IGX

When the University Police were giving me a ride home from the ER, they said to me: you were found shirtless in a cowboy hat in front of a Girl's dorm room. What did you do last night?

I told him that all I remembered was getting a ride back to the dorm on some chick's motorcycle. And to this day, that is all I remember, and that's only in vague foggy bits. Apparently, though, I was passed out in front of room 359B. I lived in 359D. The motorcycle chick must have misunderstood.

Quit drinking on my 35th birthday, in 1984.

My friends and relatives have some amazing stories to tell about my drinking.

Like when my son asked me if I ever smoked dope, I told him, I don't remember.

I vaguely remember some involved Hong Kong, Christmas of '68 on R&R. Do remember sailors telling war stories in a bar, a big fight and the Hong Kong police chasing me. Woke up under a bridge the next morning. It appears I spent some time that night in the water.

Only two of mine involve the back seats of police cars, but several include campus security. One of those, the Dean. Did you know that if your college has a bar, they frown on you starting a brawl inside of it?
At least one drinking story includes cocaine, an after hours and a strange woman. Don't get too excited EZ, that's not the kind of strange woman I mean.
There was the time I rode the F train to Coney Island twice (I think) in the same night.
And the morning a Mexican coworker said, "Hey man, I'm Spanish and even I don't belong here", just before we literally back pedaled out the door.
There were also a few mornings when I woke up really, really wishing there had been a blackout.

On the return trip from Iraq, my ship and one other stopped in Australia for liberty. We got off the ship at noon and I was blind drunk from whiskey shots by 4pm. At around six, I was dancing with this chick in a bar and some Marine from the other ship tried to cut in. I boxed him out. A minute later someone tapped my shoulder. When I turned around, I took a blast to the face. The next thing I know, four of my pals are pulling me out of the bar. They are all pissed. According to them, after I got hit, I staggered, executed a perfect Penn State double leg, and kneeled on the kid who sucker punched me while applying numerous head butts to his nose. When his friends tried to jump me, my buddies had to jump in. When they tried to pull me off, I fought them.

They put me in a cab, and told the driver to take me to "the ship." Cabbie took me to the wrong ship, but I didn't know it. When the Marine Officer of the Day, bedecked in his service uniform instead of being out on the town, refused my admittance, I punched him in the face and ran off. That will come up again later.

Apparently I was wandering through town, trying to find something. At some point I mouthed off to two guys in khaki shirts and shorts. They were cops, and in retrospect, probably all stars on the police rugby league. They didn't like my cheeky attitude. They beat the fuck out of me in an alley after they ziptied me, but were nice enough to uncuff me and let me go instead of arresting me. Still wasted I found a beach, dug a shallow fighting hole and slept in it. I think maybe I was hiding from the rugby-cops. Somehow I made it back on and off my ship with road rash on my face,and two black eyes and no one said a thing.

The next day after several corpsman-provided IV bags, I was out again and in a casino. There was a guy dressed like a nerd (colored shirt, braided belt, boat shoes, the Lt off duty uniform) mean-mugging the shit out of me. He marched up to me and asked me what I was doing. At this point I had no idea about the OOD incident. I told the obvious officer that I was playing blackjack. He filled me in on how I had punched him in the face the night before, and ordered me back to my ship. Whoops.

When I got back there was a very displeased 1stSgt waiting for me. I did not leave the ship again until we reached the States.

I stick to beer now. Too many whiskey and tequila stories that are a variant of that one.