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Stationed in Indianapolis at Ft. Ben Harrison, Falstaff was easy to come by. It was also my beer of choice. At a going away party, the beer flowed like water. I being a pure beer drinker, and not imbibing in any other alcoholic beverages, got quite sloshed when my beer was "mickied" with shots of vodka, unbeknownst to me. It kicked my ass pretty damn hard, and when we walked, (stumbled), back to the barracks that nite, I remember getting my shoes off and going to bed and that was it! Next morning, (a Sunday thankfully), before my peepers were open, I heard music, and the sound of women or girls laughing. I thought it was something on tv. However, when I turned over in bed, I realized I wasn't in bed at all... rather, I was on the porch of the barracks... naked save for a pair of boxer shorts! Evidently the women passing by got quite a kick out of it. My buddies had stuck me out there that evening with a pillow and I apparently slept through the whole thing! Boy... do I miss my Falstaff!!
Signed James
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