durable enough to survive years of friction against the waiting room wall. If you’re going to be delayed, you might as well look highly uncooperative while doing it.

Once inside, you encounter the obstacle course: the floor plan. The layout of the VA architecture was clearly designed by a maze technician. To get from the main entrance to radiology, you must navigate a half mile of identical beige hallways, make a sharp left past a vending machine that sells expired Doritos, and take an elevator that smells like burning hair.

Once you get to where you’re supposed to be the fun starts because now you are face to face with the nurse at the desk. Armed with a clipboard and computer she will review your file with the urgency of a snail on a coffee break. You will explain your agonizing joint pain, and with a smile she will offer you a government issued generic ibuprofen.

Finally, you are sent to the secondary waiting area. This is where hope goes to die. The chairs are constructed from a mysteriously hard plastic designed to actively induce back pain. The only reading material is a stack of Guns and Ammo magazines from the Reagan administration and a single pamphlet on managing your stress while filing an appeal.

Hours bleed into days. You watch men who arrived with full heads of hair slowly go grey and bald right before your eyes. Families have been known to raise entire generations of children within the confines of waiting lounges.

Before you completely lose your shit and try to field-strip the lobby water fountain, you need a coping mechanism. Head over to our VETS1775 Graphic Tee’s and grab a shirt that lets everyone in the lobby know exactly how you feel without you having to open your mouth. It pairs perfectly with an aggressive stare and an impending sense of administrative doom.

When your name is finally called usually right as the staff announces they are closing for lunch you will stand up, pop your lower back, and march into that exam room like a soldier ready for a field op. You didn't survive the military just to be defeated by a clipboard. Stand tall, embrace the suck, and make sure your civilian wrappers are properly authorized.