So there I was, but now I am not because I am here and I am always someplace all the time. Well, anyway I have ventured out again on another sojourn, and hooked up with a bunch of ex-boat sailors in Ft. Pierce, and there we were, but now we are not, so we ended up someplace else, but not together, so here we are and I was born at a very early age. (But that is another story.)
Those of us who have decided to be part-time sub sailors at the expense of our muscles, backs, brains and various other parts of our anatomy which we seem determined to abuse or bruise for whatever our own private reasons are, have gathered back here in CAYO WASTE-O like the swallows of San Juan Capistrano, (that is in California for those who don't know or are geographically challenged, and for those who don't care, just keep reading and don't say anything!!!!!!!!!!!)
So Monday the first day of week, (but you already knew that) since there were at that time 4 warm, although somewhat brain dead bodies here. It was decided that we would put the secondary tow line on the boat. Now that seems like an easy enough task, however I think we must have all had a real serious attack of STOOOOOOOOOOpid or else we forgot our medication, because the towline is 300 feet long and weighs in at a cool 2 tons, that's right ladies and gentlemen, 4000 pounds. WHAT THE H _ _ _ WERE WE THINKING??????????, Well with a little engenuity, (I know it is spelled wrong, I was just making sure you were paying attention) we managed with no more than 3 sore backs, 1 smashed finger, and 4 bruised ankles to actually get the cable on the deck where we had to put it.
Along comes Tuesday and we have some more people show up referred to in the future as MAINE-E-ACS, yes that is all one word. We are now below decks for the next 3 days turning ourselves into a pretzel and going where no human has gone before, at least not in the last 30 years and getting ourselves poked, stabbed, cut and otherwise abused, not to mention the shock therapy which helps keep the pacemaker going. Oh, I failed to mention the fact that we were tracing out parts of the subs electrical system (THAT WERE STILL ENERGIZED) and just having an ELECTRIFYING time, OH YEAH, UH HUH, UH HUH. Well, we got that figured out. Now it is Friday and time to go back up topside and set the tow line. This meant taking that 2ton cable, putting it over the side of the boat and putting it in bolt on, tear away clips. By this time there are now about 9 of us stumbling all over ourselves trying to keep this cable from becoming an offering to the sea gods. We all managed to keep the cable where it should be, however in the process yours truly managed to smash my left hand and 3 of the fingers, (nothing serious folks, the Dr. says with years of therapy, I may even be able to play the piano again) and just slightly scuff up the right hand.
So now we are into the second week of this somewhat controlled insanity and I am working with this other LUNATIC MAINE-E-AC, one of the afore mentioned whose name is Roger Ramjet, (hey, I am not making this stuff up), and between the 2 of us we are getting into places nobody would believe and fixing lighting that has not been touched by the human hand for a minimum of 30+ years. Of course a few times it was touch and go, we thought that we might need to get our mail forwarded, get a box of Depends and have sandwiches delivered. We managed to get all the lights fixed and in the process managed to impale ourselves in several different areas of our bodies, in the process parts of the submarine have also been adjusted to allow for humans to go where others might (we could tell somebody had been there because of the BONES) have gone before. We also managed to pull wire and get the I C panel, that is SUB TALK for (INTERIOR COMMUNICATIONS) in the control room, the diving and collision alarms, and the 1 MC (that is the interior loudspeaker system, you know where the guy comes on and says this is your captain speaking or "NOW HEAR THIS"), isn't that exciting, I know YAWNNNNNNNNNNN, all working.
Of course during this entire time, we had to enter and exit through the forward torpedo room where this cantankerous old chief named Tony the Torpedoman continually yelled at us for SCREWING up his torpedo room while he was trying to clean and paint it.
Well Ramjet left on Thursday am of the second week and I have to crawl literally into the BRA 11 (I know, Bra’s start at A and go up, well in the Navy, Bra size is determined in a different manner, so live with it) well and twist myself into a pretzel so I can remove 3 transformers that have been stacked on top of each other in a confined space that defies description. I have pictures to prove that I was in the well, however they could only take a head shot (and you have no idea how hard it is to work when you are messing with a BRA) easy there you perverts, remember that is Navy jargon, anyway then the other picture is of my legs, could not see my feet, they were down in the well. So I am in the well working like a surgeon with the Right Reverend Mahvin (he conducted evening revivals at the CHURCH OF THE V F W) as my scrub nurse and a Maine-e-ac in the closet where I am telling him what to do because all he can see is my head, (yes folks, a real live talking head) and did I remember to mention that each transformer weighs in at about 250 pounds. Now this would be no easy task in an open area, but working in an area the size of a monopoly board definitely puts a strain on the working conditions. So we get the first one loose and then I have to jockey this thing around and get it to the hole where I came in on my back to get into this place to begin with while it is hanging on a rope held by two other guys on the other side of the hole and suspended from a hydraulic line. (and to add to the thrill of it all, I cannot see them and they cannot see me which makes it all that much more interesting) Well I explained to the guys holding the rope that they should not let go. If that were to happen in the position that I was standing while taking the transformer apart, I would be forced to sing soprano in the church choir. Well, the good news is that I did not have to forward my mail, no depends were required and I am not singing soprano and the three transformers came out, BUT not without a certain amount of parts of several languages being spoken.
So I decided that since this all happened on a Friday and I had been invited to a chili cookoff, (stick with me, this all ties together), anyway I took a ½ day on Saturday and went to Cudgoe key for the cookoff, had a lot of good food and unfortunately drank some vodka which did not seem to go with the chili. So home I hurry to drive the porcelain bus for four hours much to the glee and entertainment of the other 2 guys who are staying in this townhouse where I have been moved to, so when I woke up the next morning they both bowed and welcomed back KING RALPH to the living.
After all the hoorahs, guffaws, various other obscene comments during the celebration, off to the submarine we go to pressure clean and then paint. So I start to pressure clean the turtle back, (that is the part of the sub at the back, but not part of the superstructure, you need a picture to understand) and not being at a 100% I managed to slip and shoot myself in the leg with the needle point of a 4000 pound pressure cleaner, well girls and boys you just have no idea what that is like, it did not hurt that much, but my pride was really damaged and then it only got better when I got off the sub to go bandage up my ankle, I turned off the pressure cleaner, gas operated and burnt 3 of my fingers on the exhaust manifold. (now altogether, BOY ARE YOU STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPID) Thank you very much. Anyway the good news is that King Ralph should only walk with a limp for the next 4 or 5 years and the fingers will be fine as soon as the blistering goes down.
Well, the work party ended and we all hobbled, drove or flew back to wherever it was we came from, but like the Governor of California said,"We'll be back," cause that's right folks, we're going to PHILADELPHIA, taking the submarine up there, so that will be the next trip. From CAYO WASTE-O, home of the conch, to Philly, home of the cheese steak.
Stay tuned for more adventures of KING RALPH
