Tijuana. The name itself tastes like stale beer and regret. You want a hot dog down there? Oh, they got ‘em. Side of the street, some vendor who probably slept on his cart. Wonder Bread buns, steamed soft and pale…

This whole damn place after awhile, wears on the human soul, Subic Bay, the Bunny Ranch of the pacific.  There’s a line in the sand, or more like a line in the filth, separating the Naval Base from the red-light…

Eighteen and already shackled to the damn Navy. Aviation Machinist’s Mate – just a fancy title for a grease monkey stuck babysitting the S3 Viking. That naval aircraft, the beast with the oversized canopy, was supposed to hunt subs. Mostly,…

Dave always had something to prove. Maybe it was the Navy, maybe it was the fact that his kid got yanked from his life, maybe it was just the way he was wired—some deep, relentless itch to measure himself against…

I was out. Done. Free. San Diego, a new life, a newlywed wife. I had taken on a leadership role at the shipyards—good pay, long hours, nothing fancy, but honest work that kept the bills paid and the beer fridge…

I was close to getting out. My numbers were coming up, and I was officially a short-timer, counting the days like a prisoner scratching the walls. No more deployments, no more floating out in the middle of nowhere eating gray…

Being stationed in San Diego, I’d often travel north to visit my grandparents—both on my mom’s side and my organic dad’s. I’d hop on a train or bus, the kind that hugged the Pacific Coast, winding along the ocean like…

Straight out of boot camp, with my head still spinning from the nonstop shouting and drills, I got my orders: Naval Air Technical Training Center in Millington, Tennessee. The name itself sounded like a destination that promised technical mastery and…

Dave and I had settled into a rhythm—beer runs, late-night escapades, and, of course, spontaneous trips to Tijuana. That night was no different. He had swung by to pick me up, insisting we make a quick stop at North Island…

As Dave and I inched closer to turning 21, the allure of Tijuana began to fade. Our wild escapades south of the border had become predictable, and our appetites for adventure shifted toward something more refined—or at least slightly closer…

Dave and I had finally moved in together, setting up shop in a furnished bachelor pad in San Diego. It was the kind of place two young idiots like us could thrive—cheap rent, minimal rules, and just enough space to…

After my stint with Dave, his girlfriend managed to hook me up with a job working for a subcontractor in the San Diego shipyards. It was gritty work—removing asbestos from Naval vessels. They paid a whopping $5 an hour, and…

Dave had been out at sea, running sea trials on the USS Nimitz, prepping for a Westpac deployment, when my legal troubles with the Navy began. By the time he returned, my life had unraveled even further. Somehow, he tracked…

Eventually, after the chaos settled and a month or so had passed, I ran into Dave again. He wasn’t thrilled to see me. In fact, he was downright disappointed that I hadn’t stayed with him during the San Francisco brawl.…

The transfer of our squadron, VS-33, from the aging USS Kitty Hawk to the state-of-the-art USS Nimitz felt like stepping into a completely different world. The Nimitz wasn’t just a ship; it was a supercarrier, a marvel of engineering, a…

After endless days of flipping through help-wanted ads, I finally came to terms with the reality that I had zero marketable skills to my name. Sure, I’d worked security for Pinkerton during the AT&T strike, but standing around pretending to…

Just out of solitary confinement, prisoner 017 was a man at peace—or at least, that’s what he told himself. Routine and discipline had become his crutch, a way to make the days pass in this hellhole. I focused on my…

The restricted barracks were a shitshow, plain and simple. A swirling vortex of losers, wasted potential, and broken men trying to scrape by until their number was called. It was a purgatory for the Navy’s misfits and screw-ups, and now…

I decided that sitting idle in Camp Snoopy wasn’t an option. If there was even a sliver of hope, I had to fight for it. The thought of leaving the Navy with a bad conduct discharge—a stain that would follow…

Once I arrived at the brig, I was introduced to the harsh reality of this new chapter in my life. The initiation was as degrading as you’d expect—common showers, mandatory strip searches, and the humiliating order to spread my cheeks…

At 17, I signed myself into the United States Navy, forging a high school diploma to bypass the need for parental consent. It was my decision, my escape, my opportunity to prove myself. Boot camp in San Diego transformed me…

At 19 years old, with no close family, no lawyer, and no one to lean on, I found myself in a holding pattern, waiting for the Navy to decide my fate. My crime wasn’t failing a drug test—my tests were…

The Navy had stationed me in San Diego, and at 18, I was caught between the discipline of military life and the allure of freedom just across the border. My weekdays were filled with aviation mechanic training—B school, C school,…

It started with an idea, as most bad decisions do. I’d just gotten my scuba ticket and was chasing that deep-water thrill off La Jolla Cove. But I wanted something more, something with a little more hair on it. I…

At sixteen, I found myself living with my grandmother under strict orders—no women, no nonsense. Huntington Park High School was a world of its own, where I stood out like a neon sign: a tall, pale, white boy among a…

Boot camp in San Diego was an exercise in transformation. From the moment they shaved my head and had me stencil my last name on every piece of clothing I owned, I felt the civilian world slip away. Order replaced…

Lewis was one of those guys you couldn’t help but notice, the quintessential bad boy with an effortless charm that drew people in. He was tall, with blondish-brown hair that he religiously combed straight, a black plastic comb always tucked…