I Experimented Underway

By A LT Who Didn’t HATE Guam

We had been in EMCON for two months and tensions were starting to run high. Sleep was in short supply, and I found myself with the unenviable job of editing (and often doing much of the writing) for what would end up being an 800 page mission report. Assisting me with this task were two other JOs. 

At this point in the underway all I wanted was something new and exciting to provide some sweet release from our monotonous and stressful existence.

If you had asked me at the start of the deployment if I would ever consider doing this one little thing, I would have scoffed at the mere idea. Yet here I was, alone with the two of them in the quiet confines of the Yeoman Shack. The door was checked shut in the shut position, and nobody would be bothering us anytime soon.

“It’ll feel a little strange at first, but then it’ll start to feel really good”, said one of the other JOs.

“Just go ahead and put it in your mouth, we do this all the time, and it’s really a game changer,” added the other.

Nervously, I took it and put it into my mouth, trying to ignore the new sensation and focus on fixing the incoherent entries made by the recorder on the swings watch. Slowly, a sense of euphoria spread throughout my entire body in a way that I’d never felt before. They were right - this was AWESOME. 

“Fellas,” I said, “This is great! You guys do this all the time?”

“Yeah man, multiple times a day. Sometimes I do it right before I hit the rack just to end the day on a high note. You know a large chunk of the crew does this too, right?”

“I heard rumors about that, but most of the guys seem to be pretty discreet about it,” I admitted. “I just didn’t realize how good it really is. Just promise you won’t tell my wife, okay?”

They nodded in agreement. 

I always thought my first would’ve been a cigarette. 

It was simultaneously my first time throwing in a ZYN and my first nicotine experience and for the rest of the underway, I never looked back.

ZYN made churning through page after page of mission report entries not just tolerable, but kind of fun. It kept me focused as the Drill Lieutenant when we finally pulled off station and began the ship wide convulsion that is preparing an Engineering Department that has spent the last 80 days answering the same bell for weeks at time for an ORSE. 

I didn’t care what the people back home would think about this sudden change in lifestyle…I was along for the ride.

Like all good things though, my brief and passionate affair with ZYN came to a somewhat undignified end. While standing a proficiency as EOOW during a surface transit, my Electrical Operator offered me a flavor and strength that I was not accustomed to. As the watch went on,my stomach turned on itself and my mouth began to water. Sweat beaded down my forehead as I stole glances at my wristwatch, counting down the minutes until my relief would arrive. At last, he came into maneuvering to turn over. I had ridden the nicotine dragon to survive another day.

Suddenly, the ship took a roll. I began to projectile vomit onto the Electrical Operator. 

The quote by the Greek philosopher Archilochus that “You do not rise to the level of your expectations but fall to the level of your training” popped into my head and I covered my mouth with my hands before redirecting the straight stream of my stomach contents into the Maneuvering trash can, where the vast majority thankfully ended up.

By the time I made it forward to wash out my mouth and brush my teeth, the news of my defeat had spread rapidly through the ship. I could hear the MJ in the Engineer’s stateroom whoop and I knew, without hearing, what the call was about.

“He did WHAT in the Maneuvering trash can?” the Engineer gasped before descending into a fit of laughter.

With my mouth still stinging from stomach acid, I reflected ruefully on the last few weeks. My flirtation with nicotine had been exciting and new, but it was time for it to end. Like a maritime Icarus resplendent with wings of nicotine salt, I had fallen to my own hubris.

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