Was told this story should be here, so, enjoy:

Went to a bowling alley in uniform with group of buddies after the training day was over. Patrons began buying us beer. Lots of beer. One hot-shot E6 in the group gets in fight with some old drunk retired Marine because he's a retard (and so are Marines).

Leave bowling alley before cops show up because some other patron got scared of a "tussle" and called 911.

Lonely housewife offered to be getaway driver, takes us in her minivan to her house, which has a bar in the basement. Being lower enlisted at the time, no one wants to listen when I say, "hey fuckheads, this is a bad idea."

Go to lonely housewife's basement bar, continue drinking. Lonely housewife, now drunk, takes even drunker E6 into other room, starts shlobbing the knob. Other E6 gets piss drunk, too, and starts having PTSD issues about past deployment.

PTSD man, for whatever reason, decided I was a good target. Grabbed me by my neck collar and lifted me high in the air for no reason. Other buddies try to pull him off me. PTSD man grabs two full bottles of liquor with a wild look in his eyes. Shoves one bottle in each uniform pant cargo pocket, then runs out the basement back door into the night like a wild animal.

Lonely housewife's husband comes home. The rest of us book it the fuck out of the basement, and decide that we may as well try to ruck it on foot back to the bowling alley (it is now 4:30am, or so).

We eventually make it to the bowling alley by having trudged through backwoods roads and forest, because "we're 13F, we know land nav." Whatever. Grab PTSD man's car, which has been parked in the parking lot this whole time.

Car is stick shift. I am the only one who isn't pissed drunk and can drive stick, so I take the wheel. As I'm adjusting the seat, I find -- gee whizz -- an AR pistol under the front seat. Wonderful, hope we don't get pulled over.

Drunk fellow E4 in back seat takes AR pistol, strips it down as much as possible, starts shoving the upper, bolt, lower into different parts in the car in a piss-poor attempt to hide it.

Drive around for a bit, looking for PTSD man. We can't find him, so we reluctantly head back to post. It is now 5:30am and wake-up time in barracks.

Head honcho E7, who had been texting/calling all of us the entire evening, looks like the grim reaper himself. I explain what happened. He quietly tells me and fellow E4 to chill in the barracks, takes the other NCOs in the group off somewhere, and they disappear.

We quietly await our fate, my fellow E4 and I, in the barracks. Luckily, nothing ever came o it for us -- perks of being in the lower enlisted mafia with a bunch of fucked up NCOs around you taking the heat.

PTSD man was eventually found miles away, passed out in someone's car, which was parked in their driveway.

We weren't allowed off-post during training for about four years after that night.