Wow, this thread fired up the "way-back machine". Willy (that was east of Phoenix for all you youngsters) had the lingerie parties, and when those got shut down due to the encroachment of shoes and wives, we moved across the parking lot to build the "casual bar". ASU and all the great bars and we still drank ourselves cool every Friday night on base (The rest of the week was a different story). For a change of scenery we'd go cross-country to a weekly scheduled parade of O'Club drunkfests. Los Alamitos on Tuesday for the leather skirt girls, Miramar on Wednesday to make the squids look bad, Mather on a JOC night where they bussed the girls in (so it cost me a night in jail, it builds character). I have fond memories of my roommate being strung up the Miramar Flagpole in his underwear - and that was by the OG.
We broke things, stole things, pissed off managers, played crud, dice, darts, shuffleboard, bat-hung, carrier landed, woke up in back yards, closets, under cars, strange rooms, river banks and made girls laugh, cry, etc., but we were the closest, most loyal, fun-loving group of guys you'd ever met. All we had to do was own up to any damage and tell the boss we'd try to be nice the next time - unless he was standing with us telling his boss the same thing.
So now I'm the old man sitting in my squadron bar, (buying a beer for my new Wing CC because he told the AD Wing CC where he could put his reflective belt policy for the UCI - sweet!) making sure my guys do what we can with this place, 'cause it's all we have left.
Sorry, I guess this was a little more of an old guy rant than I expected - Scotch rules.
Gov
