The Nautical Inn

   I spend a lot of time in Door County Wisconsin. It's a pleasant area and I really like being in the woods. A group of friends, family, and myself were spending a long weekend there during the winter a few years back and we made good on an idea we've been planning for quite a while. We went bar hoping down main street in Sturgeon Bay. The irony one discovers is in the way beers get little by little more expensive as you move west starting at Bud's, the Red Room and down to the most expensive being the Nautical Inn. There's a direct correlation to the quality of beer selections available as well. As an example; at Bud's 12 people get a beer in their hand for $8, and by the time you get to the Nautical Inn we're on separate tabs.
    In our bar hop evening we make it all the way down to the Nautical Inn. We all file in and order a round of Bell's Two Hearted Ale. I leave my beer on the bar and run to the bathroom. I had to go #2 suddenly and time was definitely a factor. In the mens room I find 2 stalls. One is out of order so I go to the other and it appears functional. I take a nasty ass dump, the kind I'm famous for, and flush. Wipe and drop it in and realize it isn't going down. The toilet isn't clogged. It's the situation where the water fills slowly and rises right up to the brim in a slow nasty brown water rotation. Looks nasty. I start to panic. There's no plunger. "What do I do" I ask myself. I choose the only viable option, sneak out.
       The bar is small. The bathroom door faces the bar and is only about 10 feet back from it. My friends are standing nearby and have my beer. As I approach they go to hand me my beer and I, quickly and deliberately, say "We gotta go". "what? Why?" I'm asked. Before I can get a single word out a country looking dude walks out of the bathroom and yells across the whole bar "Who just took a deuce?!!!!" the entire bar, crowded, goes silent. He yells again "Who just took a deuce?!!!" No one makes a peep. I connect eyes with my buddy Nick as he raises his glass to his mouth and chugs his beer down. He turns and connects glances with my dad who's at the far end of the bar. Nick raises his index finger and makes a horizontal circle motion to signify that we need to wrap things up. My dad nods. As we all walk out my dad looks at the group and asks "Which one uh'you assholes?" We all bust up laughing.

*My deepest apologies go to the good people at the Nautical Inn. They didn't deserve that.

Roy and his toy

 Some of you may know that while I was stationed at the Oak Island Coast Guard Station it burned down. Right down to the ground. Luckily, I was on leave at the time. Well, with it went our medical records and those needed to be replaced. This meant we all had to go get a physical at a Coast Guard Health office about an hour drive away. We went in groups of 5 and the first group was myself along with the usual suspects, Billie Ward, SN Roy, Hartfield, and another guy. This is a great example of how troublemakers aren't out causing trouble, we walk into it blindly.
    We get to this clinic and all sit down in the waiting room which is directly across from the only exam room in the clinic. The doctor, a women in her mid to late 70's, with hair so grey it looks blue, announces to the group that she'll see us one at a time and we should all be done in about an hour. First up is Seaman Roy, a short guy who can be a little up tight and professional at times, he was a reservist who was placed back on active duty as the Iraq war was getting started which put on hold his job at a local grocery store. He is led back to the exam room and the door is shut behind him. We wait patiently. After about fifteen minutes we hear someone fall to the floor. It's loud, like, someone really ate shit in there. A few minutes pass as we silently wonder what happened. Roy walks out and sits down in the waiting room with us. He says nothing, looking straight ahead and his face is beet red. Something definitely happened in there. Billie and I lean in and discreetly ask the question that's on everyones mind. "What the fuck happened dude"? He immediately becomes very animated as he describes the situation involving a hernia exam. For the sake of those who don't know what that involves, basically the doctor holds your balls and asks you to cough. In this case the elderly doctor had Roy stand up on a very small step stool and pull his pants all the way down to his ankles. He said her hand was so freezing cold that it jolted him, causing him to lose his balance and with his feet tied together by his pants down and the small area in which he was standing caused him to fall to the floor taking the doctor to the ground with him. Naked from the waist down with his sausage flopping all over this poor women as he rolls around on the floor trying to pull his pants up and regain control of the situation. Both Roy and the doctor were very embarrassed. There was a good half hour before the next person was brought back. The small stool was kept in the corner during the following exams which were notably awkward.

Free Injury Screening

   


A few years back I suffered an overuse injury as a result of over training for a marathon. I usually end up with some sort of running injury every year, but this particular injury didn't feel like most. The pain was just above my ankle on the front of my leg. I couldn't run down the block let alone 26.2 miles of a marathon. Over the following couple of weeks I made up my cardio work on the trusty elliptical machine at the gym. Right around the time frustration turns into desperation I received an email from my favorite running store, Dick Pond Athletics. The email outlined several sales going on at the time but it also advertised a free injury screening to be hosted by the good people at Athletico, a physical therapy and sports medicine place nearby. Perfect, I thought, I can get an idea of how long this will hurt and adjust my running accordingly. If only it had been that easy, you see, there's always free cheese in a mouse trap. Like a Swedish schoolboy I walk into the store happy to be there. They had me write my name on a clipboard and wait to be called. The screenings were happening right in the running store. A few awkward minutes of browsing and my name is called. I walk over to find the Athletico employee and completely lose any ability to speak. This women could've been a playboy centerfold. She wasn't a ten, she was a 20. She had blonde hair flowing all wavy like, she was thin and fit as hell with a set of canons, she was ridiculously hot. Of course I'm fumbling around looking completely foolish. She asks "where does it hurt"? It took every ounce of me to hold it together and tell her. She has me sit on a chair and take my shoe off. She squats down and picks up my foot by the heel and begins examining it. She's unknowingly rubbing my foot all over her boob. I just about hit the ceiling. The longer she massaged her breasts while examining my foot the further I was crawling up out of the chair. I was not prepared for this. My foot was rubbed across every inch of that breast. Had I gone in there under the pretense that I'd be feeling up the hottest woman on earth with my foot I probably would've been a little better equipped to handle it or ,more likely, avoid the whole thing. Your boy was looking dumb. I got played by a running store. I wish, now, that I could watch that situation play out. The look on my face. No longer relevant, but I had a shin splint right above my ankle.

*I'm not trying to objectify women at all. This is only meant to be comedy. Sorry if I offend anyone.

Surprise, you have a lot of running to do!

 



    Yesterday I received an email confirming my entry into the Chicago Marathon. My registration comes through the general lottery system that the marathon had put in place a few years ago. As I read through the confirmation email I was reminded of a Christmas day practical joke I pulled on my mom but the prank somehow ended up epically turning on my sister and brother in law in the process. It was a Christmas miracle  Let's review.
     The first weekend of December is an important time for me because the Fox Valley Marathon hosts their early registration event. At the time I was still very much trying to show the people around me that running is really important for your health and well being. I still feel that way, you may have heard me say "Running is my Religion". My mom has always been an active person. She rides her bike all the time and all sorts of other things too. She was talking, at the time, about doing some kind of athletic event to train for and improve her health but she has a bad knee so running really isn't in her wheel house.
     On Christmas morning my family exchanges gift like most of us do. For the Christmas gift exchange, however, my family draws names out of a hat and that's the person you buy a gift for, and as well, we put something in each others stockings. It's simple and it works. Well, this particular year I drew my mom's name from the hat. Expectedly, my mom said she wanted a bath robe from some high end store she frequents. I ordered it online. When it arrived I wrapped it real nice and set it aside. I also took the confirmation email sent to me by the Fox Valley Marathon and changed the pertinent information to my mom's name and address, printed that out and wrapped it in a smaller box.
     Christmas morning came and she is handed the fake gift. She holds it with much trepidation. She had to know something was up. She unwraps the box and pulls out this sheet of paper. Briefly scans the document and then asks me what it is. I respond "I signed you up for the Marathon! You were talking about doing something. Boom! I'll help you train and run it with you." She is immediately sent into a full blown hot flash. While fanning herself with the paper as her face turns bright red my sister yells "she can't even walk up a flight of stairs! You think she's running a marathon!" Her husband, Kevin, says "Sure you can, Kate and I will run it too! We were just talking about running." That's when Kate says "I wanted to have a kid next year!" and he says "What!!!" He was as shocked as the rest of us were overcome with laughter.
      I reassured my mom that it was a joke and she was not signed up for any marathon, presented her with the real gift, and she was pleased. She did take a moment to step out into the winter air to cool off and the following December we had a nephew.
   

Desk top Stapler

    The other day I ran into a guy I had gone to high school with, Ricky. He's always been a great guy and happens to be best friends with this other guy, Brett, who lived a block away from myself growing up. We chatted for a moment and he mentioned how he and Brett were "just talking about me". I can't imagine how it is that I would come up in conversation so I asked "about what"? He quickly responds "The stapler, Brett still has his". I shake my head to the fact that it's been 17 years and this still comes up. He went on to remind me how funny that was and I agreed faithfully.
    Back in my junior year of high school I had this part time job at Sears hardware. One evening I was tasked with cleaning out an area in the warehouse that was seldom used. Upon doing so I stumbled upon a big box full of desk top staplers that had been forgotten about for some time and long since discontinued. The manager makes a quick announcement that if any employee wants one they are 10 cents a piece and then we'll mark them to $1 for any interested customers. I reach in my pocket to reveal a crumpled up one dollar bill and say "I guess I'll take all ten".
    The next day I brought all ten staplers with me to school. My first class was this strange 2 period long English and History class. One teacher would teach English and another would teach History in the second hour. Neither teacher liked me personally. I passed out the staplers amongst friends in class. We were slowly making our way into the first hour when very suddenly a police officer walks in. He addresses the class that he's looking for me. The history teacher, Mr. Sullivan, promptly points me out to him. "Pete, why don't you get all the staplers back from your little buddies and come with me" he says firmly. The staplers are frantically handed back to me and I am escorted from class. He walks me to the police liaison office, sits me down, and asks "Where did you get all these staplers"? I told him very simply "I bought them".
Cop- do you have a receipt?
Me- Not with me
Cop- hmm, because it looks like you stole them.
Me- I work there
Cop- Well, where do we go from here?
Me- Why don't you just call them?
  He gets the phone from his desk and I provide him with the phone number. This really whacky and high strung lady who worked the customer service desk answers. The cop delicately says he has a student in possession of about ten staplers and is quickly cut off by her boastful and completely ecstatic "Pete!! Yeah, we sold him those. Ten cents each so he bought the whole box!"
   He had the dumbest look on his face as we both heard that coming from the phone. He thanked her and hung up the phone, turns to me and says "So what now"? I made it back to class right before the end of the second hour and gave everyone back their stapler. My legacy was made that day.
    The history teacher called the cops on me.

My Last Day Working at Chase

             I worked at Chase for 7 years in the credit card services department.  It was awful.  The people that I worked with were a unique bunch. They had to put a policy in place because people would make popcorn at 7am, making the entire floor smell like it.  They had a rule that you couldn't have lunch at your desk, only a snack. The difference, after much litigation, is that a snack doesn't require a utensil. There's a mountain of bullshit I could happily outline for you but I'd rather we get right to it. 
              My last day was March, I don't know what day, 2014. On my last day I did what any respectable employee of a monolithic-peasant-fuck-machine would do and I put a microwavable popcorn pack in the microwave and turned it on high for as long as the piece of shit would go for and walked away.  
               I waited at my desk for about an hour before I would dare walk past the breakroom again.  There were several ladies standing outside of the breakroom muttering obscenities.  The smell was horrible.  You could cut the smell with a spoon, if you were allowed to have one at your desk.  Below you'll find the play by play I sent my brother via text.  It was great.

Pete:

Run to work, check

Burn popcorn, pending

Seth:

Ha ha

Pete:

Popcorn, check

Seth:

So what happened?  Any reactions?

Pete:

I just started it and walked away

Seth:

Ha ha

Pete:

5 min on high

I smell popcorn

Seth:

Ha

Pete:

No mass email yet

Oh shit

It stinks

Seth:

Ha ha

Pete:

Everyone's talking about it!

5 min is the magic number to burn popcorn

The whole floor smells bad

Seth:

I'm cracking up over here

Pete:

Good thing I didn't put it all the way to 6 min

Seth:

Ha ha

Pete:

This place is fucked

Seth:

Is it really that bad?

Pete:

I'm two isles from the farthest away

And it's strong 

Seth:

Ha ha

Pete:

I got one more pack

Seth:

Oh man

Pete:

I'll drop that one down stairs

Seth:

Yes

Pete:

Too bad I can't upper deck* the joint

Seth:

Oh man

Seth:

Any updates?

Pete:

No

The smell is clearing up

*an upper decker is when one goes number 2 into the tank of a toilet.

K1000

Sitting on the bookshelf behind me is a Pentax K1000. It’s a 35mm film camera that was made quite a long time ago. I bought the camera while in photography class back in high school. My dad took me to a camera swap meet where I paid a hefty $65 dollars for it and with an otherwise D average, I was proudly earning an A in photography. All of these years later and the camera is still working just fine. Where’s all these great photos you ask, well, I brought the camera with me to my first unit in the Coast Guard. I joined the Coast Guard for an adventure, as many kids my age had, but I had a passion for photography and a genuine desire to capture the next four years. I quickly earned the reputation on the ship for being the guy always taking pictures. Looking at this camera now I can recall so many times I was told to put it away. So many eye rolls and the all too often “Not now” as it was heard through the passageways of the USCGC Mobile Bay. A 140’ tug boat built for breaking ice on the Great Lakes. It also had a barge with a large crane used for pulling buoys out of the water every fall and replacing them with much smaller buoys that could handle the harsh environment of a frozen Lake Michigan, 173 in total. I began documenting every aspect of life aboard the ship.

      There was so many incredible moments that unfolded on that ship that I’m grateful that I had that camera in my hand. Like the time I smuggled it on a CG helicopter by stuffing it in my drysuit where I was able to photograph the entire training day from the back seat. Reaching out over the airman as he hoisted the basket from the water and hanging it from the ceiling of the helo while it was my turn to get in the water. On another occasion I would document several crew members chainsawing out a 20ft square in the ice, several feet thick, and then as the tug boat, tied to it, would pull it out of the water. The entire ice shelf shook violently as it lifted out of the water and slid away scaring the shit out of us as we stood on the ice, mere feet away. The ice block weighed over 5000 lbs by a later estimate. We went swimming in the fridged waters and called it “training”. When an icebreaker stops in the ice the water freezes so fast that it's immediately safe to lower a ladder and walk out on the ice. Of course with the serious events also came the less serious, like, the time we went clay shooting off the stern smack in the center of Lake Michigan and then jumped off the 03 deck (the highest point on the ship) into the water as a morale outing. Once I snuck out on the bridge wing to get a shot of the captain while we passed beneath the famous Mackinac Bridge. I, to this day, believe he knew what I was doing and waited until the shutter snapped to yell at me thus satisfying the Executive officer (the bad cop in all situations). The Coast Guard used one of my photos in a training aid, it was of a lone seat cushion floating in still waters far from land. The fishing boat it belonged to was never found despite our surface search radar and a week of an expanding circle search pattern. The ships radar could locate a toilet paper tube 3 miles away and that was all that was found. I was shooting a roll of film a week for two straight years on that ship.

      My photo collection along with all my negatives were lost when my second duty station, Small Boat Station Oak Island, burned down. I walked away from photography for almost 5 years after that. There were so many opportunities for me to mail home or drop off the negatives, or copies of everything, but I didn’t.