Tell us your best story. Your best day, the wildest thing you've seen, an event in your life.
I'm looking for the story that defines your life, the one you'd tell your grandkids around a campfire, the one you and your old friends re-tell half a box of beer into a night.
Tell us about the time you saw your dad kill a bear with his case knife, the day you won the lottery, the turd that was born with your child, the day your grandpa took you fishing.....good, bad, ugly. Your best story.
The only rule, it has to be true to the best of your memory. Go. [Reply]
This one time my friend was going to get married so we decided to go to Vegas for the Bachelor party. Turns out we got drugged, lost the groom, stole Mike Tysons Tiger, married a stripper, hung out with a baby, and almost got killed by an Asian guy. Finally found the groom on the roof of the Hotel.
Osceola was the scene of perhaps the biggest brain fart of my life.
Could've killed me, and probably no one on Earth but me knows.
One of the merit badges was marksmanship. Now I don't come from a gun family, but I was a pretty good shot. The one concession I had to figure out was that I was left handed, but can't close just my right eye, so early on I couldn't use the sites. I fashioned an eye patch and soon had some of the best marks in the camp.
Then one day I pull the trigger and nothing happens. Pull it again, nothing.
In a brainfart of monumental proportions, I open the breech and look at the bullet. There I am, my peepers inches away from an unspent round.
Seeing nothing I re-engage the breech and the bullet immediately fires off into the target of the next shooter over.
Originally Posted by Baby Lee:
Osceola was the scene of perhaps the biggest brain fart of my life.
Could've killed me, and probably no one on Earth but me knows.
One of the merit badges was marksmanship. Now I don't come from a gun family, but I was a pretty good shot. The one concession I had to figure out was that I was left handed, but can't close just my right eye, so early on I couldn't use the sites. I fashioned an eye patch and soon had some of the best marks in the camp.
Then one day I pull the trigger and nothing happens. Pull it again, nothing.
In a brainfart of monumental proportions, I open the breech and look at the bullet. There I am, my peepers inches away from an unspent round.
Seeing nothing I re-engage the breech and the bullet immediately fires off into the target of the next shooter over.
Originally Posted by eDave:
Ah. Assuming that's H.Roe, didn't know he was part of another summer camp outside of Oseola. He was big into scouting though.
He probably thought you were asking about a 'Camp Osceola' unaware that that was actually the name of the nearby town.
Osceola is the only Bartle reservation I know of. [Reply]
Originally Posted by eDave:
Little Distant Circling Hawk.
I should also clarify, when I say inducted with. I don't mean camp-wide. In my little cadre of buddies from my troop. Little Lone Star was my troop master. [Reply]
Originally Posted by Kman34:
I went one summer to Osceola...Remember the swimming test? You didn't want to be the one in my troop who didn't pass..
Oh yeah, swimming has always been my boondoggle. My parents tried to give us lessons as little kids and they couldn't even get us to float.
Another story.
Went to a friend from church's house for dinner. He lived on a farm with a pond. Went went swimming in it and it was near freezing. It was about 100 yards across. I fully intended to just wade around and splash my arms, when suddenly there was nothing under me. Flailing around I couldn't tell what was the nearest shore. Ended up improvising a doggy paddle all the way across that sumbitch. Falling onto the shore and puking my guts up Scared the shit out of my friend.
Guess I got my 'throw them into the deep end' moment in my mid-teens. Still not a great swimmer, but can manage to get to whatever shallows I need to. [Reply]
So, on a sub if you want to go to the bathroom (the Head) you would go into a stall and the toilets would basically have a ball valve that you would have to open and shut. Do your business, fill it with water, open the ball valve and it would then move your poo to the San Tanks (sanitary tanks).
Under way you have to flush the sanitary tanks to sea. Since you are under water you have to use air pressure to over come the pressure of the sea to dump the san tanks. If the a-gangers are doing their job they are supposed to tag out the stalls with a big red tag that says they are out of commission due to the sanitary flush.
They forgot to do that.
So Ricky recruit noob seaman ( not me ) decides he needs to go take a dump. He was at least trained on the toilets so he knew to fill it with water. Unfortunately this was right during the san tank flush and the tanks were pressurized with air. He then doing as he remembered cracks the ball valve and ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE. He is screaming his head off as pressurized poo and every foul thing in the sanitation tanks shoots up his ass, up from his legs and into his mouth and from what the corpman said he was even having to get it out from under his eyelids.
So always remember to do your job or you or someone else will be in a world of shit. [Reply]
Originally Posted by WhawhaWhat:
I still have a big scar on my knee from the bottom of that pool at scout camp. I also have a scar from accidentally wood carving my finger.
I always wood carved the nose off the Indian... :-)
