Interesting totpic. I tried to think of something and was somewhat surprised to realize that of ALL the many confrontations I've ever had none of them was funny. At least not at the time. But I am thinking of a couple that I am able to see the humor in, 49 years on.
It was late August of 1966. I rotated back to the good ol' USA from Vietnam. I was with the group that was being separated from active duty and was sent to Long Beach for separation.
We arrived on a Thursday and were told that we'd all be home in time to watch the football game in our on living rooms by Sunday.
Yeah, right!
We were all assigned billets in a transit barracks for the duration of our time going through the process of separation.
Standing in formation outside the dispersing office on Friday afternoon waiting to receive our final paychecks. After about an hour of standing there a young Ensign came out and told us that the dispersing officer had had a heart attack and that it would be Monday at the soonest before we could get paid. This meant, of course that we'd be staying longer in the transit barracks.
Why was that a problem you ask? Because the Chief Petty Officer in charge of the barracks was a mean, sadistic, and spiteful old guy that hate us all because we were not lifers and we'd soon be enjoying the luxury of civilian life.
He rolled us out bright and early Saturday morning for an impromptu personnel inspection. I did not at that point in time own one thread of military clothing of any kind. I didn't think I'd need it so I had tossed all my uniforms.
Needless to say the Chief was livid. He told me that I had to have a uniform for his inspections which would be every morning at this same time as long as we were there. He also told me I needed a haircut.
I tried to explain that I didn't have any uniforms and he told me I had better **** one. I also had the bad judgment to tell him that I was not require to get a haircut and wasn't going to. He disagreed with me big time.
Well I tried to borrow a uniform and the only thing I could come up with was this big guy that was well over 6' tall and not skinny. I am 5'5" tall and back then I was skinny. I had to roll the pant legs up all the way to the crotch and they still came down to my knees. About the same deal on the shirt. And I still had on civilian shoes....and I still didn't get a hair cut.
Next morning the poor old Chief nearly went mid-evil on me. You think Sgt. Carter used to yell at Gomer Pyle? Ha! The Chief spent a good 5 minutes blowing spit on me, insulting my heritage and threatening to mangle me into unrecognizable shapes and forms. I had the good sense to keep my mouth shut.
He told me to report to some Lt.'s Office Monday morning for discipline. Fortunately for me there was a guy in our group who's family lived in Long Beach and he invited me to stay with him until we could get out of there. I was off the base a couple of hours later and out of reach of the Chief. Never saw him again. The guy would no doubt have killed me if he'd gotten his hands on me.
This may be considered as part of the same situation as the above but it had nothing directly to do with the base or the Chief. It was 2 weeks before we FINALLY go out of there. I was a nervous wreck. One thing after another, every day it was "it'll be another day or so" for two weeks and at one point I was ready to do something stupid.
Finally we got paid and finished all our processing. We were informed at that point that all the airlines were on strike. That made perfect sense after the last two weeks. I had to take a bus north to Los-Angeles and then catch a bus to Houston via El Paso where I had to change buses.
I was one of the first passengers to board the bus from El Paso to Houston. I picked a row of seats about 1/4 of the way back and slid into the window seat. As more people began boarding finally a rather large woman got on the bus. I wasn't watching but I felt the bus move when she stepped aboard. She was full growed! And she had one of those large shopping bags with a rope handle on it and it was full.
I watched her as her eyes began to search for a good seat. By this time there weren't any totally empty rows left. I started to get a very uncomfortable feeling. We made eye contact and I got a clear image of her thoughts. There's a seat next to a little guy. Bingo! Sure enough she plopped down right next to me.
She clumsily turned around having to hold that massive shopping bag up above the backs of the seats and literally fell into the seat still holding the shopping bag up in the air. Then she had to work to cram it down to the floor between her feet,
By the time she got that done she was sweating profusely. Sweat was running off her in rivers. She looked over at me and introduced herself. Hi I'm Ruby.
Hi Ruby...
Before we got on the highway good ol' Ruby was fast asleep and snoring and leaning over in my direction. Every little bump she settled lower and lower untill most of the weight of her upper body was pressing down on me and I was now as wet from her sweat as she was.
I finally had to forsake good manners and respect and try to push her up off me so I could breathe. She woke up and apologized and then went right back to sleep and fell quickly over on top of me again.
Desperate now, I tried to think of something, some way to get away. I finally woke her up (after some effort) and told her I needed to get up and go to use the bathroom in the back of the bus. She grumbled and struggled to pull the bag up and get up and move out into the aisle.
I got up and headed for the back. I heard her ask me if I was coming back. I didn't look back and I didn't answer. I went into the bathroom and washed my face and hands and found a seat in the back of the bus and began the process of drying out. some of the people sitting back there must have witnessed the whole thing because a lot of them were smiling broadly and avoiding eye contact
I had nightmares about Ruby for over a year......
