A friend of my uncle was a SWO type in Pensacola from '87 to '89. He was the type of guy who (apparently) never met an average looking girl. In his stories, they were always "the hottest girl you have ever seen." And he was always ready to one-up any story. "You think
that's crazy, well this one time ..."
Anyway, getting back to the point, he claimed the pensacola O-club was always filled with hot chicks looking to hook up with young aviators, and always willing to hear the sea stories from the older ones. The way he talked, it was the friendly neighborhood hangout that could put most frats to shame. Kind of like the X-rated version of "Cheers." Also, there were endless elaborate rituals - most involving drinking, buying drinks, getting molested by the occasional fat chick, or making fun of SWOs. As a SWO, he was naturally looking at things from the outside.
I'm sure there is a core of truth to all this, but it is hard to separate it out. Myself and a few Ensigns from my API class had the opportunity to drink at the rescued Cubi Point O-club (in the museum) with a bunch of Commanders who had just screened for squadron CO billets. It was a good time, and we did learn a new way to play dice
. Of course there was a lot of talk about the "good old days" and the attempt to make everything more PC, and hence less fun.
From my perspective, it looks like some of the camaraderie has gone out of Naval Aviation, and there doesn't seem to be as much of a chance to relax and have a good time. I have always been a devotee of the "work hard, play hard" philosophy. Now with "recreational ORM," political correctness briefs, and fewer O-clubs, it seems like the Navy is trying to tell me to work hard, then go home. I still have some hope that things will improve when I get out of the training commands. I hope it doesn't sound like I joined the Navy to party. I joined the Navy to do something good for my Country and for myself, and I intend to be the best pilot that I know. I don't see how this precludes partying, however.
Maybe this is too much elaboration. After all, I am just a "dewey-eyed young skull full of cottage cheese" trying to find his way in the Navy.