Stoned Barracks Life
Back in the day, before the dawn of mandatory piss tests, the US Navy was quite the frontier. Boot Camp saw 1/3 of our 80-some recruits lost at graduation, due to a wild debauche (as wild as a complete sausage-fest can be) fueled by a couple oz. of skunk & 200 hits of "purple micro-dot" acid.

Things got a little more sane at my training school, although someone really should have warned west-coast me about fireflies before firing me up and pointing me towards home on a quiet summer night. The center of an airbase is not the greatest place to freak out about 'tracers' and 'flashbacks' while stoned off your heels. Also, my roommates slipping me some MDMA was not cool, although synesthesia is pretty cool, temporarily.

However it was my first duty station that truly exposed me to wild roommates. Kenny, Denny, and Tom were all strangers, but Kenny was a local boy with serious connections to dealers. Soon, we were routinely breaking up pounds in our room, and the windows were hazy with smoke most of the time. Needless to say, this didn't pass unnoticed by the Naval Investigative Service, and we were raided.

Fortunately, none of the goods were locked up in our private areas, all of it was in the open. Since none of us would admit to anything, none of us were charged.

However, the next day all four of us moved off base, en masse. The house was in a nice area of town, at least until we moved in. Denny played rock guitar, loud, and our house-warming party resulted in the local cop (singular) coming round for a noise complaint. Cue half the party scrambling out the back door, tossing stashes everywhere on the way. The cop was mainly interested in making sure nobody tried to drive home for a while, he clearly didn't want to process the paperwork on 20+ underage drinkers.

Tom bailed, as did Kenny. Denny and I were stuck with the now very subdued crowd. 1/2 hour later, the knock on the door started another exodus, but it was just Tom, finding his way back home. That cycle continued for a few hours, as the cops never came back, but we were startled a dozen times by partiers stumbling back in.

The next morning, the back toilet was plugged. We found several dozen coke vials, and a perfectly good (well-wrapped) bag of primo stuff. Then we find a bunch of baggies in the back yard, porch, and kitchen closet. Not to mention the three teenagers in Denny's bed (note to youngsters -- learn to play guitar). Too much stuff, so we decided to have another party.

Rinse & repeat, for months on end. Sorry if I wandered off topic, I blame the drugs.
(danalan Pretty good, for an amateur., Sat 28 Feb 2009, 4:45, 3 replies)

ahah god
wish the cops in my area were like that.

God - Creeky - he's a right cunt of a rozzer. He'd fine his own mother if he could find a reason.

Sounds like you had a good time in your days. :D
(Poppet some assembly required., Sat 28 Feb 2009, 5:22, closed)

it was pretty amazing
Way beyond good times. It was consistently interesting.
(danalan Pretty good, for an amateur., Sat 28 Feb 2009, 21:26, closed)

Its insane that you can serve your country while your country wont serve you a beer.
21 drinking age? FFS
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Sat 28 Feb 2009, 14:05, closed)