I once knew a guy, a very close friend of mine at the time, who ate 15 “Big Macs” at one sitting. It occurred very late at night after an evening of drinking and debauchery. It was a small bet to start with to see how far he could go as he loved “Big Macs” but the challenge progressed nonsensically as we kept egging him on. Great fun! He did it although a wee bit pail at the end of it all.
Those were carefree days, as all days are carefree when you are young. And those burgs only cost 49 cents each back then. Not too sure if he ever touched another one after that though. I do think that he is a vegan today.
I can still see in my mind’s feeble eye this same guy being dragged down a set of stairs by his shirt collar by a tall buxom blonde Norwegian gal who truly was an Amazon Olympian at 6 feet and some. Very athletic and as my friend tells it later the next day – very ambidextrous, triple jointed.
This blatant kidnapping occurred at a Country and Western club that we called the “Hug and Slug”- a colloquial term for “The Army, Navy and Air Force Club, so called by all the WESTPAC Widows that frequented this abode. An appropriate name I can tell you. WESTPAC Widows were those women married to sailors who were deployed from home in the Western Pacific operating areas for very long periods of time. To normalize, these widows would frequent this Country and Western Bar every Friday and Saturday night for a bit of dancing fun and then some. And we, being the young and restless lads that we were, naive thank God and wet behind the ears, were navy recruits who were alone from home for the very first time and were delighted to provide the required entertainment for we yearned for motherly comfort. This was also a time when very long hair was the fashionable norm so we, with our newbie brushed and navy white-walled haircuts, were social outcasts as the saying goes especially at the bars, the discos and the dance halls of this parochial port town. Yes we would tempt our fate from time to time and test our sense of belonging and manhood at these discotheques but after striking out early we would all head down to the ole “Hug and Slug” to test the waters. It never disappointed.
Country and Western clubs are extremely down to earth, value oriented, and patriotic old fashioned but all welcoming fun. We would end up having a great time there to the wee hours dancing with these widows to such memorable tunes such as “All My Exes Live in Texas.” Or the equally memorable and nostalgic “Ten Tall Beers with a Shooter of Whiskey is all it Took.” Great stuff! A good time was had by all for these women could not have cared less about our appearance. As long as we had some hair on the top of our heads, was all that mattered. And my friend? Battered and bruised by the pounding he took on those stairs and, helpless as he was, had a very big smile on his face for he knew his fate. She, a determined and predatory look if I ever saw one and, as I recall, entirely attuned to her prey and purring ” You’re coming home with me sonny boy.”
“Oooooookay! He whimpered. To us. “See ya!”
Good fun. Too bad with all the rot these days that people forget just how much fun there is in this world.
 George Strait