Burracho-a-Go-Go.

Steel Reserve is some evil shit.

Spent the afternoon at the Embarcadero marina in downtown San Diego with my friend Jeff and a retired old vet named Slim who wove his witty tales of life in the military circa the early 1970's. Hilarious antidotes of whorehopping the Orient. I really love a great adventure story. Especially when they're dirty. We sat at a dung covered picnic table, watching the boats float, gabbing, downing a twelve pack of Steel Reserve.

Now for you uneducated snooty faggots that sip mint juleps and giggle at bubbly, let me reiterate. Steel Reserve is some evil shit. This beer will fuck you up. Quick. Plastered. Drunk. Intoxicated. Belligerent. Yelling flagrant and filthy remarks at passing seagulls. Lewdly eyeing passing boys with skateboards, mumbling sexual antidotes. Uh oh, can't fag out in front of these two, gotta cut.

Must leave, I stated as the sun set over Coronado Island. Lit a Lucky Strike. Stumbled out of Embarcadero Park and made my way to Horton Plaza, that six story eyesore of a trendy mall. On the top level, tottering and watching the stars twinkle in a blue velvet sky. So beautiful. So serene.

"Hey. What ship you assigned to?"

I turned and saw a guy standing next to me and seemed in my fucked up mind a dead ringer for a younger Harry Connick Jr. He wore the white sea uniform of a Navy recruit. Nice pecs. He said again in southern drawl, "What ship ya assigned to, ship mate?"

"The Enterprise." I smiled.

He stared and smiled and I tottered, "I'm kidding. I'm not in the military."

"Oh. My mistake." He extended his hand. "Hi. Louis Kowalski, I'm stationed on the U.S.S. Arizona. This is my first time in San Diego."

It might of been the beer talking, but he was hot. Hot in a white boy well toned Navy uniformed kind of way. Ya dig? And as any red blooded faggot, a sucker for a man in uniform.

Well, small patter and chit-chat ensued and we both found our selves at the Star Bar, a local tavern for local scum bags. Japanese war brides served beer with a sneer and ancient and young military swooped about, playing pool and patting backs. The Jar-head paid for round after round of domesticated cervesas and I started to get a good buzz on. More beer guzzled and as I went to relieve myself his intentions were made clear as I saw him checking out what I got at the urinal.

"Whachu lookin' at?" I slurred, with a hint of coyness.

"Not bad." He smiled. Then those dreamy brown eyes of his gave me that look. And we all know the look. Transcends any form of verbal communication.

Well, beer was downed, doors flung open and the sidewalk rushed under our feet. Laughing all the way to the Hotel Pickwick, that sleazy twenty-dollar-a-night trap on Broadway for a little hoodily-hoo.

Boy flung me on the bed like a sack of taters, tongues wrestled, clothes flung about, orifices and protuberances probed and sucked. This guy sure was liberal with the tongue action. Rim jobs a specialty. Penis lubed, condom attached, and ahhhhhhhhh shiiiiit! Was fucked fore and aft whilst on my stomach with such force and passion that I thought my spine was going to snap. Back bit up, the familiar slap-slapping of skin on skin. Pillows and sheets a mess. Erection quivers and can feel the pulsing of his semen being shot into the rubber. Now I know how it feels to be a Filipino Whore. Not thirty seconds after he glides off of my soaked torso, I ask if he wants to return to the bar for more drinks.

"No can do, baby. I gotta return to the ship, we sail out tomorrow."

I lie there with sore and throbbing asshole as I hear his boots clomp down the hall to the elevator.

Took a shower, watched some Green Acres, (Mr. Haney, you funny old rascal!) and then returned to Vinnies and flopped into my bunk.

Come to think of it, Steel Reserve is some fucking good beer. Will try it again.