Shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, EVERYBODY! Part 4 by Allen Katherman


A note from the editor.
Allen Katherman is a guest writer to this summer. He is a Poker personality, fashion enthusiast, nuclear engineer and a great friend. Be sure to follow him on instagram and check back for more.

Shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, EVERYBODY! Part 4
By Allen Katherman

The first week I was back was spent with my kids, and like any kids their age, they were bored of me by the weekend. So I drove back to San Diego and immediately linked up with Richie and Xavi. Luckily for us, we all got set up on the same duty section. Anytime a ship arrives from deployment, it goes on a stand down period. This basically means that most of the sailors are on “vacation” while the others have a very minimal workload. We were in four section duty, which meant that every four days we were restricted to the ship for 24 hours for either maintenance or watch. The other days were short work days with weekends off.

The second weekend we were back, we met up with Xavier’s brother, Carlos, for his bachelor’s party. His party was being held at the Fluxx nightclub in San Diego. We were told to wear suits (something I had never done before) and to help chip in for bottle service (also something I had never done before).

Our night started with pre-gaming in Carlos’ hotel room then we all walked to Fluxx. The atmosphere at Fluxx was ridiculous! Beautiful women were everywhere, wearing clothes that barely covered anything on their body. It seemed like every woman had fake boobs, a phenomenal figure and a beautiful face. Let me tell you, getting married at such a young age and spending my younger 20’s in the Albuquerque “nightlife” didn’t prepare me for this type of atmosphere.

We had a table roped off in the front of the club with our own bottle service. All these beautiful, scantily dressed women were throwing themselves at us trying to talk to us and get free drinks and talk to us because we were in the VIP. After that night, Xavi, Richie and I were definitely hooked on the San Diego nightlife.

In the days after, we met two young men named Brian Post and Brandon Thompson who were just starting their party production company: TK Productions. If you’re not familiar with how party production companies work in San Diego, the companies host parties at certain clubs on different nights of the week. Their job is to entice people into admission/getting tables.

The first event they promoted was a Friday night gathering at Stingaree. We got a table by the dance floor and bottle service with vodka and champagne. The table was set in a way that it overlooked the dance floor. The velvet ropes drew the crowd towards us giving us a social advantage. It’s crazy how people are drawn to the superficial atmosphere of having one’s own section and alcohol in a club. Women constantly approached and threw themselves at us for a simple shot of vodka or glass of champagne. And we, freshloff six months of being imprisoned in an iron hull where the guy/girl ratio far exceeded 6 to 1, indulged ourselves in this attention. It wasn’t long until our table, which started with the Tres Amigos, was always busy welcoming new women. It was like having that strip-club love without having to pay for it or dealing with a tease. Women threw themselves at us for sheer social status – and who were we to stop them?

Because of the extreme hospitality and character of Brian and Brandon, we decided to hang with TK Productions every time they had a promotion. Wednesdays we were at Sidebar, Thursday was Ivy, Friday was Stingaree, Saturday was at Hardrock and Sundays we hung at Intervention (which was the San Diego pool party equivalent to Rehab in Las Vegas). Monday was industry night at Stingaree. We partied so much we were part of that too! In fact, the only night TK had “off” was Tuesday, so we would all just go ahead and take a break. This meant that we had a table and bottle service six nights a week! Most every club’s last call was at 1:30am, and on a slow night we’d back to the ship by 2:00 AM only to turn around and be at work by 6:30. It wasn’t uncommon for us to show up to work still smelling and feeling the activities from the night before – but we didn’t care. We were going to deploy again soon and we all felt the need to spend that summer like it was our last. Even on duty days, it wasn’t uncommon for us to venture off the ship and be spotted in Gaslamp.

All this newfound attention inflated our already huge our egos and the women took notice. The social separation that the VIP tables and bottle service created was turning us into social monsters. We were wanted, we had social clout and the ladies wanted us. And we, of course, took advantage of that.

Anytime we slept with anybody new, we would text each other “*7” so that not only could we brag about it, but it wouldn’t look suspicious as saying “I slept with a new girl” if anyone else saw the text. I’m not saying that any of us were Wilt Chamberlain or anything crazy like that, but I have never sent out or received so many *7’s in my life. Especially during such a short period of time.

At this time, life was good; women, tables, booze, partying. I still saw my kids every other weekend, but I found a balance between being a devoted parent in Los Angeles and a partying sailor in San Diego. The only thing looming in our minds was deployment. It seemed that the closer we got to December, the more we drank and the more we indulged in the nightlife.

But eventually the nightlife started to wear on me. Although the women, the partying and the social life was extravagant, it was also very, very shallow. You learn real quickly who your true friends are, and on the nights that we didn’t get VIP tables or bottle service, those same people that were our “best friends” acted as if they didn’t know us.

Xavier and Richie were naive to this and no matter what I told them they didn’t listen. It didn’t help that they both also decided to settle down with a couple girls. It wasn’t long before the Tres Amigos adventures began to happen less and less often.

Our last night of partying in San Diego before deployment was on a Monday night at Stingaree. Again we got a table and everything seemed to be in line with the same tempo that carried through our summer. We had fresh haircuts, fresh suits, fresh bottles of vodka and the crowd was amazing. But unbeknownst to us, this night was the beginning of the end the Tres Amigos.

As always, to be continued…

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