I am happy to say that I have very few regrets in life. Sure, I am wracked with anxiety and terror and false guilt most (read: all) of the time, but when it comes to regrets, there's really only one, very distinct, regret. Something I cannot change. And here it is.
The Regret of Klutch
I wish that I had signed up for 6 years of military service directly out of High School when I was 17. Any service would do (well, maybe not the merchant marine) as long as there was a special forces component. I would spend 6 years, learn foreign languages, become lithe and limber, absorb the pain, become skilled in stelth movements and emerge as an intelligent well adjusted 23 year old.
Then, I would have moved to Russia (preferably Moscow or Leningrad) and found my way into the Russian "underground,"black market", or what have you. And I would do whatever was asked of me by the Russians, for cash; cold, hard rubles. Unspeakable things. I would gain Russian citizenship and notoriety. I would retire at an early age and open up a speak-easy.