I had an epiphany.
We need to back off on this guy. He was just trying to make an honest buck to cover his bar tab.
Put those ropes down and lemme 'splain. Anyway - ya wanna lynch somebody, lynch Frank - he's the one who made it clear to me when he said "I thought he was just the doorman?" in the comments to the post. It reminded me of an applicable TINS.
Back before the Auld Soldier retired, he was the Professor of Military Science at the University of Missouri. Mizzou is one of those relatively few schools that have detachments from all three ROTC programs, Army, Navy, and Air Force. One of the things that ROTC detachments are responsible for doing is preparing their charges for their military responsibilities - and this included (at least it did back then) the social niceties, so as not to embarrass the Service when we were let out in public.
Back in the late 70's and through the early 80's, before the pencil-necked, sunken-chested, marathon running buzzkill geek generals destroyed the club system, it was useful to know your salad fork from your dessert fork, lest you embarrass yourself at a fancy dinner in front of a barrel-chested, hard-drinking. cigar-chomping stone-cold killer of a General who would impale you publicly (assuming your brother and sister officers didn't get to you first). Y'know, Creighton Abrams, vice, oh, Wesley Clark. The Clark's would just smile and kill you professionally with a knife to your back via your efficiency report. Oh, don't hate him, he can't help it. He's like the scorpion of fable.
Anyway, to effect this training, we had the Tri-Service Dining Out.
This would be vice a Dining-in. The difference? At a dining-in, it's service-members only, usually within the unit, but fellow warriors from sister units could also be invited. They usually came with Traditions, most of which were some form of frat-style, drinking game hazing. In the 1st Herd of the 22nd Regiment of Artillery of the Field, it was drinking the hands-free "Nikolashka." A dining-out is a more genteel affair, still oh-so-formal with Mess Dress or Blues, but where you would invite Outsiders, like spouses, politicians, and other exotica. Usually dining-outs don't conclude with "carrier landings" or PLF contests, but rather with dancing. Sometimes that could get, um, well, hot, but not usually like this.
Anyway, the Tri-Service Dining Out would be held in the spring, before graduation. Many, if not all, the seniors-about-to-be-commissioned cadets and midshipmen would own a dress uniform by then, and the faculty would usually go full-goose bozo and wear their Mess Dress with miniature medals and such. The last dining-out before the Auld Soldier's retirement was held at the local Hilton. The Auld Soldier, a Colonel with two wars and lots of danglies, was wearing his Mess Dress with all the trimmings. He opened the door for my mother, who was stuck doing her wifely duty, and then held it for another couple who had just un-assed from a limo.
As they went through the door, the gentleman pressed a twenty dollar bill into the Auld Soldier's hand and said, "Thank you, my good man."
The Auld Soldier nodded politely, said, "Thank YOU, sir" and used the money for his bar tab.
That's class. And classic.
We need to back off on this guy. He was just trying to make an honest buck to cover his bar tab.
Put those ropes down and lemme 'splain. Anyway - ya wanna lynch somebody, lynch Frank - he's the one who made it clear to me when he said "I thought he was just the doorman?" in the comments to the post. It reminded me of an applicable TINS.
Back before the Auld Soldier retired, he was the Professor of Military Science at the University of Missouri. Mizzou is one of those relatively few schools that have detachments from all three ROTC programs, Army, Navy, and Air Force. One of the things that ROTC detachments are responsible for doing is preparing their charges for their military responsibilities - and this included (at least it did back then) the social niceties, so as not to embarrass the Service when we were let out in public.
Back in the late 70's and through the early 80's, before the pencil-necked, sunken-chested, marathon running buzzkill geek generals destroyed the club system, it was useful to know your salad fork from your dessert fork, lest you embarrass yourself at a fancy dinner in front of a barrel-chested, hard-drinking. cigar-chomping stone-cold killer of a General who would impale you publicly (assuming your brother and sister officers didn't get to you first). Y'know, Creighton Abrams, vice, oh, Wesley Clark. The Clark's would just smile and kill you professionally with a knife to your back via your efficiency report. Oh, don't hate him, he can't help it. He's like the scorpion of fable.
Anyway, to effect this training, we had the Tri-Service Dining Out.
This would be vice a Dining-in. The difference? At a dining-in, it's service-members only, usually within the unit, but fellow warriors from sister units could also be invited. They usually came with Traditions, most of which were some form of frat-style, drinking game hazing. In the 1st Herd of the 22nd Regiment of Artillery of the Field, it was drinking the hands-free "Nikolashka." A dining-out is a more genteel affair, still oh-so-formal with Mess Dress or Blues, but where you would invite Outsiders, like spouses, politicians, and other exotica. Usually dining-outs don't conclude with "carrier landings" or PLF contests, but rather with dancing. Sometimes that could get, um, well, hot, but not usually like this.
Anyway, the Tri-Service Dining Out would be held in the spring, before graduation. Many, if not all, the seniors-about-to-be-commissioned cadets and midshipmen would own a dress uniform by then, and the faculty would usually go full-goose bozo and wear their Mess Dress with miniature medals and such. The last dining-out before the Auld Soldier's retirement was held at the local Hilton. The Auld Soldier, a Colonel with two wars and lots of danglies, was wearing his Mess Dress with all the trimmings. He opened the door for my mother, who was stuck doing her wifely duty, and then held it for another couple who had just un-assed from a limo.
As they went through the door, the gentleman pressed a twenty dollar bill into the Auld Soldier's hand and said, "Thank you, my good man."
The Auld Soldier nodded politely, said, "Thank YOU, sir" and used the money for his bar tab.
That's class. And classic.
Which opened a rather large barrel of well-meaning faux pas and opportunities for levity...
On his first day, he arrives in the Proscribed Uniform of the Day: Winter Blues (him with four gold stripes atop a gold star upon his great coat epaulets, and the same on the sleeves of his blouse.)
He entered the place, and then into the elevator. His fellow passenger, a young secretarial lass of tender years and high energy, looked him up and down, wanting to exchange pleasantries of the morning but not quite sure what to make of this elder war house in the strange uniform.
"Good mornings" were passed, and after a few moments, the winsome lass plucked up her courage and asked, "Excuse me sir, I was wondering..."
"...What country are you from?"
;^ )
Even with that my exposure to Marines was minimal.
My father had served on the USS Midway as a Aviation Ordanace Chief to the F-4's (he later became a instructor on the F-4 Weapons systems)
As such he was invited in the mid 1990's to her ceremony for retirement
While visiting "officers country" and myself having accompanied my father in civlian clothes, I observed a well dress fellow standing by. I recall my father making several remarks when i was younger of there being "coffee stewards" in "Admiral country" on aircraft carriers.
So I inquired of the gentlemen if he could aquire me a cup of black coffee.
What he failed to tell me were those "coffee stewards" were US Marines. And my misofrtune continued as this one was an officer of what rank I have since forgotten.
I'm not sure who was more embarrassed or who laughed the hardest. Myself, my father, or the Marine.
I used to be "other exotica" also... but alas... I am "just" a spouse now.
*sigh*
That is a great story. I was so ignorant of Army Stuff that my dad had to 'splain things to me. He had a chart in his office (I have since commandeered same) that showed the ranks of all the services (both enlisted and officer as well as which ones were company, field, and general and warrants), and had me memorize it so I would not embarrass myself nor the Uniformed One. This was important; sometimes we were the exotica at Family Events and other gatherings.
While the troops were on the town, I was summoned to the Mayors Armed Forces Ball and attended with LTG Rick Brown, the 5th Army Commander. We were attired in Mess Jackets and had just handed our empty cocktails to a waiter who was off fetching a refill when we were approached by one of Chicago's dowager elites. Her drink was likewise empty, and she gave quite clear instructions to LTG Brown on how she expected her drink to be prepared. He listened carefully and hustled away to answer her wishes. I then explained to this diamond bedecked lady who her waiter for the evening was. Priceless.
Case in point. My FIL's funeral at Fort Riley. OUR Old Soldier requested to be laid to rest on post and with the full honors. He was estranged from his birth family and to him the Army WAS his family and had been since he was 17 so he wanted to lie with them.
So my hubby is there in KS Hiway Patrol dress uniform and my son in his cadet dress blues per his grandmother's request. It so happened that the honor guard we drew were mostly so new they squeeked. Seriously. I don't think there was an E-3 or up among them other than the Sgt in charge.
After it was all over, JC went over to give them the family thanks, and it was funny to see them try to figure out if they needed to salute him or not. All they could see was the blood stripes and the cover, so I do understand their confusion until they saw the JROTC patches.
Re that day - I held it together for the sake of my MIL until JC came to attention at Taps, saluting his grandfather's coffin. Grapefruit in throat time. Of course, I knew by that point that the cadet uniform would be giving way to the real thing within the year.
There I was, a Sgt of Marines, with my Marines in tow, looking for a bank or other instution that could cash their checks so my boyos could get paid.
I'm walking down a road on this Army base and, in normal USMC custom, swinging my arm up in a hand salute at everything that comes into view with shiny crap on their uniform collars.
While doing this, I'm thinking to myself "hell, is everyone in the US Army an officer? And why are these officers so damn young?"
Ah...nothing like reading the TINS aloud to the Engineer, the Young Man and the CLUs. We gather of an evening every now and then, and share these stories. Sort of like an online version of 'The Waltons'.
When i went to Mizzou (and probably studied Army ROTC under your Dad) in '61-'63, the fanciest hotel in town was the Holiday Inn. I was an underclassman then, my frosh and soph years, and we didn't do Dining Ins or Outs. I saved that for my USAF experience 4 years later. Besides, I was GDI, not Greek, and had my own social life, which I tried to cram in after the varsity Rifle Team, and oh yes, classes.
That means that Columbia must be very cosmopolitan nowadays, and Hinkson Creek probably flows through a culvert...
And yes, Columbia has changed a lot since you were in college and I was in kindergarten. And 61-63, Dad would have been on the faculty.