Graduation

Graduating from a training squadron and joining an operational squadron is a big deal. So you'd think the ceremony celebrating this achievement would be full of dignity, and solemn speeches about sacrifice and duty.

Oh... have we learned nothing about the world of Naval aviation?

NavyGuy's transition to his new squadron went a little like this:

Everyone show up at the Officer's Club on base. Start drinking free beer and eating chicken wings. Wait around an hour for the skipper to show up and get the show on the road. Whistle, hoot, holler, and generally show no decorum as each graduate is called up to receive their obligatory certificate. Duck, when the men from the new squadron rip off the graduates' old patches and whip them around the room.



At this point, each squadron begins its own fraternity hazing initiation welcome game for the new guys (who have each gotten new name patches that politely name them FNG... "freaking new guy."). Some grads are dragged outside to be doused in champagne. Others do a simple shot with their new squadron.

NavyGuy's new family upped the ante.



That's a tasty little number called an "Irish Car Bomb" ...on steroids! NavyGuy and his buddy T each had to down a half-pitcher of Guinness and a tumbler's worth of Baileys.



Yeah. You can probably guess how our night progressed. NavyGuy was drunk by 4:30 (graduation started at 4), and I had to go home to let the puppy out. T and his wife were nice enough to bring NavyGuy home around 6... where he attempted to drink some water and sober up, but mostly just muttered about how cute Tally is and then fell into bed.

And there ended another proud day for NavyGuy :)