Many years ago, I was the senior Reservist instructor on drill weekends at Building 521, Naval Gunnery School, Great Lakes, Illinois.  The building itself was a massive structure, a block square, whose walls were made of thick, green-tinted glass and steel.  Hence, the place was known as the "Green House."

 

I had to go into the base on a non-drill weekend for some personal business and to do some shopping at the Navy Exchange.  I had a ladyfriend guest with me who was interested in seeing the facilities.  Our attire was casual and Nancy's included some rather snug-fitting bluejeans.

 

As I was showing Nancy the points of interest, I asked if she'd like to visit Building 521 where I worked and trained Reservists on weekends.  She agreed.

 

We entered through the south entrance door and I checked-in with the security watch at the quarterdeck.  Building 521 is actually a building within a building.  Once inside its green walls is another three-story structure that contains the classrooms and administrative offices.  Along the east and west sides of the building are various operational systems that the school teaches.  These are the actual shipboard systems that act and perform exactly as the same equipment does aboard ship -- with the exception that the guns don't shoot and the missiles don't fire. 

 

We walked around the classroom module, and I described the various systems.  We came back to the quarter deck about 20 minutes later.  While I was signing us out, Nancy decided to inspect the two antique cannons that were on either side of the ladders to the second level classrooms.  [She was an antique buff.]  These antique cannons had been captured from a Confederate raider during the Civil War.  When I turned about, I noticed that Nancy was standing up against the classroom wall with very strange look on her face.  I went over and asked her what the matter was.

 

" I just ripped the seam on the back of of my jeans."

 

"Ah, I think we may be able to fix that."  I quickly checked my watch and saw we had about 25 minutes until the NEX Tailor Shop closed for the day -- at noon on Saturdays.  While I did my best to preserve her modesty, Nancy slithered out the door and into the car.  We then drove the three blocks to the Tailor Shop.

 

When I arrived, I told Nancy to stay put while I talked to the manager.  The shop manager was a friendly Filippino woman in her early 40's.  I explained Nancy's problem and asked if she could help.  The manager said, "Absolutely.  Bring the young lady in."

 

I went out the car, got Nancy, she slithered into the Tailor Shop, the manager whisked her behind the curtains leading the back room, and into a changing booth.  Nancy quickly took off the torn jeans and handed them to the manager.  The manager took them to a sewing machine and deftly sewed-up the ripped seam in the back.  Everything was finished in about 15 minutes and Nancy and the manager came out from the back room. 

 

"How much do we owe you for the "emergency repairs?" I asked the manager.

 

"That's OK, consider it on the house.  I was glad we were able to help the lady out of her predicament."

 

When we got back in the car, Nancy said to me: "This was embarrassing.  Weren't you embarrassed."

 

"Not so much embarrassing, but it is kind of funny how we handled it."  I replied.    "We lucky that the Tailor Shop was still open and luckier still were able to get the torn seam fixed.  It won't ruin the rest of the day."

 

"I will tell you one thing.  Your small accident really gave the 19-year old watchstander on the quaterdeck something to tell his buddies about when he gets off watch."

 

We both got a good laugh talking about how the watch was going to tell this story to his buddies.