Here is the story of how Mr. Military took this Cinderella to the ball, The United States Marine Corps Ball that is.
When Mr. Military found out that I would be down in San Diego for the weekend he invited me to be his guest as the Marine Corps Ball. He had suddenly this week found himself without a date and due to the fact that I look good in a cocktail dress and have an aversion to both guns and the military he thought that I would be a fun date. And I thought about men in white dress uniform looking dapper and sexy… well turns out that the Marine Corps has navy dress uniforms, and although the did look pretty dapper in the them with white gloves and little hats, I was most interested in the woman that they came with. Now these woman, military girlfriends and wives were a different sort than I was use to, and well a species all unto themselves. It was obvious that for many of them this was the highlight of their year… and it was painfully obvious that many of them were so young they thought of this ball as another prom or a glorified night out clubbing. The dresses ran the gamut from full on prom gowns (some complete with gloves and tacky plastic shoes!) to a white ballerina outfit (I kid you not it was a white corset top and a very shot tutu on the bottom) to a mermaid green skintight ass short dress that was more appropriate on a tranny hooking herself on Hollywood Blvd than a formal military ball.
But despite the inappropriateness of many of the dates what I walked away from the evening with was the deep sense of tradition that these men have. It was the 233rd Anniversary of the Marines, and with fitting of a “birthday” of this magnitude there were speeches and birthday cake! Though I did have to contain myself from laughing each time one of the men wished another happy birthday… Luckily Mr. Military finally explained it to me, otherwise I’m sure I would have made an idiot of myself and asked one of them about their “birthday”… But despite my confusion with some of the rituals (and my distaste for the Commandants speech, which seemed more like a recruiting video at it’s worst) I have to say my favorite part of the evening was the tradition of the cake. First I have to say that the cake is cut by an actually SWORD which is pretty freakin cool all by itself, but after it is cut the oldest marine in the squadron (Born September 20, 1961) took a bite and then passed it to the youngest marine (Born December 12, 1989). A passing of the sword so to speak. And maybe it might have been my exhausted, hungover and emotional state but it started to bring a tear to my eye.
Now though if the first part of the evening was about tradition and history the end part of was about youth and tackiness. Let me tell you about the dancing, more specifically let’s go back to my favorite hooker tranny wannabe in the mermaid dress who decided to try out her new stripper moves on the dance floor. She would have looked more appropriate dancing at Crazy Horse, but instead she was gyrating right in front of the commanding officers table. Pretty shortly after a few girl on girl moves a crowd had formed around her. And as I looked around the room you could see everyone staring at her with a horrified expression on their face, it was like a train wreck- you just couldn’t look away! But what caught my attention most was the Commanding Officers Wife. Unlike most of the woman in the room she was dressed with class, befitting an officer of his caliber and was busy trying to convince him to tell this woman to stop dancing. And seeing as he was hesitant to say anything she did what everyone else in the room wanted to do, she walked right up to our mermaid hooker and told her it was time to stop that dancing. I almost stood up and applauded.
Seeing as the floor show was over, Mr. Military and I got up and left the ball. But on the drive home I was struck by two things, one was that all these young men would give their life for this country. But on the flip side I also was stuck by the idea that all these young men, some 10 years younger than me, would also kill for this country. And at the end of an evening watching them interact with the people that they loved the most, that was a really sobering thought.
Semper Fidelis!
When Mr. Military found out that I would be down in San Diego for the weekend he invited me to be his guest as the Marine Corps Ball. He had suddenly this week found himself without a date and due to the fact that I look good in a cocktail dress and have an aversion to both guns and the military he thought that I would be a fun date. And I thought about men in white dress uniform looking dapper and sexy… well turns out that the Marine Corps has navy dress uniforms, and although the did look pretty dapper in the them with white gloves and little hats, I was most interested in the woman that they came with. Now these woman, military girlfriends and wives were a different sort than I was use to, and well a species all unto themselves. It was obvious that for many of them this was the highlight of their year… and it was painfully obvious that many of them were so young they thought of this ball as another prom or a glorified night out clubbing. The dresses ran the gamut from full on prom gowns (some complete with gloves and tacky plastic shoes!) to a white ballerina outfit (I kid you not it was a white corset top and a very shot tutu on the bottom) to a mermaid green skintight ass short dress that was more appropriate on a tranny hooking herself on Hollywood Blvd than a formal military ball.
But despite the inappropriateness of many of the dates what I walked away from the evening with was the deep sense of tradition that these men have. It was the 233rd Anniversary of the Marines, and with fitting of a “birthday” of this magnitude there were speeches and birthday cake! Though I did have to contain myself from laughing each time one of the men wished another happy birthday… Luckily Mr. Military finally explained it to me, otherwise I’m sure I would have made an idiot of myself and asked one of them about their “birthday”… But despite my confusion with some of the rituals (and my distaste for the Commandants speech, which seemed more like a recruiting video at it’s worst) I have to say my favorite part of the evening was the tradition of the cake. First I have to say that the cake is cut by an actually SWORD which is pretty freakin cool all by itself, but after it is cut the oldest marine in the squadron (Born September 20, 1961) took a bite and then passed it to the youngest marine (Born December 12, 1989). A passing of the sword so to speak. And maybe it might have been my exhausted, hungover and emotional state but it started to bring a tear to my eye.
Now though if the first part of the evening was about tradition and history the end part of was about youth and tackiness. Let me tell you about the dancing, more specifically let’s go back to my favorite hooker tranny wannabe in the mermaid dress who decided to try out her new stripper moves on the dance floor. She would have looked more appropriate dancing at Crazy Horse, but instead she was gyrating right in front of the commanding officers table. Pretty shortly after a few girl on girl moves a crowd had formed around her. And as I looked around the room you could see everyone staring at her with a horrified expression on their face, it was like a train wreck- you just couldn’t look away! But what caught my attention most was the Commanding Officers Wife. Unlike most of the woman in the room she was dressed with class, befitting an officer of his caliber and was busy trying to convince him to tell this woman to stop dancing. And seeing as he was hesitant to say anything she did what everyone else in the room wanted to do, she walked right up to our mermaid hooker and told her it was time to stop that dancing. I almost stood up and applauded.
Seeing as the floor show was over, Mr. Military and I got up and left the ball. But on the drive home I was struck by two things, one was that all these young men would give their life for this country. But on the flip side I also was stuck by the idea that all these young men, some 10 years younger than me, would also kill for this country. And at the end of an evening watching them interact with the people that they loved the most, that was a really sobering thought.
Semper Fidelis!
