" A Gal In Every Port "

Moms and Dads, lock up your doors and hide your daughters … the fleet is in town!  Any young lady within a fifty mile radius of port of entry were never safe from a sailor who had been out to sea for any amount of time.   Swabs were like a pack of hungry pit bulls chasing a pork chop as soon as they saw women for the first time in months!

Why wouldn’t they? When a sea going Crackerjack just spent a month at sea stone cold sober, working sixteen hour days, his most intimate moments were on the shitter with Rosie and her five marry sisters and a filthy nekkit lady magazine that’s been passed from shipmate to shipmate … just don’t get the pages sticky! There’s nothing like being out at sea crammed into a testosterone fueled compartment with no contact with the outside world to make you a bit untamed.

“Me hair is made of hemp and me clothes of seaweed … I’m as hard as I am as I are … aaaargh!”

That’s the spirit, I always say.  You tend to go feral with poor eating habits, rude sounds from strange orifices and a gape in your step we call your ‘sea legs!’  We were steeped, boiled and drowned in stupidity all those years. I suppose you could say we thought with the wrong head more times than not and that often lead to precarious situations.

And though we weren’t known for being debonair like a traveling Casanova, we could crack you up with the hook of a joke we’d honed to precision after endless night watches.  We had a certain sort of allure … peculiar and intriguing with every yarn we would spin of the mysterious storms & sun rises, treasures and faraway places we’d been! And when that lassie at the bar would gaze in the sailor’s eyes … she’d surely be lured through fathoms of charm she could only skim the surface of. 

And in a pub … How many can count the nights of drunken debauchery finding yourself trying to peel her arm off at 0400 hours to make it back to the ship before liberty secured?  What do you do with a ‘Drunken Sailor,’ indeed!  Nothing like the story of the sailor who was ‘UA’ with the Captain’s daughter and found passed out on top of her by Shore Patrol in a blubbering mess!

Yes, a “girl in every port” is a saying for a reason, but it’s not that simple. If there’s anything us Crackerjack Sailors liked more than a girl in every port, it’s having one waiting back home for your return! She’d be waiting joyfully with open arms wearing the dime store perfume and cheap red lipstick! After a passionate sailor promised all those gals eternal devotion, love and romance … it turns out there were more girls than you might think willing to spend their evenings with their panties off for some silly son-of-a-bitch of a sailor … He-He! Those were some days!!!