Easy Riders

“There is no way that shit will still be on the wall” I informed Sammy. “Bullshit” he retorted, “If God
actually does still love us then it will be there”. The “shit” under discussion was a chalk-written phrase on the
wall of the bar stating, “Day 105 and God still loves us” that we put there a year previously. We walked in and
began looking for the graffiti. There was plenty about, just not the piece we wanted. The exact location was a
little hazy due to our condition when writing it. “Right there” Sammy declared, “It was right there”. That’s a
dart board you jackass” I informed him. “Then it must be behind it” and he climbed on a stool and
pulled the whole thing off the wall and…of course… there it was.

It was significant because the number of days, 105, represented the time since Sam’s resurrection from his
first divorce. After a weepy, drunken orgy of self-loathing and decrepitude Sam busted out and became the
raving beauty we all loved. This happened shortly after his arrival in Okinawa to B Company, 1st Battalion, 1st
Special Forces Group, which at the time was a very famous unit. The fame, more properly infamy, was due to
the Sergeant Major of the unit going to Leavenworth for smuggling guns onto Okinawa, apparently for sale to
the Yakuza, the Japanese mafia. The payment apparently was gold and someone involved failed a piss test for
drugs so we changed the unofficial company motto to “Bravo, First of the First, Drugs, Guns and Gold”. We
considered making t-shirts but assumed that someone in authority would disapprove. Sam and I were both
fresh from the Special Forces Qualification Course or “Q” course and Oki was our first Special Forces
assignment. Normally cherries don’t go to Oki because it is forward-deployed and gets much more dangerous
missions than the stateside units but there were other members of the unit involved with the smuggling and the
command structure wanted some fresh meat not connected to the incident or individuals.

Having found the evidence that God still loved us; we assumed that boded well for the rest of our evening.
Grabbing multiple rum and cokes we proceeded to the pool table. Sam is a legitimately good player with
flashes of brilliance and I often don’t suck, but that night the juju was all good. We won the table and Sam
informed the room “Table stakes is a round for the winners and we will kick the shit out of any of you Air Force
homos who step up”. This went over like a turd in a punch bowl but we readily had our first victims. The
prediction was eerily accurate though, as we just couldn’t lose. We quickly accumulated a long row of full
glasses and every victory was accompanied by much pontificating as I educated all present on the
shortcomings of the US Air Force and it's lineage. “The main problem with the Air Force is that it’s not really
even a military service. You live in dormitories and eat in cafeterias. Christ it’s a fuckin’ fraternity.” I taught. Our
continued success and verbal excess was beginning to chafe, and the natives were seething. The flashpoint
was Sam lining up on the eight ball then looking away at me, smiling at the poor wingnut, and burying the ball
in the pocket without even looking back, proclaiming “Next!”

I was in the process of remounting my soapbox to continue my education of the unwashed masses, when I
heard a nasty thwack and turned to see one of guys we had just thumped, thump the ground. I looked back
and Sammy had a pool ball in his hand and an amazed look on his face. “Damn” he said “That fucker was
gonna hit you with a cue”. That was about all the discussing we did, as this was obviously time to exit. After an
adrenaline-filled run through the alleys we stopped and I asked him “What the fuck just happened?” “I told you
mothafucker that mothafucker was gonna hit you with a pool cue. I think I broke his skull” “No” I said, “I saw him
he was OWT out but his head was OK”. “I hit him with the fuckin’ cue ball BAM” Sammy recalled, “He just laid
right the fuck down”. “No shit” I agreed, “Just out of curiosity, you don’t happen to know where the fuck we are
do you?” We both looked around and it was apparent that we were in Korea but as to where, no clue.