A right good story

One of my buddies from USS Last Ship is taking my spot when I leave.  He is also an HT2.  We were swapping sea stories and news of mutual friends one day, and I remembered a doozy of a knee slapper.  This is a good place to remind you I was more fresh air than snipe on the last ship.

I was on Shore Patrol with a Chinese-American EM.  She spoke Chinese.  I was picked because of my size.  She was very well endowed for a female of Chinese ancestry.  We were tsked with walking around and “showing the flag”.  Junior sailors could ask us for directions, or we could help them make proper decisions.

Late in the evening, the Officer in Charge (OIC) tasked us to wander into the various no-tell motels and herd the E-4 and junior back to the ship.  We walked into the first one, and the mama-san spoke to my partner in Chinese.  I speak about three words of Chinese.  I am fluent in pissed off though.  And EM1 sounded pretty pissed off when she replied.  We finished our assigned task and went back to patrolling. I asked her why she sounded angry when she was talking to the mama-san.

“HT1,” she said, “She thought I was a hooker!”

I cracked up.  Lucky for me my brain to mouth filter kicked in, or I would have probably been in trouble.  I wanted to point out that her extra large chest region may have led to that assumption, but I kept my mouth shut out of decency.  I laugh about that incident often.

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