Good morning Cape Breton.
Maximus Handsomius here from my forever home.
I promise you, this is the last Facebook story. Originally posted on 22nd May 2007, here goes:
Hooters - The Restaurant
Rob at work said that I was talking about Hooters to Cynthia.
Now, I have a mind that works in mysterious ways. When Rob said Hooters, it reminded me of a story.
My first Hooters Restaurant was in Norfolk VA.
Now, you know that I couldn't start this story with me just walking into Hooters. Naw, lets roll the clock back a few hours. Lets say about 12 hours...
They had piped that the Master Seaman and Below van would be leaving in 5 minutes. So I rushed off the ship. Well as I was leaving the brow area, I only caught the gangway with the tip on my sneaker. So I stumbled forward and barked my shin. Really good too! But I didn't cry out as I wanted to get on the duty van. So I got up, looked over at the brow staff, said that I was a goof (which they knew) and ran off the ship.
Myself and the boys decided to go to the Chiefs & PO's club on base in Norfolk. I was sailing on HMCS Nipigon. That would have been for NATO 93. We drank a lot, watched TV and played darts. Lots of fun. Lots of beers.
After much beer was drank, it was time to get back to the ship. This would have been late in the day. I had only brought out $20.00 with me to the Chief's and PO's. Hey, back in '93 20 bucks bought you a lot of drinks.
The duty van pulled up and all these drunkards got into the van. Bless the duty driver for putting up with us all.
As we got back to the ship, I was noticing that my shin was really hurting. Remember earlier, where I had stated that I barked my shin. This is going to come to play later in the story...
Someone suggested that we go to the Mess for a nightcap. So, being without money, I knew to run down to 12 Mess to my locker and get some more money.
Now, this part is very, very, VERY important. Don't run thru a destroyer.
As I was running thru the ship, going aft, I jumped when I should have ducked. My head cracked the hatch combing and I went horizontal. I hit the hatch combing so hard, I was knocked out. Now, dead weight hit the deck. If we were watching the old Batman series, the word "WHAM!" Or even, "WHAP!" You would definitely seen the word "OOOOF" when I hit the deck.
What brought me out of my comatose state was hearing the action alarm and the pipe "Causality, causality, causality! Causality in 12 Mess flats! First aide teams take action!" As I was trying to get up, a hand was forcing me back down. I struggled several times but the hand was insistent, trying to keep me pined to the deck.
I took a deep breath, and looked up into the eyes of a very concerned crewman. I said that I was part of the first aide team and that I had to go. She said, "No, your the causality! Lay the fuck down!"
Then, the pain hit. I can feel it right now. Owiee...
My head hurt from hitting the hatch combing. My back, my arse, and the back of my head hurt too from hitting the steel deck. Remember my shin? That hurt too!
Suddenly there is about 20 or more people all looking down at me. Well I had about enough of laying down on the cold steel deck. I wanted to sit up. I have about 20 people that all want to put their medical training to work. They wanted to put on a cervical collar on me. I didn't want that. I started to thrash about wanting to sit up.
The medical folks didn't know what to do. So they let me sit up. Crap, there was blood on the deck. Now it is running down each side of my face. Oh hell, it was dripping on my brand new, white, sweatshirt. It is going to be ruined.
So they put a pressure bandage to control the bleeding. Then it was off to the base hospital. Remember that duty driver. Well he had to stay with me at the hospital. There was quite the line up too. It was about a 2 hour wait.
Finally we got to see the Dr.
He was less than impressed with me being as drunk as I was. But I was a happy drunk, so there wasn't too much to loose at this point.
He started with my shin, which I was bitchin about. I guess I did a lot of damage to my shin when I barked it. So much so, that it had opened up a very large patch of skin that had bled into my grey wool sock. The only way to see it was to remove the sock. He did so with a lot of gusto.
I think he enjoyed hurting me at this point. I think I actually called him a bad name. Now there was fresh gushers of blood on my shin. And the PAIN! It was all encompassing and had my undivided attention. So they cleaned it up and added a dressing.
Oh, did you think they were finished with my head? No.
There was a split in the skin on my skull. So the only way to fix that was to use surgical staples to hold the skin in place. No sedative. No freezing. No pain... oh wait, that last part it a complete and utter lie! I thought my shin hurt.
HOLLY CRAP OLA!
Each staple was drilling into my skull.
This Dr was getting off on the pain.
4
Friggin
Staples
I was grunting at each one as they were going in.
So, lets move forward 6 hours.
I am now sitting in Hooters in Norfolk VA. Now this is back in the day when Hooters was very sexist. The ladies had to have very little body fat and they had to be very endowed. It seemed that most of the ladies there were blonde too.
If my head would have been mounted on a swivel, it couldn't have turned fast enough to watch all the ladies moving around.
At one point, our waitress was going to pat me on the head for saying something cute. I pulled my head away (pain... well, hangover pain at least...) and said for her not to touch my head.
The boys started laughing at me. She was concerned and asked what those mean guys were laughing at.
I told her that I was running thru the ship and had banged my head and they put staples in to hold the cut shut.
She said that there was no such thing.
So I gently parted my hair to show her. She stepped back and held up the beer tray like a shield. She asked how did they do that. I told her that I was bleeding, so they opened up the stapler, put the staple part against my head and then, tock, tock, tock, tock, done!
She went white. She was walking backwards. She asked if it hurt. I told her it hurt a lot, but that it needed to be done.
She scurried off.
Then I started noticing that the other Hooter girls were walking past our table and trying to see my head.
After awhile I was more than obliging. I would hang my head down, and part my hair, while I was staring at their...
Well, I am sure you can see why this is such a great Hooters story.
If you don't believe that this is a true story, ask me to show you the scar on the top of my head. I have a lot shorter hair now, and I don't have to part my hair any longer. You can look at my scar while I look at your...
Here endeth the lesson.
Your Blast From the Past
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Max our Bernese Mountain Dog having his apple
Bye bye fur now
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