saltdawg: (shotgun)
[personal profile] saltdawg
Well, faithful readers:

It was at the end of my winter of the most discontent I've ever had. I had to kick the Skank out of my apartment on the first leg of a trip to East Africa after finding out that she was not only cuckolding me in my own apartment, but turning tricks, via Craig's list" there as well. The one thing a seaman never wants to have to do is kick a woman out of his apartment when he won't be home for at least three or four months a-sea. BUt desperate news calls for desperate and ill advised actions. Of course, she didn't really ever leave, for a few months, at least. And once she "did" vacate my apartment, she was still sneaking in and staying there, while telling everybody I knew, WE knew, that I had turned her out on her ear and she was staying in homeless shelters. Meanwhile, she was still turning tricks and smoking rock in my apartment, despite my requests of friends to change the locks. See, my back door is an odd shape, and the locks couldn't be changed. I'm not going to get into the details, because someone could could still use her methods and get in, but she was still getting in.

However, when she left, finally left, with my return home imminent, she cleaned me out. From taking all but one fork and butter knife and all the freaking pepper in the house, to snaking things of real valiue she left. Kit and Kaboodle. "Our" dog, the one I had facilitated her adoption of for her burthday, in anticipation of the dog being her "company" during my absences, was returned to the shelter for "temporary" care. With her full assurances that I'd re-imburse any and all costs for boarding and vets and whatnot when I got back. I'm not going to even get into the rumors she spread around this very small and gossipy state.

So I got home to a very empty house, it seems that some women think that anything you might buy while you are together is automatic communal property, marriage or no, and that...well, I left her with monthly stipend checques based on what I was earning, and she was still cashing them even after I found out she was a whore and told her to get out. She even went so far as to transfer several thousand dollars out of my bank account into her pay-pal through the routing numbers on the stipend checques.

All of this is a stock seaman's story. Just about every guy I've sailed with has a similar story, and most, and even better story than this one.

But I returned, recieved several angry voicemails from the dog adoption people and had to take stock of all the havoc and destruction she had caused. There were shredded journals and photographs from long before I was ever involved with her &c. I retrieved the dog. I took stock of what had become of my home and my reputation and my life. And I began to drink a lot of whiskey. If you go back far enough, you can probably read all about the day-to-day events of the time. I think it was the winter of 2007-2008. It wasn't pretty. I was capable of drinking a full 1.75 of jameson's in a night. I'd like to think that it was less often that I did, but I'm going to remember that it was actually more often. Needless to say I was drinking a lot.

I was wallowing in misery and had many people who I called friends that only encouraged me to that train of thought. As I said, it was an uncomfortable and rough winter. I was ANGRY. I was angry at her, I was angry with myself. I was angry with the world, and I was angry with life itsself.

IN mid-January I ran out of paid days for leave and they put me on the crappiest tug in the fleet. The Lisa W. SHe was in the shipyard for repairs, her barge was up in dry-dock, but I was attached to the tug itsself in the Tampa harbor.


This is where this story really starts.

I knew that I had been abusing myself beyond what I deserved. I knew that the best thing for me was to "never get off of the boat" and I threw myself into sobriety and hard work. When I arrived on the Lisa, I started on the deck above the lower wheelhouse and chipped and painted my way down. I was making her look good, and that made me feel better about myself. I was making her look good, but I was standing a 12-6 watch, as we had a skeleton crew, And most of the mid to six watch was spent polishing brass and swabbing decks. We didn't have a cook, so I'd make breakfast for the guys. MOstly Waffles. They really loved waffles and Bacon on that boat. Especially waffles fried in bacon grease. But I'm getting off-topic.

In Tampa they have this event, or holiday, or whatever called "Gaspirilla day" It's kind of like "founder's day" but Gaspirilla was supposedly the Pirate that discovered Tampa. It's a big Hoo-Ha, and was always billed to me as Tampa's answer to Mardi-Gras. I had worked for that company (based out of Tampa) for almost five years at that point. And as luck would have it, Gaspirilla fell during my time on that tug. During the little over two weeks I spent on the Lisa, I left the port maybe a half a dozen times. And every time I went to re-enter all I had to do was show my USCG issued Merchant Mariner's document and after a cross-refrence with the crew list, I (we) was (were) let back on the compound.

So it's Gaspirilla, and after 4+ years about hearing about how "crrrazy" things get, around nine, I decided to wander out and see what all this Gaspirilla was really all about. The CPA (Closest Point of Alcohol...Which is a play on a mariner's basic calculation regarding collision with andother vessle, namely, the Closest Point of Approach) was this infamous biker bar about 1/2 a mile away from the gate to the Port. With the excuse of "going to get a sandwich" I left the tug for the biker bar, and got my sandwich, but also ran into my Chief Mate and his wife/girl/mistress/whatever. She kept flashing me her tits and getting beads and the Chief kept buying me drinks. Jameson's and a beer of some green flavored bottle. Anyway, they went on their mery little way, ad I got bored with all the sagging, flower-tatoo'd biker-tits that were getting flashed at me. I was getting bored and realized that "hey! I'm Kinda drunk!" and that It was like eleven and I had a 6 hour watch to stand pretty quick. So I headed "home" to the Lisa.

A couple of doors down there was a Mexican (Cuban?) place and I decided that a plate full of refried beans and whatnot would make the transition from drunk to sober a little easier to take. This sliver of the evening is still a little hazy for me. But from what I remember, I went in, ordered some food, made a pass at the waitress and quickly found myself surrounded by the waitress's baby-daddy and friends or something and I decided to leave before anything BAD happened. I KNOW I left a twenty dollar bill on the counter, before I had even been served anything more than a glass or two of water, and stumbled outside. The manager was on top of me before I could even make it to the road. I could se the gates to the port from where I was wibbling and wobbling. BUt the manager was atop me and demanding payment for food I never even got and I told him that I had left cash on the counter...BUt he insisted he was calling the cops.

If it had been any other night, it could have been different. But I knew that because it was Gaspirilla, the cops were on double-triple overtime and were EVERYWHERE. The chances of me shambiling that last 1/4 mile to the gates without a cop showing up were next to nothing, so I lay down in the tall grass next to the sign for the joint and waited.

I'm sure it wasn't long, but I was out cold when the cop was flashing his light in my eyes and shaking me. We talked about the supposed skipping out on the bill. I told the dude that I had been threatened, and that I never even ate anything, and still left money on the counter. I pointed to the cubaxicans inside laughing at me and explained that they, surely, had taken the money I had left on the counter in order to avoid getting the shit kicked out of me. And this Tampa City Policeman believed me. He really did. But the manager was out there and he had to do something because the drunk guy is always wrong, Right? So I shelled out another $20.00 and the manager accepted it and the cop offered me a ride back to the Port of Tampa.

Now, up until this point, it was all still a typical night out for me. Nothing out of the ordinary, and the cop even let me ride up front with him to the port. Up until then he was still sympathetic, see? He understood I was just a drunken mariner Rube out on the wrong night. And then we get to the Port.

I know I said it before, but THIS is where the story REALLY starts.

I literally fall out of the cruiser. The cop comes around and walks me over to the fucking Security Guard. His name, I kid you not, was "officer Carl Butts" I have the paperwork to prove it. Anyway, the cop helps me over to Officer Butts and I show him my Merchant MAriner's card. I tell him which tug I was on. I POINT at my tug...It was maybe 200 yards away... He cross refrences my MMD (Merchant Marine Document) and the Crew list and verifies, in front of the cop that, indeed, everything is in order. BUt then Butts asks me for a "Port Pass". As I said, I'd been coming and going witout a port pass for about 2 weeks. Nobody on the ship had a "Port Pass" Those were for contractors without a MMD or foreign nationals who were in the Port. Now, it's about ten muinutes to 12, I'm 5 minutes late for my watch (watches change at a quarter to...) and I was getting a little agitated with Butts. I'm not one to be late for watch, drunken or not.

The cop was sympathetic. He tried to reason with Butts, especially after I explained that I'd been coming and going without a Port Pass. BUt I think Butts was new or something, and he was intransigent. Eventually, as midnight approached, the cop told me once, and twice that I was "trespassing" and that if he had to warn me a third time, he'd have to arrest me.

I looked at Carl...Pudgy and indignant and annoyed.

I looked at the cop, seemingly bored and apathetic (if not sympathetic...)

I judged the 200 yards to the Lisa.

I thought about past foot-chases where the cops couldn't really be bothered. Especially if they had to exert themselves or get sand in their boots.

I thought about the fact that a ship is a Sovereign Vessel and the police aren't allowed to cross the gang-way without an invite and that if I made it to the Lisa, it would involve the US coast Guard and all kinds of arcane maritime law paperwork that NOBODY wants to deal with.

I regarded it all, and when the cop told me again that if he had to warn me a third time, he's have to arrest me for trespassing. I thought my chances for making it to the Lisa were better than not. I made a break for it.

I didn't make it far before the cop started completely losing it. I chose to remember, up until that point I was very well behaved and defferential to him, because of the kindness and sympathy he'd afforded me. I KNOW I was a "little" pissy with officer Carl Butts, but I chose to think the cop thought that my angrification was deserved with the fat-assed noob. I believe I even told the cop about my salad days as a third-shift Sergent at RI hospital, knocking pistols ut of thig's hands with I.V. poles and whatnot during our brief ride to the Port gate. ( I tend to tell stories at times...)

But I think the cop thought he had it all under control, and that I was his vassal because of the cubexican negations. He certainly wasn't expecting me to make the break for the Lisa. HALT! He was yelling, or maybe it was STOP! or what ever it was, I didn't. I was adrenalized and clear-headed and my body was behaving exactly like I wanted it to. I was running through the tall grass, and skipping train-track junctions and I was almost out of range when I got hit.

I got hit in the left shoulder-blade with TAZER leads. I remember hearing the click-click-clicking sounds, and a vauge spasm in my left arm. I reached around with my right. I ripped the leads out of my skin and kept on running. By that time a second Tampa PD car had arrived and headed me off at the pass. I feigned like I was going to go around the front, and faked back to the aft of that cruiser. Before I knew it I was being beaten by lead-core polymer batons with my face in the gravel. I was hog-tied and lifted by both PD officers. They tried to shove me into a cruiser, but I was able to squirm around that my right shoulder and my feet kept me wedged outside of the car.

Aren't you going to read me my miranda? I was screaming. AND WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ARRESTING ME FOR ANYWAYS? WHAT ARE THE FUCKING CHARGES?

Take it form me, never yell at a cop. No matter how angry/drunk/late you are.

The formerly nice, sympathetic cop told me: "well, for starters, you've got a trespass charge on a federal property, which could end up as a Terrorism charge, as well as evading arrest and violent resisting".

"O.K." I told them. as I relaxed my right shoulder and my feet, which allowed them to pitch me into the back seat of the cruiser. My face smashed into the opposite door. "Will you read me my rights now?"

Which they promptly did. Which, being the smarmy wise-ass that I am, I tried to recite along with them. But the rights they read on ONE-ADAM 12 Or even LAW and ORDER aren't exactly the way the Tampa PD reads rights. I failed at what ever I was trying to accomplish, weather it was making it back to the ship, evading arrest or even just finding out what the hell Gaspirilla was all about in the first place.

THIS CONCLUDES THE "ARREST PART OF THE STORY. I HAVE BEEN EXHONERATED OF ALL CHARGES RELATED TO THIS PART OF THE EVENING. THE REAL SHIT HIT THE FAN WHEN I GOT TO LOCK-UP, BUT MY NEPHEW WAS JUST ACCOSTED BY POTENTIAL BURGLARS, JEHOVAH WITNESSES OR GIRLSCOUTS AND I NEED TO GO SIT WITH HIM WITH MY SHOTGUN ON MY KNEE UNTILL MY SISTER GETS HOME. I WILL FINISH THE STORY AND FINALLY REVEAL THE EVENTS THAT OCCURRED INSIDE THE HILLSBOROUGH COUNTY JAIL, AND SUBSUQUENTLY ORIENT ROAD JAIL WHEN TIME AND THE LACK OF NEED OF FAMILIAL DEFENSE PROVIDES. ALSO, I'M SORRY FOR THE COCKSLAP, BUT THE NEPHEW NEEDS ME, AND I'M NOT GOING TO RETYPE THIS LAST PARAGRAPH RIGHT NOW.

I'm loading .00 buck, just in case it was Jehovah's witnesses scaring the poor little kid..



TO BE CONTINUED....

Date: 2010-06-07 11:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hungryandhollow.livejournal.com
what the fuck

Date: 2010-06-08 02:42 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
wtf Is riggrt, Just wait until im sober enough for the second, more damning part of the story.

Date: 2010-06-08 12:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hepkitten.livejournal.com
this story delivers.

Date: 2010-06-08 02:44 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
please refer to the above.

Date: 2010-06-08 02:46 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hepkitten.livejournal.com
oh i know, im just sayin, already, this story delivers.

Date: 2010-06-08 05:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
Please and thanks, Hep...

Date: 2010-06-08 12:18 am (UTC)
ext_35267: (Shocking)
From: [identity profile] wlotus.livejournal.com
Note to self: never run from cops, even if the cops were previously polite. Got it.

Date: 2010-06-08 05:29 am (UTC)

Date: 2010-06-08 01:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] girliebacchanal.livejournal.com
holy shitballs.

Date: 2010-06-08 02:47 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
This ain;t nothing. If I'm sober tomorrow, I;ll finish the story,

Date: 2010-06-08 02:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] snatchbeast.livejournal.com
Watching COPS has taught me that running is never a good idea.

And crazy girls are always bad news.

Date: 2010-06-08 02:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
Tazers are never as bad as they sound Chasing after crazy chicks, however, is worse than itS Sounds. Sorry for you...my favorite bad-ass

Date: 2010-06-08 03:10 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] snatchbeast.livejournal.com
I've been cattle prodded but never tazed.

As a crazy chick that tries to be baggage-free, I appreciate those who like us.

Date: 2010-06-08 05:08 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
I BELIEVE I've been both cattle-prodded and Tazed. The cattle prod, if memory serves, os worse.

Also, Your icon is perfeck.

Date: 2010-06-08 07:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] snatchbeast.livejournal.com
The cattle prodding sucked, for sure. Can't wait to get tazed!

Date: 2010-06-08 08:17 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
I Believe that if we both endured the tourture, we'd never know the differene.

Date: 2010-06-08 04:32 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
I DID piss on an electric fence once. Knocked me on my ass. Knocked a motorcycle boot off my foot and left me with piss-soaked jeans. It didn't really hurt though.

I remember this because the girl I was with at the time just face-booked me. She TOLD me it was an electric fence, but because they only operate in pulses, I picked the "off" pulse to touch the thing and called bullshit. Then I took a leak. And ended up as above. She still laughs about it.

Date: 2010-06-08 02:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mengus.livejournal.com
well worth the waiting. now finish it you drunk fucker. lol

Date: 2010-06-08 02:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
yeah, I'm too drunk to tell about what happened in LOCK UP> But I'll sober enough tomorrow. I think. The shit I did in LOCK UP was much worse. Hense: the three FELONY charges. I just hope the live up to your expectations...

Date: 2010-06-08 02:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mengus.livejournal.com
i just love your storytelling, ya bastard. the craziness of the story is pretty much secondary to the way you tell it, though you do have some wild-ass experiences.

Date: 2010-06-08 04:35 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
At this point, I'd rather have your "stability" and responsibility than my wild-ass life. This shit is for youngsters. At 40, I cant fite cars on the highway anymore. I want a house and kids that love me. But don't tell anyone.

Date: 2010-06-08 11:41 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mengus.livejournal.com
i'd be happy with a steady lay, dude.

Date: 2010-06-08 04:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
I also want to know how to make your Icons.

Date: 2010-06-08 07:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] zeldakitty.livejournal.com
However, at 40, you can make animated gifs, friend:

http://gickr.com/

Date: 2010-06-08 07:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
I'm still mystified, even though you've tried to help me before. I'm justhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KK2zYgZcP2k going to fax you a bunch of pictures and count on you to make GIF's out of them.

SRS, though. When came I come visit? I need a good meal at Ralph's, and it's Crayfish season. And I love fucking shooting people, and it seems like I could do plenty of that in your neighborhood.

Hardcore,
riding crop and ball gag,
XOXO.

Max.

It's fucking hot here...

Date: 2010-06-08 09:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] zeldakitty.livejournal.com
I forget about the sweltering, oppressive heat when I actually have to get out and WALK in it. I just walked to the med school and back (a whopping six blocks) and feel like I'm about to die. Anyway, about an impending visit... It's easier to tell you the times you CAN'T visit... That would be from August 27 - September 9. Though I couldn't actually stop you from visiting on those dates, I will be at a week long dirt rave in the desert forgetting as best I can, exactly how old I am. Any other time is gravy. I might possibly have to go to Atlanta weekend after next. And as I'm sure you know, the closer to August/September, the more unpredictably interesting the weather may prove to be. I had bugs two weeks ago and they were amazing, boiled by a bunch of refined Cajuns from bumfuck LA... they're not oily yet. And heavens, I can't wait til you're picking off my neighbors!

Re: It's fucking hot here...

Date: 2010-06-08 09:57 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] zeldakitty.livejournal.com
stupid formatting bullshit, I actually DO know how and when to break a paragraph. For some reason, when I came in to reply from email, and logged in with this comment, it shot it all to hell!

Date: 2010-06-08 11:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mengus.livejournal.com
i search for whatever image want, crop & resize it in ACDSee photo canvas, then aminate it with microsoft .gif animator (if it's an animated one).

Date: 2010-06-08 10:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mallorys-camera.livejournal.com
Brilliant.

What I wish most devoutly isa three month window outside of time --maybe you can find that old Twilight Zone stopwatch -- where you do nothing but write.

I mean it's note perfect. It needs editing. But it's very, very good.

I never edit.

Date: 2010-06-08 01:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
Also, I'd immediately break my spectacles.

Date: 2010-06-08 12:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] darkbay.livejournal.com
Whoa! Your stories always get me. Damn you for leaving us hangin'. Bet your ass I'm tuning in for the next installment.

Date: 2010-06-08 01:41 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
Yeah I'm on Vacation and have a glass of Vodka on my left, and a glass of iced-tea on my right. I'm trying to throw EVERYTHING in my apartment away before I give the truck back...Vodka all day or getting stories told and throwing things away...Hmmm...

Date: 2010-06-08 06:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] qp4.livejournal.com
They mix well you know.

Date: 2010-06-08 06:28 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
TELL ME SOMETHING I DIDN'T FORCE MYSELF INTO HOURS AGO.

Sorry for the cockslap. Are you stateside? even if not, what is your telephone number. It's drunk and lonely on shore leave. I don't believe we've ever talked, and you deserve a good talking to, young man!

Date: 2010-06-09 11:47 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] qp4.livejournal.com
I don't have a working telephone right now, I'm in the Himalayas. Well not really, more like the foothills, but it makes for a much better story.

I'm about done with la Estados Unitos. If I had my way it would be for visits of about ten days, about once a year. Oh wait, I am having my way.

Date: 2010-06-08 12:55 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ninjastyle.livejournal.com
I actually shouted at the monitor when I read the last paragraph. Like when you see a really good cliffhanger at the end of a TV show. Haha.

You tell the best stories. Seriously.

Date: 2010-06-08 02:03 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
No Spoilers here, but you're probably expecting more than I have in store.

Unless you've never been in Lock-up.

Maybe this will tide you over: http://saltdawg.livejournal.com/49047.html

Date: 2010-06-08 01:32 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] laurachicken.livejournal.com
Holy crap.

I lived in Tampa 6 years and never knew what Gasparilla was AND NOW I STILL DONT KNOW. THANK YOU.

Looking forward to part 2.

Are you aware that I HATE tampa?

Date: 2010-06-08 02:05 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
Gaspirilla=Biker chick's tits and beads. And booze. End of story.

Also, Ybor has cameras on every lamp-post now.

Re: Are you aware that I HATE tampa?

Date: 2010-06-08 07:49 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] laurachicken.livejournal.com
Its not great, but its better than Orlando. Some trees, less traffic, less tourists.

So I guess I didn't miss anything, not goign to Gasparilla?

I was in Ybor for Halloween last year (did you see those pics?) and noticed the cameras. I wasn't doing anythign wrong but it was... unsettling.

(This post isn't friend-locked. Do you want it to be? )

Re: Are you aware that I HATE tampa?

Date: 2010-06-08 08:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
Freind-book pix? Yes.

Orlando is very confusing. And the ONE thai place that was on iPkone AND GPS sucked. Have I told you this already? Your phone #vis carved in SHARPIE into a pair of my jeans, and all my shipmates always ask "who's Laura?", and always try to call you.

If they have, let me know ad I'll kick some ass.

Re: Are you aware that I HATE tampa?

Date: 2010-06-09 01:07 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] laurachicken.livejournal.com
Yes, it is. I get lost all the time and I've lived here 7 years (my god I need to move). There's a Thai place I know of that's pretty good- Royal Thai off of Semoran Blvd. (436) in East Orlando. Many others I've been to outright suck.

You never told me about the jeans. I get some strange calls, but mostly from people who don't speak any english, nobody wanting to actually talk to me. And crap, if you're wearing pants with my number on them, why don't you call me more? :P
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