Subic - Part 3

So to play catch-up – protagonist and friend are about to go on an E-ticket ride as the guests of the naughty minister and his lovely and over-sexed daughter.  If at this point your jaw is dropping, then you haven’t read parts one and two.  We will now all wait while you do.  OK – got the picture?  Good – ‘cause here we go ----.

Robin looked like she had been drop-kicked by a mule.  She was also furious.  That she blamed me for this mess was evident.  For about a minute, I actually thought she was going to make a dash for it and run screaming into the night.  Me?  I took in the information, adjusted my thinking to compensate, and decided to go with the flow.  Yes – there was a twinge of ‘Oh my God, what have I gotten myself into now’, but – what the hell else could I do?  It’s not like there was anyplace else to go.  And I sure as hell wasn’t about to swim back to that fucking island!  Besides – this would be an adventure.  No one could force me to do anything I didn’t want – and how bad could it be?  (Famous last word here).  So – our escorts were a bit on the alternative side.  That should make things interesting.  Oh, yeah – interesting is as good a way as any to describe the direction the evening eventually took.  Let’s just say I will always remember Subic, and I’m afraid Subic might always remember me.  I’m not exactly sure, mind you; because my recollection of that evening borders on fuzzy at best.  I will tell you one thing, though – I’ve never been able to stand the smell of strawberries since that night.

By the time we’d crossed Shit River, Ms. Hooker had finished polishing off the good minister.  You know – the gate guards hadn’t even turned a hair?  And it’s not like what she was doing wasn’t obvious.  Talk about your culture of corruption!  After a while, it just becomes second nature.  The van eventually got parked in a large lot behind one of the noisier clubs – and that was saying something, because the ambient sound had ratcheted up about 1000% the moment we hit the main drag.  Sailors and their hooks were everywhere, music blaring from open doors at maximum decibel level – everything from ‘White Wedding’, to ‘Mama - Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys.’  The minister turned to me and asked where we wanted to start.  At this point Robin tugged at my arm, indicating she wanted to go back, but I shrugged her off.  Not the kindest response, I know – but we were already there, and, ‘in keeping with the situation’ (as Mrs. Dilber says to Scrooge one snowy Christmas morning), why the hell not?  So I said – ‘Wherever you like.  You lead, we will follow.’

And off we flew on our ‘E’ ticket ride.  The first club we hit was pure disco – naked girls up in cages dancing – sometimes with sailors, sometimes with other girls.  A red velvet swing, a la Evelyn Nesbit swung out over the dance floor – a very pretty, very naked girl seated within.  If you managed to catch her, you got a kiss – anywhere you liked.  Think ‘Circus Circus’ without the clowns.  The beer was cheap, and plentiful.  Our friend settled himself at what was obviously a regular table, his hooker on his lap, while his daughter and her evening’s entertainment headed off to the bathroom for a little clandestine shagging.  How do I know this?  Well – the guy she was with had her dress up around her ears, and his fingers buried in places I didn’t care to know about, before they had gone 10 paces.  Broad wore no underwear, by the way.  I snuck a glance at Robin to see how she was holding up.  I must admit, the girl looked a little green around the gills.  She kept twisting around in her chair to see if she recognized anybody from our husband’s ship.  If she’d turned any more I swear she would be doing a Linda Blair impersonation.  I don’t know what she planned to do if she saw anybody – hiding under a table in Subic could be grossly misinterpreted.  Besides – I wouldn’t want to know what was stuck to that floor.       

We drank, and we danced, and we drank a hell of a lot more.  After a while Robin seemed to lighten up, which lessened my feelings of guilt.  I don’t know if it was the beer, or that we hadn’t all gone up in a puff of smoke for venturing off base – but she actually managed to smile once or twice.  Soon though, our host grew tired of the same old same old – and got up to leave.  I went and collected the shagadelic duo from their bathroom encampment, and on we went to the next establishment.  Now – this is where things began to get interesting.  I will admit to being a mite buzzed at this point.  Between the wine at dinner, and the half dozen beers I sucked down while dancing, let’s say I was feeling no pain.  So when we entered the be all and end all of shit-kicker bars, I was definitely in a mood.  This bar featured two things – line dancing, and a mechanical bull.  It was also a ‘hookers only’ bar; meaning wives just didn’t go there.  It wasn’t considered respectable.  Imagine that!  There wasn’t a truly respectable place in the whole of Subic, but a woman could get a ‘bad’ reputation for being seen in one of ‘these’ clubs. 

I must say, the local girls were less than thrilled at our being there.  A number of the men immediately came over and started fawning all over us, ditching the hooks they had already contracted with for the night.  And Robin didn’t help.  By this time she’d moved past toasted all the way into half-baked.  She hated the local girls – turned her nose up so far if she were a goose she would have drowned in a heavy rain.  She was a very pretty woman – lovely face and figure with long blond hair.  So when the men flocked around, she began preening, not caring if the guy had other commitments.  I saw the potential for trouble right away – and decided to head it off as best I could.  Remember – I knew some of these girls.  I don’t pass judgments on people.  Life in P. I. was hard – you survived as best you could.  Most of these girls didn’t see themselves as hookers, you know; they thought of themselves as ‘wives in waiting.’  The bar fines and additional money that changed hands were looked on as gifts.  Some of the men played this game as well.  These guys would actually consider marriage.  Unfortunately, most of the men treated their hooks like the excrement that clogged Shit River.  I hated to see that.  I was actually on the side of the girls – I just wished it wasn’t necessary.  The Navy took advantage of Subic – fostered the sex trade; turned their back on what was happening.  So I made sure to treat every hook I met with the respect I felt they deserved.  Not much, I know – but it was all I could offer at the time.

I thought I recognized a couple of the girls heading toward the bathrooms.  Leaving Robin in our extremely drunk minister’s hands, and praying she wouldn’t set the bar on fire while I was gone, I made my way toward the woman’s lavatory.  The sweet scent of marijuana floated out of the open door.  Cool, I thought.  If they want to share, we can get stoned together.  Great bonding experience.  Now, let me tell you all a little something about me and intoxicating substances – I’ll drink a little booze and smoke some pot – but that’s all.  I am not nor have I ever been interested in trying anything else.  I grew up in a family of addicted crazy people, and I have no wish to emulate their aberrant behavior.  Usually, I have much more sense than to accept anything from relative strangers.  I’d learned my lesson many boyfriends ago from an itinerant musician who lived in San Francisco near Ghirardelli square.  He offered me a joint, and I smoked it – not realizing it was Thai stick, and much more powerful stuff than I was used to.  I don’t like feeling as though time has slowed down. Or, as my girlfriend Paige used to put it – feeling my hair grow. Pleasantly buzzed is my motto – and I usually have the smarts to follow it.

Not that night, though.  My well-tuned radar shorted out big time – in every possible way.  One of the girls in the bathroom was indeed one of the hooks I had met earlier in the week.  She and I shared a joint while I explained what Robin and I were doing there that evening.  I was at the point of asking her to convey this information to the other women in the club, when the drug kicked in.  Like a mule on steroids.  Oh boy!  I literally felt the earth move – and then my head began to move with it.  The two hooks laughed – they thought this was very funny stuff.  I’m sinking, and they’re treating it like stand-up.  I managed to ask them just what was in that marijuana.  I really didn’t like the answer.  It was laced with opium, children.  Honest to god, locally grown opium.  I was stoned out of my gourd - and here’s where things begin to get a bit hazy.  I see myself doing them, but from a distance, as if I was walking beside my own body.  I was fucked – well and truly fucked.  I found myself staring at the one woman I knew.  She managed to look just a bit guilty – and suddenly I knew I’d been shanghaied.  Robin’s pissyness coupled with my own stupidity had sunk the Bismarck.  I was going to have to navigate through shark infested waters with the mental equivalent of dandelion fluff for a lifeboat.  God help me!

  How I got out of that bathroom remains a mystery to this day.  Suddenly I found myself out on the dance floor, cute guys everywhere, whirling around like a dervish – not knowing where anyone was.  When we stopped (I say stopped, but as far as I was concerned the room kept moving) I was able to identify our erstwhile minister passed out at one of the tables, his hook nowhere in sight.  I never saw his daughter or her ‘friend’ ever again.  I assume they made it back to the base, ‘cause no dead bodies turned up the next morning (unless you count mine).  Robin – oh, Robin!  There she was, standing next to the mechanical bull, bestowing a fervent kiss on the gladiator who’d just finished his ride.  I could see she was considering pulling a Debra Winger. OK – I thought – in for a penny!  Go ahead!  I encouraged her, fully intending to ride that damn thing myself.  What can I say – good sense had long since gone by-by and flown out the window.  Replacing it was a ‘so stoned my teeth are vibrating’ hubris that defied conventional mortality.  In other words, I was too fucking stupid to live that night.

Up Robin goes and they’re off!  Round and round and round the damn thing circled, Robin perched up on top like a rag doll.  Cheers and catcalls fill the club.  Surprisingly, she looked to be doing OK.  I mean – trust me; this is not something this woman would be good at – not at all.  Suddenly blond hair is flying everywhere and flomp goes Robin down on her ass.  As least twenty guys rushed in to pick her up.  She was fine, too bonelessly drunk to have done any significant damage.  But I’d seen what the bull operator had done.  The man had sped things up, right at the end, and when the damn thing was turning.  Bastard tried to knock her off, and I was having none of that!  ‘Me!’  I shouted.  ‘I’m next, mother fucker!  Just try and knock my ass off!’  Oh – that went down like a sausage slathered in wasabe.  Let’s challenge the asshole, and then incite him to try and make you fall.  Real smart, girl – you ought to get a medal!  Keep in mind I am still drinking through all of this.  More raw P. I. beer – mmmmm good!  Tasted of formaldehyde (which it would, formaldehyde being used as a preservative) and got you drunk quick.  I was in no condition to be riding anything, let alone some hugeantic mechanical bull; but at that point, you coulda stuck me in a pot and called me Petunia - I was game for anything.

So - stay tuned - same bat time, same bat channel.  See what happens when the lowly strawberry mutates into a deadly chemical weapon.

Comments

[Debby]

OMG, you've got me laughing hysterically here. Reminds of more than a few of my nights out. Sure you were out of the country and not in some sleazy biker bar in upstate NY?!! Keep it coming, can't wait to hear the rest!

[StealthBadger]

Reminds me of watching two good friends of mine... One was bartending at the party... the other walked up to the first one and said, and I quote, "hurt me."

My friends are evil, and that is all I will say.

[SB_Gypsy]

OK, I'm well & truly hooked. Can't wait for the next installment..

Had me some of that stuff you were experiencing once,(a "friend" never mentioned that it was "laced") so I know where your head was at...

But to be there while you were where you were, well, that's new territory for me.