Men in uniform. And not just any uniform; Navy sailors in summer whites, Marines in dress blues, and UPS deliverymen in dress browns. These are a few of my favorite things.
It’s May. That means Fleet Week is just around the corner. And that means my inner military-ogler is hearing the call of duty. I support our troops.
I’ve never been to NYC’s Fleet Week, so I can’t say for sure what it would be like. I’ve heard vicious rumors about how lowdown the week can be in the departments of skullduggery and quasi-anonymous fornication, but I find it hard to believe that a distinguished man such as an officer and a gentleman could be so crude. I imagine if I went there it would go something more along the lines of:
Man In Uniform: Hello, LC.
LC: Hello, sailor.
MIU: Do you like my uniform?
LC: I most certainly do.
MIU: Marry me?
And then we sail off on the horizon, me wearing his hat and waving to all my friends, and him wearing a winning smile that *tings* in the sunlight.
The other possible scenario is me just walking down the streets of Manhattan, surrounded and inundated with men in uniform, wherein “Heartbeats” by The Knife becomes my internal soundtrack and I play a lengthy game of role-reversal grab-ass and elevator-eyes.
Either or, someone give me the skinny on Fleet Week so I can make an informed decision. And for all you sailors, Marines and UPS deliverymen… AAAAAA-hoy!