The Romantic Life of a Sailor

I'll start this story off like every other Navy sea story with the proverbial; "This is a no-shitter!"

My submarine pulled into Hong Kong back in '91 for a week and the first night we all headed out to a neat club called Crossroads. We had been underway for about a month and were ready to get drunk and chase women (have to live up to that submariner stereotype, don't we?)

I got to the bar and edged in between two big bastards and ordered a draft. I started talking with them and found out they were Welsh Sailors. I only remember one of their names, Big Al, because after he told me his name he turned his bottom lip out to show me the "Fuck You" tattoo. They were really plastered and after a few shots of B-52's they returned the favor and insisted on buying us Americans a drink. I never refuse a free one and before I knew it Big Al leans over and yells to the barkeep, "Two shots of Jack Daniels!" I love Jack and cokes but have to be really smashed to drink it straight. I have since then remedied that obstacle.

I protested to Big Al but it didn't matter. The shot was shoved in my hand and he leaned over me and said "Drink it, Yank." Afraid of what would happen if I didn't I tossed it back. It got about 3/4 of the way down my esophagus before making a U-turn. I put my hand over my mouth but it was too late. I spewed the Jack and some of my dinner across the bar and onto the barkeep who returned with Big Al's change. She cussed me and pointed to the bathroom. Big Al picked my up by the collar and walked me the 10 feet to the shitter. He kicks open a stall door and shoves my head into the shitter. "Git to it, mate."

A little more came up and I was fine but embarrassed and pissed off since my last vomitous happened more than 2 years prior. I started to get up off the floor but Big Al put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down. "You're not done yet, mate." I assured him I was but it didn't matter. Being a good shipmate, Big Al pushes me to the side and says, "Here, we'll do it together." He shoves half his hand down his throat and after a few seconds of gagging and a sound I cannot even attempt to describe, he puked into the shitter.

I was so disgusted seeing our puke swirling around in that shitter that I lost it. What was left of my dinner came up in a matter of seconds. I was exhausted and couldn't keep from thinking about what just happened and I started to laugh. Big Al tore off some shit paper and started to wipe my face off. He picked me up and we went back to the bar where my now warm beer (with only two sips taken from it) waited for me. The barkeep gave me a dirty look and threw a nasty rag in front of me and pointed to the puke on the counter. I wiped it up, thanked my new Welsh friends, grabbed my beer and went to the far side of the bar to start hitting on Chinese girls with British accents.

Signed Greg Smith

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