Velociworld

Greeks Bearing Gifts

Many years ago, in my life as a steamship agent, I had the misfortune of having a Greek tramp vessel seized in port by U.S. Marshals for monies owed from a previous vessel call in New York. As the vessel had arrived foreign, meaning Savannah was its first US port of call, Immigration & Naturalization and Customs both put the lockdown on it. The USDA put a baby pimp slap on top of that, as they suspected medflies.

These 26 crewmen were fucked and rolled. They couldn't leave the vessel, their Athenian masters were forwarding no funds, they were at the mercy of my good graces for the simplest of tasks. And I were not a gracious person. I had smoked out immediately that anything I did for them would not be repaid, so it was a game of trimming one's losses.

I had a full plate of real, solvent payers. I had vessels all the time. I was lucky to get by every two or three days to check on these guys. The fact they were at East Coast Terminals, a private pier, and off my beaten path, did not make things any easier. Every trip to a doctor or dentist had to be coordinated with armed guards, and I had to have cash wired from Greece to pay the doctor or dentist up front. They were on the short list, and knew the drill, too. Cash.

No matter what I did for these people they were unhappy. I don't blame them, but it wasn't my problem. It was their deadbeat owners'. Every trip I made to that ship was a three hour ordeal of whining and crying. These guys were fucking crybabies. Mail this! Buy me some groceries! I must call my wife! My penis is gray!

After a month they were finally released, after their masters had paid their arrears, and I visited the vessel to pay my respects. The captain was exuberant to be going home, and toasted me with Ouzo. He also graced me with a bottle of Scotch.

When I got home I realized the seal was broken. I opened it, sniffed it, and realized I had been given a bottle of fetid Greek urine. Amused, I placed it in my china cabinet as a memento of the occasion. Now, The Bride had a friend staying with us temporarily, a girl who was frankly a rabid alcoholic we were attempting to get into rehab. Guess the rest.

I awoke one night for a whizz to find this girl on the den sofa with this bottle of urine in front of her. She was doing shots.

Did I say anything to her? Did I take the bottle away? Did I explain to her drunken ass what she was drinking?

You're damned right I did. That was disgusting. And she was drinking up my memento.