Twenty years ago, on my 21st birthday, I found myself serving duty at Prince Sultan Air Base in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. It was a surprisingly easy assignment, as our working conditions were climate controlled, and during the time I was there we didn't have to throw our chem suits on more than twice for an exercise. I was assigned there 2 weeks before my 21st, so I was sort of pissed, but my friends had bribed a bouncer of a local titty bar in Honolulu at my regular assignment 2 days before I left to pretend I was 21 already. My workday on my 21st was normal, wrapping wires and updating diagrams, typical boring telecom shit. Then we took off to the chow hall for lunch. A friend of mine handed me his camelback because he said he needed to go talk to someone after we got there. I just put it on my back and forgot about it. Shortly afterward, we were standing in line at the Hall and I realized there was a 4 star general at one of the serving lines. BONUS! Every time there's a high ranking officer on base, they serve something great. This day it was Alaskan king crab legs. Talk about a birthday gift. So I got General WhatsHisName to serve me some seafood, then we go find a seat. I got about halfway through these crab legs before my hands were bleeding profusely and a friend told me to use my Leatherman on them, which I should have been smart enough to use in the first place. I complained that the lemon was making my hands burn. Then he said "Mike bought a pint of Vodka from a TCN (third country national) and put it in that camelback with some orange juice, that'll dull the pain. It's yours." Dang. Another birthday surprise. So I grabbed the straw on the camelback and started chugging away. Mind you, I didn't have much of a tolerance for alcohol at this point, and hadn't had anything containing alcohol for two weeks. I didn't even get through the next crab leg before my stomach started feeling upside down, but I also had to piss. I excused myself and went looking for a latrine. The Air Force latrine had probably 15 people in line, but one of the guys in front of me informed me of a TCN (yes, third country national, aka middle eastern contractor) latrine a short walk up the road. So, I took a stroll and sae this bathroom building with NOBODY IN LINE. Awesome. Birthday surprise! I walked in, and the stink of shit and piss immediately made my eyes burn, and my gorge rose. The inside of the room looked like it has been constructed with warped particle board and burnt rice paper. I found an open urinal, surprisingly there were 2 more USAF guys that had the same idea hugging the wall. I started whizzing, heard some guy scream in one of the toilet stalls (Birthday surprise!), and I pinched it off and headed to a sink. There was some fucked up shit in this sink. I didn't even want to look at it in the case that I recognized something. I decided to skip washing my hands and I turned for the door when this TCN comes walking out of a toilet stall in front of me AND HIS RIGHT HAND IS FULL OF DIARRHEA. Fucking FULL. I had heard of middle eastern differences in how they deal with doo doo. None of those stories prepared me for this. I just couldn't help myself, I threw up right on this disgusting motherfucker. On his pants and shoes. He looked at me angry and growled -'"YOU POOK!!" I looked at the fucking guy and I yelled - "YOU POOP!!!" And point at his hand. I actually got in a fight with this shit and puke covered dirtbag, in a disgusting latrine, in the Saudi Arabian desert, shitfaced drunk and full (or previously full) of Alaskan king crab on my 21st birthday. 20 years later, I don't think I would change a thing.
Well we need a tgg party. Happy birthday. Happy September. What a great month, my birthday, yours, and most important of all..football starts.
Mostly on my neck, maybe a little on my cheek. He was not a big guy, probably 5'8" standing on a pile of camel dung. Definitely no doo doo above the jaw muscle.
Happy bday if yours is soon. I stopped being a birthday guy years ago, but I just smoked my first doja in two years and I'm feeling reflective.
Next Thursday, 9 days away, then it's the iconic, cursed 27. Hope you're enjoying that haha. It must be pretty intense.
I met my 18th bday sitting chest deep in snow about 100 km from Tula, in an empty training center. That day the rook training was over and everyone was moving back. Me and 2 of my buds got wasted the night before and slept right through departure. Woke up -- nobody's there, shitload of snow and 20 km to the nearest village. Took us 2 days to get to the road and flag a car. Happy birthday, Byz and thank you for your service.
Happy birthday - I freaking hate birthdays myself, just turned 29 in July. I've hated them more as I got older.
