Sea Story 1 (a continuing series)
I would like to take a moment to lapse from current events into what compatriots of mine would refer to as a "sea story". An appellation not intended as naming a mode or narrative style, but rather a warning. While flipping channels earlier in the week I lit upon NCIS a series spawned from either CIS or JAG (or something acronymed) the issue at hand was aircraft carriers and drugs. All of a sudden the present shook and withdrew, and the past issued forth and swirled into place around me. This is a story of my naive past, not to be confused with my naive present or naive future.
I got down into the line of the aft mess deck for lunch, which I preferred to the forward mess deck which was sort of an ersatz McDonalds. Often one could be in these lines for forty minutes to an hour, they packed a lot of people into the USS Ranger (CV 61). The line moved at a predictable velocity once you got into it, so you could assess the trouble you were in by how far down the passage and how many ladders up you found the line. I remember being ahead of a group of ships company ratings, older than me, engaged in a animated discussion. Until they noticed I was listening in, then they bolted. Usually if people where going blow out of the line they did so in the first ten minutes, at that point we were within five feet of being able to actually see food. I ate and got back up to the CVIC. Where I told the gang that something odd had happened to me at lunch - 'a bunch of guys were behind me talking about how someone they knew had a locker full of some stuff - which I called what they had called it - on the fifth deck.' I said this as I was looking back to the work I was doing before lunch. I jabbered on some more then looked up and was confused for a moment. In a compartment that had had about seven people in it suddenly they where gone vanished. Only two were left, one of those who was still listening and asking questions laughed nervously (which he did from time to time anyway) backing up off his chair, mumbled he had someplace to go and he was out the hatch too. I was left, feeling and looking very puzzled, with only Mark (Edmunds) who was also from Heavy 7, our actual unit. "Where did everybody go?, I said.
"Your fault, he replied.
"My Fault", I said, "How is it 'my fault'?"
"Coming in here and telling that story."
"But its true", I protested.
"I'm sure it is" said Mark as he patiently lettered his frisket, "so were they."
Ah! I exclaimed trying to look like I understood, "Hey Mark, clear something up for me,
What is Crystal Meth anyway."
4:29:57 PM  ;;
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