At Jebel Ali in UAE (about 20 miles south of Dubai), there was this remnant of the British Empire called the Merchant Mariners Club. It was actually a private club--you had to show id to prove that you were some ship's company, didn't matter if you were off a fishing dhow, a sheep ship or a U.S. Navy destroyer--landsmen were not allowed. U.S. Marines were sort of tolerated, if they were buying. Royal Marines were only allowed in if they ere wearing dresses. The club was filled with the gnarliest, fattest, drunkest, greasiest ancient old merchant sailors you could imagine. For some reason most of them were Australian. They had every type of European, Lebanese and Egyptian low-life you could imagine--gunrunners, drug dealers, mercenaries, and often all three at once. If we weren't fine, upstanding young Americans we could have made a fortune...
There was a parrot that smoked cigarettes--true story, I lit a cigarette myself and watched the parrot smoke it, spit the stub out and then demand another one. They had the best shawarmas I have ever had in my life, free if you were drinking. After you got your scotch (beer was considered a non-alcoholic beverage, and the closest wine was in Bahrain, don't ask for a mixed drink--they would kick you out of the place), the bartender's wife would slice you up a fat, nasty lamb shawarma. They were so good I would order drinks just to get the shawarmas.
The thing to do was to hang out at the pool and place bets on who would jump in from the roof of the 2-story building that overhung the pool. You didn't swim in the pool, which was a lovely green algae color, but people would place bets on who would jump in. The only person who ever jumped in to my knowledge was this EW2 who did it because he got bored of people bragging about how they were going to jump into the pool. It was a beautiful, perfect swan dive. He came down with dysentery, but that might actually have been from the shawarmas.
