Why I should not be on a party planning committee - 3/10/10

I have intended to tell this story for quite some time but was afraid of outraging my readers. Since I have apparently alienated the majority of my readership with far less offensive postings, I have elected to proceed. The handful of people who regularly peruse my blog know me well enough to realize I totally lack decorum. This article will contain full-frontal female nudity which is germane in the telling of this account. It could be argued that the photos are not crucial to the narrative, but it is my tale. So, at this point I will warn anyone who has stumbled on this blog that is offended by female nudity to stop reading now (if you haven’t already).

I was the superintendent of the manpower office at RAF Mildenhall, England. Superintendent essentially means I was the highest ranking enlisted member in the office. In that capacity, I was entrusted to be a role model and set a professional example for the more junior staff. I believe I performed that function admirably while in uniform. Off-duty, I was not necessarily a paragon of propriety (and for the past 18 years I have been off-duty). It has been said that the difference between the Boy Scouts and the Military is that the Scouts have adult supervision. After 20 years of service, I have no evidence to the contrary.

In 1991, one of my subordinates, Mark Davenport, was transferring to a CONUS assignment. Military units traditionally honor a departing coworker with a going away party. Often this soiree is tailored to the personality of the guest of honor. For instance, a party animal would rate a real Bacchanalia. It is also important to embarrass the honoree if at all possible. Mark was a very shy computer geek back when PCs were not advanced enough to support geekdom. He was not a drinker. Planning a party for him that would not suck for the rest of us was a challenge. The party committee, which consisted of me and a young Second Lieutenant, recently commissioned from Purdue (who shall remain nameless in case he is now a General), determined that it might be funny to get Mark a stripper gram. This was all the rage in England in 1991 and very benign. A frat guy and a debauchee should probably not have been entrusted to plan this shindig, but it seemed innocent enough. The other office weenies agreed and chipped in. We reserved a room in a local pub and it was on like Donkey Kong (though it was still just an arcade game then).

The party was going well and we were all having a few beers and giving Mark his going away gifts, plaques, certificates, etc. As well as the usual suspects from my office, my two teenage sons were also in attendance. As the drinking age in England is highly negotiable, they were enjoying some warm beer as well. Then, it happened. The young lady who the agency sent us showed up, right on time. She had with her a small boom box, which she turned on and began to dance, gyrate, and remove her clothes. But something went terribly wrong. She, with Mark’s assistance, removed ALL of her clothes and began to mount and ride Mark like Red Pollard on Seabiscuit. Our innocuous lingerie show turned X-rated right before our saucer-eyes.

It seemed that the agency had sent us the girl that was scheduled for a private bachelor party, the organizers of which had requested a much more personal service than we had chartered. Those groomsmen were probably a lot more disappointed than we were. We noticed the error quite early in her performance, but no one brought it to her attention.

If you look at the very first photo in the array, you will see that Mark had removed his outer shirt and was drenched in sweat. This photo was taken after the artist had departed and the guests that were revolted had bolted.

The only downside to the evening was that just outside of our room (which was less private than you would think) was a meeting of a ladies group dining after Bible study at the base chapel. The only person they recognized and acknowledged was, you guessed it, the Lieutenant. Come to think of it, he is probably not a General now. One of the ladies’ group happened to be the Wing Commander’s wife. He may still be a Lieutenant.