The day after we pulled back in off of POM cert, we started to get ready for deployment, called Loadout.  October 22 was the first day of Loadout and we welcomed some very special guests.  Some San Francisco 49er cheerleaders and the rock band Journey came down to take a tour of the boat.  I spent this whole day smoking cigarettes at the smoke pad.  Not a whole lot of work got done that day

On October 27th, 2004 I was awarded my Dolphins.  It would have been a sweet day, but I got them at the same time as like 10 other people, including Doc (the corpsman who didn’t know what ingrown pubes look like).  Also, it was a Wednesday, my duty day, so I could go out and get hammered that night to celebrate with all the other guys that  got their Dolphins.  In fact, immediately after the ceremony I had to go down to the engineroom and stand SRW watch.

A side note, it was Dallas’ birthday.


Wednesday November 3rd, George W. Bush was elected to another 4 years  in office.  I think I voted for him because I wanted the raises to keep coming.

We were about to leave for our Western Pacific deployment, or WestPac on Saturday, so Friday night, naturally, me and a few guys went out to the bars one last time.  I was with Pastry, Moss and a couple other dudes and we decided to go to this place called Bedroq.  It was known as kind of a locals only type of place, a little dodgy at best.  But it was popular among us sailors because it had cheap drinks and there weren’t a lot of other sailors there.

We were shooting pool in the upstairs portion of the bar, and there was this local guy who was fucked up on something.  I could tell that it was more that just booze.  He was obviously on Ice (Hawaiian for meth).  He shoved me in the back a couple times.  I just walked away.  He shoved Moss, and he turned and said something to the guy.  Moss was not a small guy, pretty ripped, he worked out.  The ice-head goes and sets his beer down.  I was standing about 20 feet away, by myself for some reason.  I wasn’t getting a good vibe from this meth head, or the place in general.  Meth-head rolls up behind Moss and sucker punches him in the back of the head or the eye, I can’t remember.  Moss goes down.  The guy then rolls over to Pastry and sucker punches him in the eye, too.  Pastry goes down.  The guy turns to come after me, but I’m 20 feet away.  “What!?  You want some too!!”  Ice-head’s buddy finally realizes what is going on and grabs him and they both go darting down the stairs and out the bar.

One of the guys working at Bedroq that night heard all of the commotion, or someone went down and told him to call the cops.  He comes up and starts asking who did this?  Where’s he go?  What’s he look like etc.  We told him about the meth head, and the bartender guy just starts laughing.  “That dipshit just filled out an application this afternoon!  We’ve got all of his information right here.”  Nice, right.  We’re going to nail this guy to the wall.  The cops show up and we all start giving our witness statements and accounts of what we saw.  The cops start telling us the process of pressing charges, and it was then that we remembered that we were all leaving on deployment the next day.  Dammit.  The meth-head got away with beating on some hoalies (Hawaiian slang for white folks) this time.  He’ll get his.

The next day, Sat Nov 6th, we left PH on deployment.  I had checked out of the barracks, for a few days I was living in the same hotel that me and SeattleGirl partied in.  I made arrangements for my car, I gave me keys to my pal Cranky because he was staying behind for a 4 month augment (which is the greatest deal ever, augment.  More on this later.) Moss and/or Pastry sporting fresh shiners for the next couple of days.  The black eyes were still visible when we got to Guam a week or so later.  Thanks for the sendoff you meth-head asshole.

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After crossing over the international date line for the first time on 9 Nov, we were steaming for Guam.  I heard so many guys bitch about Guam, saying it’s a shit-hole, etc.  So I wasn’t really looking forward to it.  Plus, it’s a U.S. territory so it was not really that exotic, but I heard that they take American money and there was a ton of strip clubs.  I thought I was going to join the Navy and see the world.  My first two stops were Victoria, Canada and Guam, U.S.A.  What a crock!

We moored in Guam on 15 Nov and unloaded the DDS.  The work week was fairly uneventful, I had duty on Thursday, so Friday night was my night to get stupid.  This also meant that I didn’t have duty again until Monday.  Awesome.  Friday afternoon I caught a ride down to Tumon and started looking for a hotel.  I don’t know why, but I decided on the Hilton, the best hotel on the island.  I think I just wanted to get away from everyone else.  Guam turned out to be okay, tropical… hot!  Not the shit-hole that I had been told about.

That night my party buddy was PeeWee.  That wasn’t my liberty buddy, whom I got separated from somehow.  You see, when you sign out on liberty, you have to have a liberty buddy.  People were giving me shit on the duty van because I didn’t have one.  I was kind of scared that I was going to be in trouble, but it felt good to be out on my own.  Anyways, I met up with PeeWee and I gave him a spare room key because I had a double and only needed one bed obviously.

That night we hit all the strip clubs and I got completely obliterated.  I remember being at the club, G-Spot and I was too shit-housed to function so I decided to leave and head back to my hotel room to crash.  I was walking down the road towards my hotel, which was a really long ways down the road.  I was trying to hail a cab, none in sight.  It was like all the cabbies in Guam go home after 10 pm.  But one car did pull over.  It was a tiny yellow Yugo looking deal.  The driver was a manish looking chick, who was nice and brought me the 2 minute drive to the Hilton, which would have been like 20 minute walk.  When we go to the parking lot, she throws out there that she wanted to give me head.  I was so shitfaced, I was like, “Hell yeah.  Sure!”  She parked at a secluded part of the parking lot and commenced the slobbing.  When I finished, she opened her door and spat the contents of her mouth out onto the ground.  I was like, “Well, I gotta go.”  Whore:  “Hey, you wouldn’t have a couple of bucks you could spare would ya?”  Me:  (reaching into my pocket) “Yeah, here you go.”  I took out the remaining 17 dollars that I had in my pocket and threw it on the passenger seat.

Here’s the kicker.  When you’re that wasted, things happen on a delay, including but not limited to your realizations of things.  While I was stumbling back up to my room (I have no idea how I found it, I was on autopilot I guess) I realized that I had just gotten a BJ from a tranny!  I had also realized that I didn’t notice it was a  tranny until we were pulling into the hotel parking lot, right be before it propositioned me for a BJ.

I felt disgusted. I thought I was going to puke or cry, or pass out, or pass out while puking and crying.  But the deed was done. I was depressed.  I just sat there at the desk in my room staring at my contorted face in the mirror.  I was thinking, “This is your first port call in Pac, and you pull this shit?!”

Just then, PeeWee comes storming through the door.  “Where the hell did you go, man?!”  Me: “I came back here, dude.”  PeeWee: “Yeah, I see that, a-hole.  How’d you get here?”  Time to lie.  I didn’t want to tell him the story, I was too ashamed.  I told him that I walked, and then asked him how he had gotten back so fast.  I mean, my sense of time was a little fucked up but, it seemed like I had just gotten through the door and sat down when he got there.  Maybe it was enough time for him to hoof it from the club, but who knows.  Did he get rise from the tranny, too?  Did she suck his dick?  Was he able to refuse its advances?  Did it tell PeeWee about me?  I have a feeling that PeeWee knew, and was just waiting for me to tell him the story.  Well, here it is PeeWee.  The ball’s in your court now, ‘fess up.  How’d you get back to the hotel that night??

The next night, Saturday we hit some more strip clubs.  PeeWee was digging this stripper chick, Jolene, at the one strip club.  I wanted to annoy her so when I noticed that she had these sweat-bands on her wrists that had the word “FUCK” on it, I immediately wanted one.  They were black with white lettering and I have a picture of me giving the middle finger at a Denny’s wearing it.  I actually wore it underway a couple of times, no one noticed, or cared.  Those that noticed it wanted it as bad as I did.  I asked Jolene for it nicely at first, and then demanded one.  Jolene didn’t break.  I then realized that she was a stripper and would do anything for money so I offered her like 40 bucks for it, she wanted 60 so we settled on 50 bucks.  I paid that bitch 50 bucks for a damn wrist band with the word FUCK on it.  I no longer have it.  I have no idea what happened to it.  I know that I had it for a long time and it got super-worn out though.


Published by dbradyf

Gentleman. Scholar.

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