A Marine's Lapse in Synapse: Part II

June Bug: Making tapes before the days of Karaoke and the puking pact at the Pavilion in Myrtle Beach.

Jim Hart was my shadow in 1984, my second year in the Corps. We were stationed at MCAS New River, in Jacksonville, North Carolina. Much like I used to depend on Dave Miesbach in high school, Jim depended on me. I can’t remember who tabbed him with the nickname, ‘June Bug’, it may have even been himself. He was a short 5’4”, and his elongated head made you think of the creatures that battled Sigourney Weaver in the movie, Alien. It’s not always a bad thing, but you could tell that he was going to be one of those guys who fell in love with and married his first lay.

Jim was a great influence on me because he talked me out of doing a lot of stupid shit. I think his favorite past time was entering every ‘Iron Man’ competition he could find, just to prove he wasn’t a scrawny little shit.

June Bug and I used to drive south to Myrtle Beach on occasion when we had a 72 or a 96-hour pass. It was only a couple hours drive from Jacksonville, and they had an Air Force base there where we enlisted Marines could eat for free. They might have had billeting for us as well if we’d looked into it, but we never thought that far ahead. We’d usually wind up following something home or sleeping under the vinyl cover stretched across the bed of my pickup.

The first time June Bug did NOT talk me out of something stupid was because he wanted to see me do it, and no harm could come to anybody or anything, except maybe your eardrums. We came across a mini recording booth where a man was attempting to reel people in to sing songs and pay him to make cassette copies. I couldn’t decide if the booth looked more like a military hearing test booth, or a portable commode. For all I know it could have been modified from the remnants of each.

The area where the Pavilion is located is on the outskirts of town, which is sort of a carnival like atmosphere in Myrtle Beach. I’ve always wanted to be a singer, and that time of my life was no different. At the age of 20, I fancied myself to be extremely talented in the vocal area. I was drunk enough to sing in front of June Bug, and I wanted him to hear it live, so with the permission of the proprietor, I invited him into the booth. I spent a few minutes over-exaggerating the balls I had, attempting to do a song from somebody as super-human as Billy Joel. The owner of the booth handed me a lyric sheet for ‘Keeping the Faith’, and I studied it for a few moments before I gave him the ‘go’ sign. Not only did this tone-deaf drunk slur the words, I sang them wrong as well. I had a ‘Mondogreen’ (misheard lyric) before there was such a thing. Listening to the tape upon completion was an embarrassment that took me years to recover from. It took me until the 21^st century and a deployment to Spain before I could actually get on a stage and sing karaoke in front of a live audience. Today, my favorite tune to perform is Clarence Carter’s “Strokin’”. I can’t believe I kept that first tape. Probably so I can play it for June Bug the next time I see him.

Remember when wine coolers were just beginning to get popular? For me, it was about 1984. June Bug and I had a favorite. We wouldn’t buy anything but Matilda Bay. They were purple and tasted something like a grape soda. The dry version actually wasn’t too bad. The advertising was supposed to convince you they were from Australia or some shit like that, but the actors had awful accents. I think they were actually a Miller product.

We were in Myrtle Beach again, when we came up with this brilliant idea. It sounded like ‘fun’ to get really drunk and intentionally puke on one of the rides. After discussing it, our goal became to get as drunk as possible before choosing a ride to ‘throw groceries’ on. About ten drinks in, a pact began to take shape, and we decided if we were going to actually heave, we wanted other people to see it, so we could create a sympathy-puke environment. We also decided on a ride that might work. I think the Myrtle Beach version of this ride was called the ‘Gravitron’, but it isn’t the same as other Gravitrons where the seat elevates instead of the floor dropping. There are many names for this ride across the amusement park nation, so I’ll just describe it to you. Riders stand with their backs against a wall. About twenty to thirty can ride at once in a circle formation with everyone facing the center. When the ride begins, the unit begins to move slowly, rotating its riders. As the speed increases, it becomes more difficult to move because the centrifugal force of the spin pushes your arms and head against the wall. I’ve heard that you experience a force greater than 4 G’s. It takes a strong neck to pull your head off of the wall. When you reach top speed, the floor drops out from under you, but you don’t fall because gravity can’t overcome the centrifugal force that holds you against the wall.

June Bug and I finally got to the point where we could drink no more. This was the other event, I wish June Bug would have talked me out of. Both of us wanted to back out on our pact, but our Marine Corps pride was just too much. As we staggered to the ride, Jim and I decided that we should be opposite of each other on the ride, so we could keep an eye on each other. We knew what would happen soon, we just didn’t know who was going to yark first.

In a counter clock-wise motion, we began to move. I began to think to myself, when the urge comes, how am I going to keep my head off the wall so I can avoid destroying my shirt? Just before we hit top speed it happened. Jim got a green hue on his face, and I knew it was just a matter of seconds. By the contortion on his face, he knew it too. I watched as he tried to pull his head off the wall, when his cheeks got puffy and he launched the evening’s snacks out in front of him. I certainly didn’t expect what happened next, and neither did he. That blob of purple crap and funnel cakes reversed directions, because it was violently thrown back at his face and neck, which just made him yark again, and again. It was like someone was throwing buckets of it in his face! It got so bad he turned his head to the left, and continued selling Buicks, blowing the crap into his neighbor’s ear. He attempted again