He didn't turn into a pumpkin..

Now that I’ve got everything set up.. well, I guess I can get to the whole meat of blogging.

Being a 20 year old, I can’t claim to have experience in a lot of things – I mean, there’s bound to be people who are a couple years older then me, who have had more experience with any given subject. But on the subject of drunk motherfuckers, I’d say I’ve gotten more experience then most people, if only for the fact that I’m in the Marine Corps. If you didn’t know, the Marine Corps was born in a bar – Tun Tavern in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and with that in mind, the Marine Corps produces more then it’s fair share of serious drinkers. Some might even say alcoholics, but.. yeah.

Anyway, keeping all this in mind, we had our Marine Corps Ball last night. The Ball is a traditional event that celebrates the Marine Corps Birthday – 10 November, 1775 – and as such, there’s a lot of heavy drinking.

My room mate Cpl Myrick, he’s a world class drunk. I thought the time he came in drunk, turned on the hot water in the shower, and then proceeded to pass out drunk in the rack, leaving a soaked bathroom for my room inspection the next day was his best. Apparently not.

Last night he came in around 0200, and he had to have two other Marines hold him upright. We stripped him out of his Dress Blues (read: best uniform), and then proceeded to roll his drunk ass into the top rack. After I thanked everybody and escorted that group of drunks out, Cpl Myrick proceeded to roll off of the top rack. Which was a good five feet off the ground. As hilarious as I found this (I’m in the Marine Corps and we were issued a different sense of humor then all the rest), it now presented another problem – getting him back in the rack.

Which, of course, he didn’t want to do. What he did want to do was roll around on the floor, and thrash like he was trying to swim. Occasionally telling the floor to ‘Get the fuck off me’ and ‘Leave me alone’. As amusing as this was, he started knocking crap over, so I decided to take out the trash. The last thing I wanted was him knocking over our garbage, and then rolling around in it.

When I got back, he had convinced himself for some reason, that he needed to stand up. This was also a great source of amusement to me, and I wish I’d had a video camera. It reminded me of one of those nature documentaries where they hit a large African beast with a tranq dart, and they start spasming around. Either that, or one of the scenes from a movie where the preteen hero pours liquid detergent on the floor to make the antagonist slip and slide.

I could go on and describe the two hours of him acting like a jack ass, wanting to fight me, bartering to be let outside for a smoke, more acting like a jack ass and wanting to fight me, but I don’t really have the patience for that, and I doubt it’s something anyone here wants to read. I’ll close with saying that I strongly considered punching him in the face to knock him the fuck out, but refrained only due to our upcoming return to work on Monday.

That and I’m a nice guy.