First Meeting Michelle—Did Not Go So Well

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 blond 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 the 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.

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.

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.

Well….

Credit: Ethereal Music

To be continued…

Previously

The Marine

Transcribed from a Facebook IM Chat session I recently had with my best (perhaps only) Friend:

Talking to you about Great Mistakes Naval Training Center reminded of a pleasant memory…

Of A Woman—I know—difficult to fathom while listening to all my other ‘Sea-Stories’, but this one is a ‘no-shitter.’ Just trust me.

There were no less than two-thousand sailors stationed at Great Mistakes… but only one Marine: a beautiful young Female Marine.

She stood out!

From the crowd

Easy to spot from half a clik away—she wore camouflaged fatigues.

Now, you can only begin to understand the fascination this young She-Marine held for the rest of us…

(I may need to write more on her Odyssey. She was the quintessential elusive butterfly—two thousand sailors just wanted to get close enough to speak to her—during the six months she was there—I hope she landed well)

To my knowledge, no one ever got close enough to discover her name; we just always called her “The Marine.”

No one, and I mean no ONE, ever accosted her.

For if someone ever had, that moment would have been his last.

For you see, we were all very protective of her.

And she was protected.

Very well protected, even if she didn’t know it.

(Turns out, she finally did–come to know it–thanks to a moron.

Which moron?

I’ll give you three guesses, but you’re only gonna need one)

None of us harbored any vain fantasies regarding her.

She had become everyone’s…

To respect and keep safe & sound & sheltered…

From an always respectful distance.

****

On my very last morning at Great Lakes Naval Training Center, before I was to muster out and ship off to San Diego/Coronado for BUD/s – SEAL training, I found myself in the Chow Hall for one last ‘delicious’ Navy Breakfast.

If memory serves it was about 0630 hrs.

I went through the cow, er.. Chow- Line, grabbed a cuppa Joe, or Fred, or Jane—don’t matter—it all tasted the same.

Walking about, looking for a table, I spied MS Marine, seated all alone, laconically, rather absent mindedly, stirring her scrambled, powdered eggs (a Navy delicacy).

I Thought, ‘What the hell?’

Walked over to her table and asked, “May I join you?”

She looked up and said, “Yes. Yes, of course.”

*****

Now, please allow me to explain something.

At this point in my life, I had already been around the world.

I had seen, loved, and un-loved more women than it may be prudent for me to admit.

But this one, this Lady Marine—actually not much more than a girl—full of hope and promise, was not terribly beautiful, but she had that ‘certain charme’ –en Francais.

Kinda semi-short blonde locks, ‘bout five foot nothin’, wonderful blue eyes, and she smiled at me.

She smiled at me!

****

I took a seat across from her, set my tray down, extended my hand and said,

“My name’s Lance.”

She took my hand, smiled again and said, “My name’s Mandy.”

(Of course it is, I thought—fits my ‘Mandy’ Profile—see my ‘Mandy Post’ for read –more-about-it-info)

“Nice to meet Y’all Mandy”

Yeah, I like to dazzle ‘em with my Texan-ness—My only claim to fame.

I continued, “Mandy, pardon me for being so bold, but I am compelled to ask you something, if I may.”

She picked up her coffee and said, “Sure. Go ahead.”

“First of all, you do realize you are unique here, yes?”

“Not sure I get your meaning,” she replied.  “I am not the only female stationed here.”

“This is true Mandy, but you are the only Female Marine stationed here.”

“You said you had a question?”

“Uh, yes…” (I could tell ‘The Corps’ had already installed into her a very good, state-of-the-art, ‘Bullshit Detector’—and little patience for doe-eyed Sailors)

“Uh…yeah. I… just, it seems… uh, it seems you are a bit ‘down’. Why?”

She looked me dead in my eyes, and as any good, steely-eyed Marine would, with nothing to fear said,

“You said I was unique here. I concur. I am. I am ‘unique’ in the fact that none of the men ever talk to me here—for six months—I am a normal girl. Nothing wrong with me. I see the sailors talking to all the female Navy Corpsmen Students. Laughing, carrying on. Yet I am left alone. Why?”

This is when I realized that by worshiping this young girl from the distances, we had done her an unkindness, or worse.

I tried, poorly, to explain how all that had happened.

She glared at me, briefly. Then I caught a trace of tears in her eyes.

She picked up her coffee once again, took a sip, set it down, abruptly stood up, grabbed her tray and said,

“Thank you for telling me Lance, but you should’ve told me months ago. Good luck with your Naval career. Oh, and by the way, I noticed you many times. You seemed to be a leader, with some maturity. I often wondered if you would ever come and speak to me. Guess you were never in a hurry to do so.”

I stared at her back as she was walking away.

And I was suddenly saddened.

We, all of us, had done this wonderful young woman a horrible disservice.

To this day, I still remember her lovely face and her brief smile at me.

And the way she carried herself so well.

And her piercing parting words as she disappeared forever,

Except from my memory.

*****

There must be a lesson somewhere to be learned here.

******

This could’ve been my fulfilled vain fantasy.

With Mandy-the-Marine

If I had just opened my eyes.

For a moment.

***********

Doesn’t really fit my narrative.

But it could.

If we had hooked up.

****

Flash forward ten years:

She still young at heart and still a Marine.

Me, older, not still a Sailor. And boring to her.

**********************

Addendum, final thoughts,

and…

Bonus ‘Added Value’:

First, I love MY Country.

Second, I was honored to Serve My Country

Third, Even though Marines & Sailors mix like oil and water, there is a mutual respect shared there.

Fourth, I never let any Marine I ever met forget that the USMC ‘works’ for the U.S. Navy.

(Got my ass kicked more than a few times for relating that paralyzed fact)

Go Navy!

Beat Army!

“Hey Jarhead! Fetch me a water!

With true Marine efficiency, I got three, count ’em, three bottles of water immediately bounced off my dome ever’ time I said that.

(And from three different directions!)

But, I’d keep sayin’ that!

Mandy’s of the World: Steer Clear of Lance Marcom! (Trust Me On This Ladies)

Typical, Representative of The ‘Mandy’ Species

(In My Humble Experience Anyway)

It has been my life’s experience that ALL women named ‘Mandy’ are good and decent people:

Sweet and kind–if only just a little too innocent and trusting.

But without that, that innocence, they would be named ‘Bertha’ or ‘Helga’ or ‘Broomhilda’

And they would not be ‘Mandys.’

***** 

(I have known a lot of Mandy’s. So Y’all can take this one to the bank)

I receive daily via email, updates from my bank.

Got one late yesterday informing me my balance was $666 and change.

My first thought was: Old Uncle Joe (He’s a-movin’ kinda slow Biden)

had sent me an advance on my WuFlu assistance.

I had not made a deposit.

Someone must have.

But Soft!

Wait!

This is a Joke, Right?

Everyone who knows me, knows I am an atheist:

NOT A SATANIST.

Six-Six-Six?!

Mark of The Beast!

It was a funny joke on me, and I do have a sense o’ humor.

But just to be certain, I called my Institution.

(Not the one I had escaped from: The Financial One)

******

Got Mandy, who informed me my balance was closer to sixty-sixty cents than it was to $600. Glad I called, because I was about to go on a spending spree, not unlike our government.

Yes! I just had a recent encounter with a new-to-me ‘Mandy.’

It was a professional—not the oldest profession…

(Get your mind out of the gutter, but a professional—A bona-fide Professional Encounter.

And Strangely enough, she works at my bank and I needed her assistance for that–nothing more.

She did her best to help me fix ‘My Banking Problem’ but she could not, despite all her best efforts.

During several telephone conversations.

Seems having no money is something even the Best ‘Mandy’ cannot fix. No matter how sincerely she tried.

*****

I cannot help it if ‘Looking Glass’ screwed up the Title/Lyrics.

But they only fukked up one letter.

(Albeit, The Most Important One)

I emailed them, requesting they re-do the song–

Fix it.

Their response is not fit to print.

There are some things even I will not repeat.

But I can give a subtle hint:

It involved suggestions of where I could stick certain industrial objects into my anatomy.

They even offered to help.

(I declined)

Windows Are Not Impediments in My World:

Merely Distractions.

How did I get so drunk so fast?

I only had sixteen glasses of wine in twelve minutes!

Scuze for a moment.

Bill Gates is on CNN.

I have to remove a shoe, so that I might puke into it.

BRB!

OK.

I tried and tried and I tried!

To get through this CNN interview with

Bill Gates.

Could not take any more!

Picked up my TV and threw it out the window.

(It, the window, was not open)

It is open now…

I hear sirens in the distance.

Growing louder, and louder!

Ooops!

“And you can’t find your waitress with a Geiger Counter.”

Been there.

Too many times…

The computer has been Drinking.

Not me!

Vid Credit: MasterBiblicalMemory

Genius!

**********

I only Drop This In Because I like It!

This Would Not Be A Proper TT&H Post W/O Some Joni!

(And I Love Joni!)

Y’all Know That!

.

“What you don’t know about women is a lot.”

–Rose Castorini (Olympia Dukakis)

In This Vid Clip, You Will Discover Lance.

Video Cred: Ted Reinert

Lance loves women;

He just cannot help Himself.

He does not understand them.

Therein lies that magic…

“Moonlight in a Martini.”

(Volumn is fukked. Crank it up!)

Lance Romance.

Added Value:

“Breaks Your Heart Just Lookin’ At Her.”

Snakes and Ladders

–Joni

(If you do not listen carefully to the song… I dropped it in For A Really, Really, Really Good Reason)

(Figure it out–If You Can)

I am flying SOLO NOW!

WISH ME LUCK!

https://texantales.com/2021/02/26/farewell-forevermore-to-my-best-ever-friend-my-abusive-muse-i-am-sad-but-also-happy/

“He Gave up Happy Hour For Her.”

Joni/Muse!

Musing…

The Joke Is On Me (And On You–For Even Being Here) Broadcast News

Facebook Post:
Good morning!
I am feeling somewhat “normal” today.
Trying to stay two steps ahead of the neck pain.
Taking lots of Ibuprofen and booze.
Put MS Muse Out of my Misery.
But I miss her already.
I just may have a life after all.
Or not.
“O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
No more of that.”
—King Lear, Act 3, Scene 4
Too heavy?
Fuck with me?
You’ll get what you fucking deserve.
Love,
Lance…
The NSA Are on Their Way!

“Hey! Hey! NSA! On The Way!
(Ditto the Local Cops!)
“Surround the House!”
“Madman Inside!”
“Be careful Boys!”
“Let’s Take Him Down…”
“But Quietly.”
“No Muss. No Fuss.”

*****

Do not Fuck with Me!

I will not Hesitate to Empty a Clip Into Your Dome.

MS Muse– Miss Misery:

Feel Free To Conduct A Search

For ‘Abusive Muse.’

There you may find happiness.

******

BONUS MATERIAL BELOW

Crit-After-My-Own-Heart-Drinker-Man!

If you do not watch this, or appreciate this…

Your Loss