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"The Old Pilots' Bar"

Four old retired helicopter pilots are walking down a street in Houma, LA. They turn a corner and see a sign that says, “Old Pilots' Bar - all drinks 10 cents.”

They look at each other and then go in, thinking this is too good to be true.

The old bartender says in a voice that carries across the room, "Come on in and let me pour one for you! What'll it be, gentlemen?"

The bar looks fully-stocked, so each of the four orders a JD, neat.

In short order, the bartender serves up the four shots and says, "That'll be 10 cents each, please."

The four aviators stare at the bartender for a moment and then look at each other.

They can't believe their good luck.

They pay the 40 cents, finish their drinks, and order another round.

Again, the bartender pours four shots of JD, and again, the bartender says, "That's 40 cents, please."

They pay the 40 cents, but their curiosity is more than they can stand.

They have each had two drinks apiece and they have spent less than a dollar.

Finally one of the aviators says, "How can you afford to serve bourbon as good as this for a dime a drink?"

"I'm a retired ag-pilot from Tulsa," the bartender replies, "And I always wanted to own a bar. Last year, I hit the Lottery jackpot for $225 million and bought this place. Every drink costs a dime -- wine, liquor, beer, it's all the same."

"Wow!!! That's quite a story," says one of aviators.

The four of them sipped their drinks, they couldn't help but notice seven other guys at the end of the bar who didn't have drinks in front of them, and hadn't ordered anything the whole time they were there.

One aviator gestures at the seven at the end of the bar without drinks and asks the bartender, "What's with them?"

The bartender says, "Oh, they're all fighter pilots. They're waiting for Happy Hour, when drinks are half price..."

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Heh. Tip of the dented steel pot to DesertFlt...


Bill! You Evil Bastard!
P. s.  JD has a sweet taste in it. As we all know, imbibing carbs, and simple sugars in particular, predispose one to developing diabetes. When it comes to whisky, I likes me some Famous Grouse.

 Nice one, Bill!  I prefer me some Blantons or Knob Creek, even Jim Beam, though.  Never did like Jack.

Doesn't matter -- they're still 10 cents a shot.

Until Happy Hour, anyway...
As we all know, imbibing carbs, and simple sugars in particular, predispose one to developing diabetes.

Gee, and here I'd always thought it was genetic.

Ya live and learn. Pass the Guinness...
So, iz ennybody gonna make sure the Lex sees this?
Your cue, QM.

*off to kill hornets under the neighbors' patio*
Zu befehl herr Major! I'll post the link over at Lex's place.
Dad said, "Then they'd roll dice to see who had to pay."
Then they'd have to determine who had the most hours in a Link.

Since this occurred at an airport, and I read it too fast, I thought it was the Bill T clan's annual orgy.

Then I noticed it said turtles.  :)

Turtles seeking to lay their eggs caused delays at New York's John F. Kennedy Airport this morning.

"We may have a few delays, but nothing significant," Arlene Salac, the Federal Aviation Administration's spokeswoman, told the New York Post.

Read more:

I'm gonna have to steal this. Saturday I'm the emcee at the fireworks display we're having here and our state rep was a Marine pilot - needless to say the group at the end of the bar in my telling will be Marine aviators.
 I linked this from my place.  Too good to pass on!