Aside - I've always wondered why they were called shaggy dog stories so I finally looked it up. Apparently one of the early variants went on at great length about how shaggy a particular dog was, and the punchline was someone saying "That dog's not so shaggy"... So the term describes a long, involved story that ends unexpectedly.
Of course, shaggy dog stories are only as good as the person telling them. The whole point is to get drawn in deeper and deeper, and then be blindsided by the ending - and Mike was the master. It wasn't unusual for the entire bay to gather in his room when he was in a "story telling" mood...
Now - to be honest, I can't tell a shaggy dog story to save my life (I just don't have the patience), but I do recall some of the punchlines:
You're 30 years old and you still believe in witches?
It's a long way to tip a Rari.
Pardon me Roy, is that the cat that chewed your new shoes?
That's the beer that made Mel Famey walk us.
Silly rabbi, kicks are for Trids!
Yeah - it was that kind of thing... But that's not the main topic of the post. This is:
One Saturday morning 5 of us "bay mates" (me, Juneau, Mike and 2 others) were sitting around drinking beer trying to think of something interesting to do for the rest of the day when someone came up with the idea of building a car model. As it turned out, we were all "up for it" so we pooled some money and one of the guys ran over to BX and came back with a Revell model of a 1969 Camaro Z/28 and an assortment of paints and supplies.
We were just in the process of unpacking the box when a tall skinny GI with glasses (Tom?) suddenly said "Wait just a sec!", ran back to his room and returned a few seconds later with an M80.
Now - "M80" is the generic term for "big-ass firecracker" but that's not what I'm taking about here. The article in question was a genuine military issue "M80 Explosive Detonator Simulator" - basically a 1/4 stick of dynamite. (We asked him where he got it, and he said the less we knew the better.) We spent a few minutes deciding how to modify the model to accommodate the device (without anyone questioning the wisdom thereof) and we got underway.
The next couple of hours were quite enjoyable. Mike divided responsibility for preparing, assembling and painting the various components amongst us, and it didn't take long until the Z/28 was fully assembled (with the M80 nestled in place of the back seat). We continued adding little touches (including plug wires) until everyone was satisfied at the result... Yes - it was a thing of beauty!
As we worked on the model we continued depleting our supply of Old Milwaukee, so when it came to discuss the next steps the only question raised was how far outside the door to set it off... I mean, we didn't want it too close to the dorm (damage avoidance), but whoever lit the fuse had to have enough time to get back inside before the boom. Since nobody was sure how fast the fuse would burn we compromised on a spot on the lawn 25 feet from the building.
So - the rest of us waited by the stairwell as Mike sauntered out with the his lighter, then a short while later he ran back inside screaming "Fire in the hole!" and slammed the steel door... For a couple of seconds we weren't sure it was actually going to go off - then it hit.
I don't think any of us expected the explosion to be that violent. We immediately ran outside and found nothing but a hole where the Z/28 had been. We did a quick scan of the nearby windows (amazingly enough, they were all intact) and realized that we could still hear echoes of the blast reverberating from miles away... It instantly dawned on us that an explosion of that magnitude would not go unnoticed, hence it might behoove us to be elsewhere :-) So I made a beeline for my 68 Barracuda (with Juneau and one other guy in tow) while Mike and the remaining guy headed for another car and we got our butts out the east gate as fast as we could.
We returned to the base many hours later halfway expecting to be arrested, but (much to our relief) we discovered that we were in the clear... The triangle did get locked down shortly after we left and a bunch of security police showed up, but since nobody really knew what had happened (and the evidence had been blown to smithereens) the SPs eventually shrugged and left. Of course, given the location of the blast hole (and our conspicuous absence) some of the guys figured it was us but kept their suspicions to themselves.
Another aside: I can't imagine an explosion on a military base being treated so casually these days, but back in 1973 terrorist attacks were a relatively new thing (that only happened overseas) so Americans weren't the least bit worried... Regardless, it was still a monumentally stupid thing to do :-)
Postscript: About a month later I was hanging out next to a tree about 100 yards from "ground zero" and I spotted one of the tires off the Z/28 nestled among the roots. I took it back to the dorm and we all had a good laugh and added it to the collection of bits and pieces we had gathered during the days and weeks that followed...
I've never been sure why, but my memories of that day invariably bring a smile to my lips. It was indeed "a date that will live in idiocy" :-)
1 comment:
Hilarious that there were pieces everywhere...you would have been busted so fast these days. :-) An idiotic thing to do for sure, but it's sort of sad how hard it is to get away with doing idiotic things these days.
Post a Comment