Dive, Dive, Dive!!!!

Nina, Maria, Santa Maria?  I'm in a Sub drinking sangria!  Lemonhead, nachos, my Dads sub, if we tip it's cool my (something that rhymes with sub and references penis) can float.  Oh did I mention that I was on a submarine today, no?  Well let me enlighten you on the unexpected. 

I'm not talking a little mermaid sea deep explorer or hanging out with Jason trying to lose weight on subs....no I'm talking about a nuclear powered, missile toting, air rebreathing submarine of the United States Navy.  Now there a few things I, as a former Soldier (of FREEDOM), will never give the Navy respect for: come on they have their name tapes sewn above the right buttocks pocket (so you know who your taking from behind) and their new combat uniform a digitalized pattern of blue.  Don't get me wrong, if I worked on a ship and wanted to commit suicide that would be the perfect wardrobe, but as a death fearing man I would want my uniform to be prison orange if there was even a 1.26% chance of falling in to the water in the deep blue ocean...just me I guess.  The one thing I will give to them is the pure power you feel upon stepping on one of their subs, as a male this might cause instantaneous erections. 

As I board the poop deck (though don't really call it that to my disappointment) I am met by a Chief, not the Indian kind, who is to be my chaperone during this "duty" day.  As he leads me straight down the "gang" hole (I might be making up these Navy names, I'm not sure yet) straight in to the heart of the boat, he explains the basic parts of the ship.  I am beginning to fill with questions like a 15 year old around seasoned prostitute (who works down by the beach in Honolulu and asks saddening questions..screw that lady!), and can't wait till he’s done with the introductory brief.  Oh by the way this is Valentine’s day, a made up holiday by industry leads of the heart shaped box/candy manufactures in an effort to make people feel really bad about themselves for being single or lighten the bank accounts of those who aren't.  I recommend if you find yourself the former, celebrate it by going on a Navy Sub, you will fulfill that little hole people like to create with this holiday. 

"Question", as I feel the urge to raise my hand but resist, "If you nuclear powered submarine were to engage a whale named posidien, how fast would it achieve victory?"....blank stare.  "Question; is it true farts are recycled on the ship?"...blank stare.  "Question; is hot coating it the leading cause of homosexuality in the Navy?"...harder blank stare.  These are the questions that might or might not have been asked during this official sounding tour and an effort to break up the child like wonder I was feeling aboard this ship....and yes I would/would not be the person posing such serious matters.   

I have throughout my life compared myself to the many greats but I can tell you that over the last few weeks I have never felt a closer kinship to James Bond than before.  What’s that?  Oh last minute business trip to Hawaii, uh yeah I guess.  Oh, you'll pay for the hotel, rental car, dining, and keep me decently employed while I'm there....um, I guess.  Just because you chose a life that can be open as any book and mine will forever remained veiled in mystery and delight, with a few sacrifices, don't judge me prostitute....you don't get to go on Submarines!  That night I am proud to say I drank a fancy drink, think tropic Bond, of the Mai Tai and reveled in how my life has come to such a point.  Full power ahead....it's Hawaii adventure time!