As you know, December 7th is Pearl Harbor Day. Savannah, Georgia has a tradition of inviting a Navy ship to be a guest for their remembrance of "a day that will live in infamy". My ship, a newly commissioned Burke Class destroyer was so honored with this invitation that year.
If you have never visited Savannah, you should go. The city is truly a jewel of the antebellum south. Legend has it that the city leaders met General William Tecumseh Sherman at the edge of the city and offered to surrender in exchange for his army not leveling it, like he had done along every part of his so called march towards the sea. General Sherman accepted this surrender and offered her as a gift to President Lincoln. This could be historically inaccurate, but I'm going with it because it's pretty epic.
Savannah is breathtaking in its beauty. The city planners designed parks to be liberally spaced between the ornate homes that were built mostly during the early nineteenth century. These homes have been lovingly maintained by their owners and have a charm that is hard to find in a nation filled with suburbs and McMansions. These charms are covered quite well in the book "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil". I highly recommend this book (screw that movie though, blah).
A contingent of my shipmates participated in the parade marking the anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. The ship's officers were wined and dined by such organizations as The Daughters of the Confederacy and the like. I was content to just wander this city and take in all the beauty she had to offer. I, of course, did so in my dress blue uniform, in all of its splendor. The city was quite accommodating to all of her seafaring guests.
As day turned to night, myself and many of my shipmates migrated towards the waterfront district that sits right on the Savannah River. This waterfront area was an entertainment district in the spirit of Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Alcohol, open container and public intoxication laws are generally ignored by the patrons and the police as long as you don't get too brazen in your alcohol fueled adventures. It was quite a night. Being a sailor in uniform and being an honored guest of this most gracious city meant that none of us paid for most of our drinks. No sailor worth his salt would pass up such an offering. "Drink to the foam" is a line in Anchors Aweigh that we had to learn in boot camp. We must get drunk. This is tradition!
Get drunk, we did. We honored sailing men of the centuries that emptied barrels of rum well before there was even a United States Navy, and every sailor since with our drunkenness. Merriment was had, cups were emptied, uniforms were soiled. It was a grand time.
All good times must come to an end, and several of my buddies decided it was time to stumble back to the ship. It was getting late and our livers were starting to tell us we would regret this someday. We headed back to our splendid warship home. It was quite a walk. They had docked our ship a good distance down the river in a fully industrial area, likely because of our size. We stumbled through a pretty rough area, in retrospect. The Good Lord added drunken sailors to that saying about protecting babies and fools that night. The Good Lord also had a sense of humor this night as well.
We were most of the way back to the ship when I heard it. There was quite a good time being had just off the river. It was a low rumble of that festive techno dance music that always makes for a good time when you're drunk. I convinced my friends that we just had to check this out. This seemed like a good idea all around so off we shuffled.
We soon arrived at the source of the party. It was a dumpy looking warehouse called "The Loading Dock". Dumpy or not, we needed in on this party. We went inside with visions of drunk ladies with a thing for men in uniform.
We walked in the door. The music was definitely bumping but the crowd was thin. We stood by the front door and scoped the place out. So much for the crowds of women, lusting after sailors. Then I began to notice that there were really no women. There was not a single woman, but still some dancing and club stuff going on. The realization began to seep through the drunkenness as the doorman leaned over and said to me "I think you guys are in the wrong place". Indeed, he was right. Four drunken sailors, somewhat disheveled but still looking quite splendid in our dress blue uniforms, had just walked into a gay bar.
We quickly left as I agreed with the doorman, "I think you're right". We continued on towards the ship, silent and milling around the horrible mistake we had just made. One guy made sure that we all understood that nobody must ever hear of this. Everyone agreed enthusiastically but me. How can you not tell a story as wonderful as this? You cannot keep this comedy of errors to yourself, it must be shared with the world!
We arrived at our ship. We crossed the brow and gave our salutes to the colors and then the officer of the deck as we came aboard. My shoes had barely set foot on steel as I began to tell the tale of that time five minutes ago when we wandered into a gay bar called "The Loading Dock". It even sounds like a good gay bar name, similar to "The Man Hole" or something. I told everyone I could find of our adventure, much to the consternation of my friends. This was much to hilarious to not be told.
Many years have passed since this night. I looked on google maps this afternoon to see if perhaps The Loading Dock was still around. Maybe there were a few heartbroken gay guys that hang out there that talk about the time they let those handsome sailors get away. Alas, I could not locate The Loading Dock or really even tell where it was. I was quite drunk that night. I tell this story often, it is one of my favorites. Maybe, just maybe, there's a gay dude somewhere who tells it from his perspective so that it may come full circle.
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