I have been directed to the local Alaskan sailor "port hang." It is off the beaten tourist street tucked away in a more residential area of Skagway. There are no passengers here, just various crew of four ships in port today. The blonde bar wench wears a red "wife beater tee shirt" that has the word staff printed across her boobs. The shirt reveals a tattoo of the big dipper and the north star on her right shoulder. She must come from nordic arian stock, or she is from Malibu escaping some romance gone bad. When seen through beer goggles she becomes quite attractive. The longer a crew man drinks the more she must push off unwanted and unwarranted advances.
There is no need for the crew to be on their best behavior. Everyone is off duty if they are here. The stereotype of a drunken sailor is a cliche but absolutely true if you walk in.
I flash back to the sea faring days of old, the different languages you hear and the idea that everyone is trying to overcome cabin fever and accomplish the greatest degree of decompression in the least amount of time.
There is a small plaque nailed to the service bar that matches the natural stained wood decor. It appears to have been here a long time. It says,
"Every day of my life I am forced to add another name to the list of people who can kiss my ass".
Arggh maties. Another round of grog for me friends.
As you were,