Last Friday night, I had the opportunity to perform with the rest of the Time Out comediennes, and after the show we headed over to the Rockbottom Brewery in Portland. The food was good, the company fun. But the highlight of the evening centered about two words: Fleet Week.
Part of the fun and excitement of the Portland Rose Festival (in addition to a bunch of really funny moms performing stand-up, of course) is the addition of a whole bunch of folks wearing white. And I do not mean virginal white. I mean tight Navy whites. Add copious amounts of alcohol and the human capacity for stupidity, and it is a very entertaining experience. Especially if you are sober and able to witness the train wrecks.
Looking for a recipe for disaster? Have I got a good one. Take a whole bunch of young people who travel about the world on a big boat. Add to that another large bunch of under-educated young people who are bored, horny, or desperate. Lastly, mix in large amounts of booze. Whaddaya get? Well, it ain’t pretty, what ever it is, let me tell you.
A few spectacles observed:
1. One woman utilized the “bumper car” technique down the stairs – all 28 million of them (warning, a slight exaggeration). It appeared to leave fewer marks than the other poor soul who took a rather large step after the first 3 normal steps. The largeness of her 4th step was due to being airborne for about 15 vertical feet. Her performance would have made Simon cry.
2. One young woman taste-tested the stomach contents of most men in tight white pants that she met coming and going on her 3 trips to the bathroom.
3. Another young woman had a 13 minute conversation with her friend (not sure if it was about string theory or which mascara to use now that Maybelline no longer makes the pink/green version). The entire conversation was spent bent at the waist while maintaining no more than 3 inches of space between her buttocks and the face of a young sailor. How she held that still is beyond me.
4. Another fine example of Portland’s best young women was the lass terribly concerned that all sailor’s pants were in danger of falling down. Apparently a “squeeze one buttock per palm” is a much more effective technique than a belt at holding up trousers.
5. One young sailor had a glittering statement on his finger – giving a whole new meaning to cheap cocktail jewelry. I believe something quite similar is available for purchase at the nearest coin operated candy dispenser. I cannot vouch for the ring’s craftsmanship however, as it was on the floor in the women’s handicapped stall about 20 minutes after the sailor escorted a young lady up the stairs. I have no idea how it got in there. Really, I couldn’t hazard a guess.
It really was a great night. At least I can remember it. And the full name of the person I went home with. But then, I’ve been married to him for nearly 18 years now.