Steak & Stupid

Years ago I had a friend named Bob Powers. Didn’t really know him for very long, little over a year, but for that time we were kindred spirits. At the time we were both electronic technicians in shops that were close to each other.
I don’t really remember how it came to pass that we started our Friday ritual but nevertheless we did. Actually, let me take a moment to clarify some things. Bob and I were Air Force. The locale was Clark Air Base in the P.I. (Philippine Islands) in the early ‘80’s. Side note: I didn’t see a lot of the videos that MTV showed until the mid ‘80’s because of being out of country. But…I digress. When not busy doing Air Force work, there were pretty much but two activities (you can also count as an incredibly distant third activity: going to the movies on base). And those activities in order of preference were drinking and the other as it turns out was not drinking.
Bob and I worked out this deal where on Friday’s after work we’d motor on over to the base commissary (military grocery store) on our motorcycles and purchase 1 ½ inch thick steaks. We would then transport them to Bob’s house off base and then marinate them and barbecue them. This is where the actual ritual would begin. We would take the steaks and marinate them in San Miguel (skunky local beer) for 20-25 minutes. And while the aforementioned steaks were marinating in the skunky beer the blender would come out and each week a new adventure in alcohol experimentation.
This whole operation worked on many levels. The level of drinking although excessive was not inherently dangerous because we didn’t have cars. Local transportation was provided by mainly two types of vehicles and operated by the local nationals. The trike (a motorcycle with sidecar) and jeepney (open air bus). Both items looked, acted, and felt as though they were better suited for the Flintstones. But they were all that we had.
By the time the steaks were done marinating and had headed for the grill, we were getting mighty hungry, as does also occur with the alcohol consumption.
The most memorable concoction was daiquiris made with 151 rum. Lordy, those were good! And mighty fast too. Powerful medicine.
That’s kinda it actually. There really isn’t an amazing twist to this. No big finish, as it were. It’s really just me stumbling down memory lane. Yeah, sure, there were people (not me) who woke up naked on a barroom pool table the next morning, and okay, yes, someone (not me again) ran through the off base neighborhood naked (he was a fighter pilot actually), and there are stories about legendary pajama parties with contests and prizes awarded…(that one actually was me!). Folks are pretty flexible in a tropical island setting ten thousand miles from home. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
But hey, those are all stories for another time. Oh, I almost forgot to tie in the title of the post. Bob and I eventually came to refer to this event as Steak & Stupid. Good times, good times.