Cheap Tequila, Sambuca, and Hennessy's washed with pints of Guiness draft in a pub with what seemed like half the British Navy and a good portion of the crew of the Kearsarge. Not necessarily a recipe for disaster though. Thanks to Smokie and Alice.
Richie and I were drinking buddies, raised glasses together, usually Gin N Juice, from Gitmo to Greece. We started hanging out together at the Porthole Lounge and Thunder's in Pascagoula. Playing darts and getting hammered on a nightly basis. Two alcoholics away from home and family found solace in each other's company.
Rich and I would hook up as soon as liberty call went down. In whatever port we happened to be in New York City, Torremolinos, Spain, San Juan, Puerto Rico. It made no difference. Our goal was to drink as much as possible, play at trying to find hookers and keeping each other out of trouble. Except it all fell apart in in Malta;. St Andrew's Pub. I may still have the t-shirt. This is where the drunk-alogue starts.
Rich and I were slow getting started. A pint of Guiness, consumed slowly as we waited for the usual crew to find us. The Brits trickled in a few at a time, they were always a hoot to hang with. Not stingy about buying a round and not againest being bought a round in return. To the Brits, Malta was part of home. They had obviously spent much time there, seemed to be on a first name basis with the Irish band setting up and singing along to songs of the Proclaimers, Wreckless Eric. Flogging Molly, Maybe reaching way back for Obla Di, Obla Da and some ballads I was unfamiliar with. One song in particular seemed to appeal to the Brits. All of them knew the hook and sang along. The band cooperated by repeating this song throughout the night. Each time the pub crowd got louder and rowdier.
Living Next Door to Alice, unrequited love, a secret crush, a nice back story and a pub full of drunk sailors. British and Americans asking the question. Who the Fuck Is Alice?. What gives her the right? Leading us on, then breaking our hearts. Everyone of us knew the story, had probably lived it and knew a Sally. Someone there to pick up the pieces. Who had her heart broken in return as we kept trying to find our Alice.
I lost Richie some time after St Andrew's closed for the night. Ended up the night by peeing all over a Maltese cop's car. Got dragged back to the ship by the shore patrol, Went to Captain's mast. Missed the next three port calls. Lost over $4000 in fines and lost salary. The only thing I didn't do was start a bar fight. What a great drunk. As it turned out my last; good thing, I don't think I could survive another.
Tag, I never got torn up in far-flung places, but I could tell some tales. NO, I'm not going to tell many of them, I just COULD. I was nearly 100% dry for decades. Ex drank 24/7 for decades. I was too afraid to let go of the wheel to do any drinking. Who would pilot our ship if I was not at the helm? EXCEPT when we went away for 2 weeks training with the union every year. Something about crossing the threshold at the Hyatt in that northern California city . . . 250 EXTREME union rep types. By night 4 or 5, I'd be accepting invitations from the other women to join them on the table tops in the bar. Do not think suggestive dancing, think go-go girls in cages on Hullabaloo! One night I felt each ankle being grabbed at the same time. I looked down to see Ex's angry face on one side and the angry face of my boss on the other side. "Get down NOW, Limes." Well, you know what that does to a drunk having fun. I stayed married and I stayed employed, but both of them were pretty unhappy with me. Years later, my mother and I were talking about my 50 weeks sober and 2 weeks drunk calendar. Mom had found AA and is one of its success stories after 25 years. I was asserting that I had no issues with alcohol. After all I'd been nearly 100% dry my entire adult life. My mom said, "In my world, we call you a binge drinker." Oh. Yow. I imagine that Hyatt still has a Wanted poster up with my face on it. I was jumping on that table top and punching out ceiling tiles. This anecdote about me is so opposite anything about me that it should serve to remind me, "Girlfriend, drinking is not something you do well at all."
ReplyDeleteThe Navy taught me well starting right after boot camp. At the same time I learned how to be a good weather observer I was learning the ins and outs of drinking games with instructors, Supervisors, guys in the street, and anybody that wanted to hoist one. I got tore-up in far flung places, danced on the bars in Pascagoula, Dallas, Nice, Marseilles and Singapore. Started a bar fight in Pusan, but was mostly dry at home except for a beer after mowing the lawn or when the 9rs were on TV. Shari maybe saw me tore up once. I thought it was okay as long as I was away from home. This drunk in Malta was my last. I went to rehab as part of my amends. Was an AA regular for years but have been dry for 15 years now. So that last drunk was well worth any bad that came out of it plus I had a great time.
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