|Submarine Doc's were some amazing guys
and I think we owe it to them; hell, we owe it to history to tell about
We were in Subic - in the summer no
less. 110 in the shade. 110 at midnight. Now I'm not big on heat and I
was getting a little sick of the "shows," so I went back to the boat found
an empty rack in a cool place in the forward room and crashed. I woke up
at 2200 hours feeling very strange. Next to my rack was a box of mangos
that someone had dragged down the forward hatch. Something very unfriendly
also came aboard and decided to take a bite out of me. In short, I felt
like hell and had, literally, blown up to twice my size. I looked like
the Michellin Man.
I could barely move and I could barely
make it through the hatches to control. Almost everyone was on the beach,
so I just sat there, blowing up like the Macy's float, praying the Doc
would get back.
Sure enough, around midnight, he comes
stumbling down the after battery hatch so drunk he could barely stand.
I mean gone. Out. Finito. I turn him around and he takes one look at me
and says very calmly: "Shit. Follow me." We stumble back into Hogan's Alley.
It's pitch dark.
He starts rumbling through a huge case
of pills. I can hear the plastic bottles being shuffled around. He's swaying
and can barely stand. I say to myself: "He's going to kill me. He's going
to give me the wrong stuff and I'm going to die here in Subic the size
of the Hindenberg.
Finally, after a very long five minutes,
he pulls out one pill. Not a bottle, just one pill. "Take this," he says,
and folds himself like a collapsing tent into his rack and he's out. I
look at the pill, look at the guys who are looking at me like I'm from
Mars and decide: "What the hell." I take the pill, crawl into my rack and
wake up 24 hours later my normal size. No one woke me or bothered me. I
couldn't believe it.
I went looking for the Doc to thank
him, but he was out drinking. Loved that guy.