Ah, Fleet Week in New York City! Fresh-faced sailors in pressed Navy whites. So dewy-young and wide-eyed over the wonders of St. Patrick's Cathedral, the Empire State Building -- and getting nailed in a dark Times Square nightclub. Gawker recounts one hospitable New Yorker's encounter with one of our boys in white this past week:
New Yorker: I'm all 'come hither' and he hither comes and we start talking. And I'm all like, 'Are you gay?' and he's all like, 'Don't ask, don't tell,' to which I'm all, 'Don't ask, it's obvious.' So then we went into one of the booths and started messing around."
Gawker: "Messing around? At the club?"
New Yorker: "Yes and yes. He's never going to forget it. It was all like, 'your condom or mine?' and then I was banging him mercilessly, whisper-chanting in his ear, 'U.S.A., U.S.A.' The repressed make such great lays with all their pent-up energy. You gotta love Fleet Week."
Who doesn't! But can San Francisco's Fleet Week really be four long, lonely months away?