Another PI Story

The Philippines. Would any collection of lies and slander like the EM Log be complete without a few PI stories? I think not. Unfortunately, all the best ones are NSFW (where I am right now, supposedly earning my time-and-a-half overtime, but really just putting in hours for appearance’s sake). I can, however, tell you the two things about the PI that I miss the most, and here they are:

The first was being rich. Well, not really, but every one of us broke-ass squids was a freakin’ millionaire compared to the locals. At first it was a little embarrassing, but after a little while that kind of power was so intoxicating that we all went a little insane. I’m not exaggerating because it’s impossible TO exaggerate where the PI is concerned. No matter what excess you can think of, I saw worse while I was there. One time I watched some drunk Army guys pay two teenage boys to beat the crap out of each other in the center of the bar, gladiator-style. We’re talking some serious, tooth-loosening damage.

The second thing I miss is the sex. But it's not just the sex, its having so much sex that it literally became a non-issue. That is saying something, or at least it was for me when I was 20. The only thing that even comes close is the kind of sex you have when you’ve been dating a girl for a while and she’s really trying to set the hook: anything you want, whenever you want it. Somewhere there are real-life engineers working on a practical Cherry 2000, and that is what the world will be like for all of us when they finally pull it off.

Women will just never understand.

The pursuit of sex is like the pursuit of food. When you're hungry, it's all you can think about. On the other hand, after a good meal you can go for several hours without food even crossing your mind. The best-case scenario is to have so much food around that you're not worried about where your next meal is coming from. Well, sex is just another need for guys like food, only it seems like we spend most of our lives on the edge of starvation.

Visiting the PI was like moving into the world's biggest supermarket; whatever you were into, you got so much of it that you were well and truly satisfied. But it wasn’t just that, it was knowing, KNOWING, that you were going to get laid when you left the barracks, and it was probably going to be the best you’d ever had. Talk about role reversals – I bet being stationed in the PI for women was like being stationed anywhere else was for guys. Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing many Navy chicks the whole time I was there, and those few I did see looked mighty unhappy.

This was probably made worse by the fact that they still acted like they were still enjoying a 500 to 1 male-female ratio, when in reality it was just the opposite. I saw this first hand one day while I was waiting at Cal-Jams. It was early and the place was fairly empty, so I had to actually bribe one of the girls there NOT to bug me. Anyhow, I was just sitting there watching the TV when two young (and obviously Navy) women came in and sat at the table next to mine. Just to be polite, I leaned over and said hi.

One of them said “hi” in return, but the other gave a fuck-off stare and muttered “whatever”.

“What was that?” I asked.
The second one rolled her eyes and launched into some sort of ready-made speech: “We’re not interested. We don’t want to dance, we don’t want a drink, so just leave us alone, okay?”

“Whatever” I responded in turn.

Eventually my friends showed up and we took off. A few hours later we happened to be back in the area, so we stopped by Cal Jams to see who else was around (it was one of my boat’s adopted bars – the other was Island Girls). Those same two girls were still there, looking to all the world like someone pissed in their Wheaties. The funny thing was, not one single guy in the whole place paid any attention to them during the hour or so we were there. If they’d gone to the place to be left alone, they were sure getting their wish. It was kinda sad; whenever someone would get near their table the first one would look up expectantly… only to be utterly ignored.