New Year’s Eve. It’s really about the only night we have to celebrate just to be getting fucked up. And man, have I gotten fucked up on New Years Eve before. I got so fucked up New Years 1980 that I set off the show at the Enlisted Men’s Club at 9 PM. The funny part was everybody else was as fucked up as I was and started popping the corks on their complimentary bottle of champagne and singing the ‘For Old Acquaintances nah nah nah’ song – you know the one – and slapping each other on the backs. The band was up on the stage going “What the fuck?” – no really, you could hear them saying that over their mics, and the fucking club manager was trying to calm everybody down while kicking my ass out at the same time. Then the riot started near the stage…..
New Year’s Eve, 1980. The year the club closed at 9:15, surrounded by MPs and ambulances, 2 people hospitalized and a shitload of others treated and released, and I apparently got away in the confusion.
I woke up the next morning in my own bunk, fully clothed and reeking of cheap champagne and wearing my roommate’s expensive Italian leather jacket which I don’t think I need to mention was ruined.
I had some recollection of what transpired the evening before but apparently not enough, because as soon as motherfuckers started rousing around the barracks they were all in my room telling me all about it and pouring me shots and lighting bowls and laughing their asses off. “Yeah man, you’d been hitting a heavy nod for about two hours and then all of a sudden you jumped up on the table yelling ‘Happy New Year, motherfuckers!’ and spraying everybody with champagne.”
“Yeah, and then when Sgt Maxwell started draggin you to the door after you threw your bottle at the bar, you was growlin and bitin him on the leg! Like a fucking bulldog, man!”
“Then you finally let go and puked in the doorway so when the MPs showed and everybody was trying to jam, they were slipping and sliding and falling all in that shit and you were outside laughing like a maniac.”
“Last we saw of you, you were staggering off towards the barracks. Staggering and puking, staggering and puking….”
Damn. Good times.