I don't think I can out do what the smoke boat sailors did. we was more refined... Not to mention our locations were extremely limited (boomers). But I do have one foreign experience that didn't involve paint.
Sometime in the warm months of '77, while stationed aboard SSBN-619 Andrew Jackson, we were refitting out of Dunoon in the Firth of Clyde (I'm not making that up folks). Well some of us 'weaponeers' finally get a chance to hit the beach and we head for a favorite local watering hole (they call them pubs over there, I can't remember the name of the place, only went to it this one time).
For whatever reason, the group of us that went didn't bring much money with us, so we were just gonna have a few beers then head back to the boat for some of the shut eye that we'd been denied for so long. Three of us junior TMs had our own booth facing the door. Well, we were almost done when three young ladies walk in, with NO GUYS hanging on to them.
Testosterone pumps went into overdrive, but quickly slowed when we remembered that we didn't have much money left. We invited them to sit with us and much to our surprise they accepted. We guys bought a couple of rounds, quickly depleting our resorces. When it came time to order another round we sheepishly explained that we only had cab fare back to the pier.
"No problem Yank" says one, "We'll buy a couple".
Now might be a good time to add a little bit of info that the TMC gave us from our first patrol / liberty (the one before this one) out of Holy Loche (Dunoon).
Some of the women want to get out of there and move to the states. They can't for one reason or the other (mostly lack of money, I think). So they entice or seduce the youngsters into wedlock and get to move to the states. But sometimes the little brain disengages the big brain (you know what I mean) and you forget the small details. Well anyway, some of what comes next is a little fuzzy, but here goes.
I remember at least 2 beers with the girls, a beer that was different from the weak cat piss that I had been drinking. One minute, I was sitting next to this young blonde beauty and the next thing I know I'm laying on a blanket on a grassy hill next to a beach somewhere outside of town with the very same young blonde. It's a little breezy, but not cold, we were both half undressed, when I had this sudden urge to fill the Firth.
I walk over towards the water and fell off the damn wall onto the beach (read rocks). I took my leak and had to find a place to climb back up.
After all this I'm starting to really sober up, I realize what almost happened. I walked over to the blanket, picked up my shirt and started walking in the direction of all the bright lights (either the pier or the town). I still had my cab fare so I know wasn't ripped off.
I tried flaggin' a couple of cabbies down, but they wouldn't stop, which was making me even angrier than I already was. I was pretty upset with myself for almost being a hubby / daddy before my time. Eventually, I happened upon a taxi stand.
They look just like some of our bus stops here, glass panels for viewing in and out. A couple of cabs drive by without even slowing, even after seeing me. When the third one drove by, one of the panels jumped right up onto my hand, then another, and another. I was able to ward them off finally and walked down the road to the next stand.
This one was alot friendlier... How I finally got a cab to stop I don't remember.
I was dumped off at the pier (probably for twice the cost, since I only had American and he EXCHANGED it for me, what a nice guy) and only had to get past the bobbies (Scottish police) at the head of the pier. When I held up my hands to be frisked, he noticed the little cut on my hand, well I thought it was little, my hand was all red from dried blood.
Well they held me for the shore patrol (good thing for me they were boat sailors and not the tender guys - need I explain). The bobbies took a statement (for some reason they didn't believe that I was attacked!).
One of the bobbies drove down to the stand and found 3 glass panels broken. I offered to pay, but they said a report would be sent to my submarine with the complete cost of repair. Well, the chief was a little upset, the XO restricted me to the boat for the rest of the refit (we were only there one more day before sea trials).
The locals either never sent a bill or it got paid by someone else. After sea trials, the chief, being the good guy that he was, let me go ashore for some fish 'n chips and some brew at the EM club before we went to sea.
Billy Bob Lary .