"I'LL BEAT THE SH-T OUTTA ANY TWO SWABBIES IN THIS JOINT," screamed my Gator teammate and ex-paratrooper, Tony, to about 300 sailors in the all-night restaurant called Salty's.
Tony was a well-muscled offensive guard, who was always offensive and always guarded his ego with his life.
"You stupid sh-t," I muttered to Tony. "The Shore Patrol and cops will be here in less than 60 seconds. I've had it with your cheap ass."
And as I busted out of Salty's, leaving a drunken Tony behind, two US Navy Shore Patrolmen brushed past me on their way inside.
"That stupid sh-t" I thought, over and over, while I tried to clear my head in Salty's parking lot.
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