In 1985 my infantry unit was deployed to South Korea for "Team Spirit", this giant military training exercise that happens every year over there. We were way the fuck out in the booneys man and didn't see so much as a telephone pole for 2 months. The whole thing was surreal. They hid every village girl under 30 when we came through and no matter how far out we'd get, or how high up we'd be on some barron ass mountain, there was a 100 year old woman following us up it with a stick across her back carrying 2 milk crates full of 16 ounce bottled Cokes and MOONPIES.
The only thing you really had to fear were the motorcycles careening down dirt roads at 60 with entire families on 'em and VD. We got one 3 day pass in a tiny village called Tan Du Chon where each street was made up of a Titty Bar, 7 dollar Nike store, Titty Bar, Corn Dog shack, Titty Bar, 7 dollar nike store etc etc.
I got seperated from my friends shit faced drunk in a crowd outside of "Mr. Heads" bar and was walkin' around trying to find them when what do I see?...A big sign on this shit hole building that says "HARLEY BAR". I'm kinda freaked out and hoping I don't get mugged, not to mention home sick. So I go up the stairs to check this place out.
Right when I walk through the door I see a black, apehangered honest to god SHOVELHEAD CHOPPER sitting right in the middle of the floor. I think it was bolted down because it was sitting straight up and down. The place was out of control...HOT (and not so hot) tiny korean girls everywhere and about a thousand drunk crazy ass soldiers, all of 'em laughing and howling and throwin' shit. It was nuts.
I bought some more to drink and was screaming at some girl how I had a Harley back home blah blah when I got this great idea...I grabbed this chick and sat her on the king and queen seat of this shovel, then I climbed on it and started reefin' on the throttle like an idiot. We were screamin' at people tellin' 'em to "get the fuck outta the way" and so on.
Next thing I know, I'm hoisted up off of this bike like I weigh ten pounds by some big ol' ham fisted slicky boy (off duty soldier who hustles in town or bounces) and this motherfucker THROWS me down the stairs! Thank god I was drunk or I would've broke my neck.
I rolled out into the street and just laid there really still. People stepped right over me without even a disgusted look. I remember thinking "Did I spend all my money? Did I miss the shuttle back to the barracks? Where's my money?...HOW in the FUCK did they get a cherry Shovel like that way the fuck out HERE?
I had to walk around that village all night because I missed the last shuttle back, but that's another story.