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Somewhere around 1972, my best friend Robbie (Wayne Robertson) and I were on HMCS Saguenay and in Bermuda for a port visit. There were lots of other warships in Bermuda that weekend, including a few of the American Navy. One night he and I were in the ‘Horse & Buggy’ (a local pub) and it was jam packed – sailors were shoulder-to-shoulder while drinking. Everyone was in a happy mood. Then, an American sailor next to us asked Robbie for a ‘wet’ of his beer. Wayne said, ‘Sure mate,” while passing the guy a full can of Heineken. The guy took a swig and passed him back an empty can. Wayne caught on and said, “Hey, you fxxker,” and smashed him in the side of the head with his fist wrapped around the empty beer can.
That started a barroom brawl. Within 5 seconds both Robbie and I were knocked to the floor, ending up on our hands and knees face-to-face. I said, “Let’s get the fxxk outta here!” With that, we crawled on the floor to what looked as though it was the exit door, but we were 180 degrees disoriented. The open door that we saw was the storeroom behind the bar. We crawled inside, but realizing it, we weaselled our way up to the elevated area where the tables were and plunked ourselves down with a young American couple on their honeymoon. They were watching the brawl and seemed to be dumbfounded, especially when we sat down with them while bragging, “We started it … we started it!”
About three of our shipmates ended up in jail that night after the cops were called. Wayne and I started it, but walked out calmly (laughing) after the excitement was over. Later, we were kicking ourselves in the asses because we should have grabbed a couple of bottles while we were in the storeroom. The entire bar staff had jumped over the bar and was busy breaking up the fight. No one would have noticed us.
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