Acceptance of the locals.

Between 2002 and 2006 I served at the United States Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, CO as a medic on the inpatient floor/ICU, then Emergency.

I immediately did not take to the place...it was top heavy on Enlisted and Officers, suffered terrible winters (I had no car, and there was no base transit, so yeah, walking to work up a mountain sucked for the first year), and the Junior enlisted were either fuck ups that failed a cool guy job or Airmen that were certain they would become officers before their 4 years were up.

I came from a blue collar background, failed out of nursing school for finances, and joined up after 9/11 for a sense of duty, and that the only manager I liked at my tech firm slammed into the second tower with his GF en route to propose to her.

I was 22, able to purchase beer, and I was having none of this bullshit having grown up fast and hard.

To say the Airmen around me were degenerates was an understatement. There was a huge cocaine problem in the barracks, assholes drinking would punch holes in walls resulting in me having to be in formation in blues in 40 degree weather after a 4 day night shift run getting dressed down by top.

I have a good story about piss tests and cadets, ill post it if this gets traction.

Later on there was an OSI investigation regarding an O4 and several E3 electrnic prescribing narcotics off base and reselling them. One went to federal prison for 2 years after some of the shitbags turned over to avoid punishment.

There was no E club, so all drinking was in the barracks, or off post.

The main attraction was Cowboys, on the Army side of town. Many times these USAFA boys would find themselves out of their element, i.e. getting their shit pushed in by actual cowboys, or Soldiers from Ft. Carson. I had no tolerance for their behavior, much less getting me dragged into it. Besides, we had plenty of cute 2nd Lts. on base to choose from if you could manage to keep your mouth shut.

That's another story....

Me, being a seasoned Irishman, just wanted to drink in peace.

A buddy put us on to a Towny bar in a strip mall. I cant remenber the place, but its no longer on google maps, but is was close to the Academy, right side stripmall heading towards Ft Carson with a steep parking lot that was treacherous to navigate when icy, let alone drunk.

First rule of towny bars...shut the fuck up and tip well and often. All eyes were on my shitty high and tight when I rolled in (base barbers suck, dont judge me). My buddy, D, separated 82nd Airborne, talk me through it.

"Tip well, but not too much, dont draw attention...most of these guys are blowing there SSI and disability here, and you dont want to look like a high roller or some dick trying to take their woman. Also, bikers can be...unpredictable. Also, law enforcement doesn't like to come here."

High roller, as an E3...chuckles. "Im in danger" in Ralphs voice.

This place was ghetto as fuck. Plenty of spiderweb tats on peeps, methed out chicks, biker leather, drinks in mason jars, and a grog fountain. The "Bar Mat" shots were in demand. The pool table was out of comission every other month due to "collective differences and bloodshed". You dont want an open wound here.

But, there was darts and a hot dog station (not a Navy referance).

We got weird looks for the first few times, and after a while we were accepted. I made sure to throw $20 for the dogs, and every other week $20 for the dart pool. People with full tummies cause less trouble was the thought. I even brought a crock pot of chili now and again. It was well recieved, and got smashed twice. The bartender was a pro with replacement parts.

Yeah, that sort of place.

After that it was a cool hangout. Other obviously military were met with scorn, or at least escorted out...sometimes violently...and they generally earned it.

One time one of the bikers asked me to take a look at a slash wound on his forearm...of dubious origin...and I told him he needed to get sewn up.

I told him I could do it, but i needed to go back to base to get a kit, and I was on my way getting hammered, so that was a no go.

Motherfucker went outside, and produced a fully stocked med kit, with ethylon 4 and an S2 needle suture. I sutured him up in the makeshift kitchen, after a douse of vodka on his wound and in my gullet. No lidocaine. I told him to get a tetanus shot. He laughed, hit me hard on the shoulder, and ordered me shots...lots of shots.

The night got real fuzzy after that...although I woke up with a few 20's in my pocket the next morning at a house I did not recognize.

The hot bartender made me coffee, assured me my did not have sex as the sutured biker would kill me, and she could not in her life sleep with a guy that drove a 90 Geo Metro.

She dropped me off at the front gate, and gave a kiss on the cheek...she was prohibited from being on base for...reasons. Its a long walk to the barracks, but when you have a smoking hot brunette with nose rings dropping you off...that is the walk of victory, not shame.

I missed a formation...whatever. At this point my Army prior service LT was fighting for separate rations, and throwing regs at the First Sergeant, so they started to leave me alone.

Flash forward a few weeks and someone at the barracks leaked the spot (not my blabber mouth, promise).

These assholes showed up rowdy and looking for drugs and fights...orherwise fucking up everyones time.

The bartender looked at me, looked at them, looked back...and i shook my head. "Not my peeps" I mouthed.

And thats how 5 Airmen got the shit beat out of them.

When the swinging started I saw a few bikers headed my way. I downed my drink, was ready to get up, and I felt a very strong grip on my right shoulder. I looked over, and it was the biker I had stiched up. I instictively sat down. All was good, although he shuffled me into said kitchen when the cops showed up.

2 days pass and we are told to be in dress blues for a formation. Said townie bar was now offlimits.

I was pissed beyond belief.

A few weeks go by further, and I decide to stop in there anyways. The bartender greeted me warmly, and told me to sit there. She turned I saw her beatiful lower back tattoo, and poured a triple of their finest (watered down) whiskey to a dude in the corner. After that it was business as usual.

I had my townie bar back, and the dude with the whiskey would go on to prosecute the largest opiod diversion plot in OSI history of the time involving 3 of the 5 from the initial fight.

When I got orders elsewhere, I told me peeps that I wanted to go to said bar.

After much balking 5 of us walked in, and promptly stopped by security.

I told him i was leaving, and that there would be no trouble. He nodded, and let us through. All 4 were instructed to give the house $20 by me, as I had given them the cash.

The lone chick in our group won the dart tourney by staying (mostly) sober, and an unnamed person bought us our cab back to the base.

Never been really a bar guy, but god damned I miss that place.

Dont fuck with townies.