No Parking

The events described herein are true to the best of my knowledge.   I shit you not.

As chance would have it, this particular sea story happened on land.  No matter.

I attended Naval Officer Candidate School (OCS) in the summer of 1991 in Newport, RI.  In OCS, much of what is done is educational--courses in everything from maneuvering with a fleet, to subsurface/surface/air weapons, to propulsion, etc.  Much is physical--daily PT, etc.  Much is ceremoneial--marching, for example.  Marching (as in marching in a parade, which we did on July 4 that year) involves sorting ourselves by height and then lining up four abreast, tall to small, with the battalion commander in front, and the guidon bearer in the right-most position of the front row.  That was me--the guidon bearer (or just guidon for short) for first battalion.  Back when I was there, OCS was 16 weeks, culminating in a graduation ceremony.  The base in Newport was fairly large, but our little slice of it was not frequented by most folks...so we had it all to ourselves.  Traffic was light.  Crowding was non-existent.  In fact, due to end-of-cold-war downsizing, we housed all four "battalions" (companies, really, in all but name) on a single floor of a four-story barracks, the rest of the structure being empty.  Come to think of it, this was one of two barracks buildings, the second one being completely empty (as far as I know, anyway; it may have been used for something other than OCS).

So when graduation day arrived, it was quite a culture shock to see throngs of people--mostly family members of the graduating young ensigns--lots of traffic, and no parking.  It was this last point that burned me.   OK, I burned myself, but it had to do with the unusual lack of parking.  I don't even remember what I was doing on this particular morning, but as you can imagine, there was a lot to do, and everything had to be perfect.  We wanted it to be just-right, anyway.  Something or other was wrong or missing, and I volunteered (or perhaps was appointed) to take care of it, possibly because I had a car nearby.  Well, my short trip in the car became a bad dream when I returned to the graduation building (the gym, as I recall) to find no parking spaces available.   Frustrated, I quickly drove around (not too quickly...the last thing I wanted was to hit a pedestrian, or even be perceived as remotely menacing), but all my secret spaces were occupied.  As the bad dream became a nightmare and I felt increasingly franctic (and at least a little desperate), I did see one empty space.  And it was conveniently located right by the door to the gym.   Perfect!

Not really.  The  problem was that it was an assigned space.  And assigned to not just anyone....  The sign said COMNAVSURFLANT.  Commander of all naval surface forces in the Atlantic fleet.  The first time I saw it, I didn't even slow down.  But the second time...  I thought it over.  I didn't know that particular admiral--or any of the others, really.  I had met NAVSEA(08) two years prior, but that did me no good at all on this day.  I quickly and qiuite foolishly talked myself into it.  Whoever he is, surely he won't be in attendance.  After all, this is mostly for immediate family.  Never mind that the base personnel would not have set up a VIP parking spot for him if he were not going to be there.  I parked in his spot, got out of my car, and was just about to take a step toward the entrance to the gym, when a car pulled up.  I don't remember the make or model, but I remember it being quite nice...way nicer than the beat-up, crappy 1976 Camaro that I owned at the time.  As I looked at him, I noticed a disappointed and disapproving look on his face, and he asked, "Do you know the commander, surface fleet Atlantic?" 

"No, sir!"

"Well I do, and it's me."

I don't recall what I said at that point, or even if I said anything at all.  I hope I offered an apology, because I surely owed him one.  What I do remember is what I did, which was to hustle my butt back into my crappy old car, get out of the admiral's parking spot, find a far-off, distant parking that was meant for me, and double-time (or maybe it was triple-time) back to the gym on foot.  I barely made it in time to take my position as guidon.

The rest of the ceremony, and indeed the entire day, was smoooth sailing.