Upon First Meeting Michelle—Did Not Go So Well. And Someone, Anyone, Please Remind Me To Write About The Navy ‘Saturday Scholars’ Program, For Which I Had Volunteered–I Thank You In Advance


How Times Did Change–Thank God!

‘I Volunteered for ‘Saturday Scholars simple because I thought it would look good on my Naval Résumé–And help me get into SEAL Training–Little did I Know… I would meet such a beautiful woman… Un-Foreseen Bonus, Added Value

And Yes, I Know: This is a Photograph of a British Airways Flight Attendant,

But I LIKE It.

So There!


Dateline: Late 1985

Time: 0800 hrs.

Geographical Location: Great Mistakes Naval Training Center—Just south of Chicago.

Venue: A Navy Auditorium

Suspect: One Ricky-Recruit, AKA Marcom

*Slips now into first-person narrative*

I had arrived just a little later than was prudent.

Hence, no seats in the back of the venue.

Searched about. Scanning…

Only open seats were in the front row.


I took myself up-front, found a seat next to a serious-looking blonde she-sailor, decked out in freshly pressed dress blues. AJ-Squared-Away, she was.

Old mil saw: “Never sit up front and never volunteer for nothin.

I had already broken the first rule. I was about to Break The Second


I was in dungarees—not pressed. Certainly not ‘AJ-Squared away’… slightly hung-over, if I am aiming at honest narrative here.

‘Under-Dressed’ does not even come close.

I had plopped down to her starboard.

Risked a look at her.

(I had already lost myself in her eyes)

She sensed my gaze, looked me dead in my eye and said,

“Hi. My name is Michelle. What’s yours?” She said as she extended her hand.

“Lance,” I said back “Nice to Meet Y’all”

“You’re ‘Southern?” She Asked.

“Nope. Texan.”

Was my ‘Brilliant’ Respond. (Moron!)

I shook her hand and was surprised to experience a very firm grip/handshake.

A Naval Officer took to the old, very old wooden podium and began his spiel.

Michelle went Eyes-Front: Intensely paying serious Military Attention.

I did not.

I kept gazing at her…

To the point of being too obvious.

Oh! And BTW, it did not escape me that she was a 3rd Class Petty Officer.

An E-4

(She seriously ‘out-ranked’ me.

And, obvious to me:

Out-Classed me.)

In the Nav, we called them ‘IPO’s

“Instant Petty Officer”

If you Graduate from the ‘Right Navy School,’ you are auto-magically promoted.

I was, my own self, enrolled in such a school, but the successful end game—of MY Graduation—was tenuous at best.

Not my intent to bash Y’all over the head with a not-so-subtle…

But this do serve my narrative.

Serves it well.


I Couldn’t Let My Past Drag me Down,

So I ‘Sailor’d On… Tryin’ to engage her in conversation… Until she, politely asked me to STFU, So That she could hear the ‘Speaker-At-The-Podium.

Wisely, I Shut-The-Fuk-Up

And Later, We ‘Dated, But it didn’t last long.

Because I am a MORON!


Terminally Related:


Perfect’ Song. To ‘Enhance’ My Narrative:

Credit: Ethereal Music

To be continued…


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