The other day, my nephew asked,"could you come to the mall with me and help me pick out some clothes for college?"

 That really brought back memories. As I drove along the interstate to the mall, I said to my nephew,"let me tell you about my own fashion experience and just what it really now means to me for someone to value my opinion on clothes."

 It all started many years ago, when I got my first job after graduating high school. Every once in a while I would cross my legs while I was sitting at my desk. There always seemed to be a lot of laughter in the backround whenever I crossed my legs. One day, I got curious and asked. "What was so funny?"

 This girl sitting at the desk behind me explained that. "I was wearing one black sock and one blue sock again."

 Furthermore she stated. "I was wearing a stripe tie with a stripe shirt."

 When I said. "Whats wrong with that?" The entire office started to erupt with laughter. Thats when I realized that I was a fashion idiot.

 When you go to a private school for eight years and wear the same uniform everyday, I guess you can get a little out of touch with what you're wearing. Compounding that factor, when I went to high school, most of the kids there had also gone to private grade school and fashion never seemed to be a topic.

 There was a near by Sears Department Store, and I guess we thought thats how everyone in America was dressing. Even Babs, a former student there was picked as one of Hollywoods worse dressers. But at the time I was in the School, we were number one scholasticly in the entire nation. So maybe bad fashion can spell academic achievment. But then again, I have to wonder with all the spelling mistakes I make.

 Anyway, the girl that was laughing the hardest asked me. "Can I go shopping with you and pick out some clothes that match?"

 Clothes that matched was really a new concept for me, but I was game. My charge card got quite a workout, but it was worth it and I learned what a body shirt was and my pants seemed a lot snugger than before. She really knew her stuff. It was quite a transformation. Thats when I figured out that the right clothes really do make a difference.

 Now that I was dressed for the world, I started to think about all the places I would love to travel to. Up till that point my furthest trip from New York had been a visit of Washington D.C.

 I thought to myself. "My God, I'm getting old. I'm now a High School graduate and I haven't even left the Country yet."

 Anyway, I started doing the math. I figured on the salary I was making I could afford to go to places like the French Rivera in about twenty years. Too long to wait. I was geting older by the hour. I had to do something drastic. Then I had a brainstorm.

 I thought. "If I joined the Navy, I would get to see the World and they would even pay me a few dollars for coming along on the trip. I would save on Air fare and use the Navy ship as sort of a floating Hotel. I could wine and dine at the best places till my money ran out, and then I could fall back again on slumming it at the ships Mess when I had to."

 I figured. "How bad could it be traveling around in a Navy ship?"

 After all, if I could deal with taking the subway to work everyday, a Navy ship would most likely be a step up for my travel mode.

 So I did it, I signed up, but that pesky fashion problem came up again. Seems like the Navy wasn't very happy when I was wearing a pink shirt at a dress uniform inspection. What even made it worst was the fact that I got the same Lady XO that I checked in with when I first arrived.

 That night, it was very dark, and I triped over a tree bark and got my dress uniform all covered with mud.

 So when she noticed me in the pink shirt, she said. "You're that guy from New York again. I got to hear this. Tell us please why you're wearing a pink shirt."

 I said. "XO, it was white yesterday, but I had red ant problems."

 She said. "What kind of red ant problems Sailor?"

 I said. "The kind of problem when you put your Sea Bag down to say hello to someone and then a half hour later, you realize that the red ants climbed into the Sea Bag and totaly infested it while you were talking."

 Then she said. "Okay red ants. But how did the shirt get pink sailor?"

 I said. "I decided to take my sea bag full of clothes over to the self service Navy laundry and just wash all the red ants out of my clothes. It all started out okay. At first I put half the bag in, sorting everything very, carefuly. But then I noticed that there was a jute box and a beer machine close by. So after a few songs and a couple of beers, I guess I got a little careless. I somehow put in a brand new pair of marone pants in with my dress white shirts and I guess the marone color ran somehow, because when I pulled the white dress shirts out of the machine, they had all turned pink."

 The Lady XO broke into hysterical laughter and just said. "The truth can sometimes be very funny."

 Then she smiled and said to me. "Meet me at the Navy laundromat at 1300, I will show you the marvels of what bleach can do."

 Anway, we got to talking over some bleach magic and I have to say. "She was really okay."

 That was what they call Navy A school. Yes, I learned a few things there. But the next comedy would be my Navy Dream Sheet. After you learn Navy talk at the A School, then you get to see where you are going.

 Of course, I thought "I was going to Europe. Oh yes, the bikini clad girls on the French Rivera, the beautiful Neopolitan Girls in Naples. Yes, real Civilization."

 Virtually everything I put in for on my dream sheet was for Europe. So when I got my orders, I couldn't wait to see what part of Europe I was going to. You can imagine my surprise when I looked at my orders and found that I was slated for Pacific duty.

 I went to Admin and said. "There must be a mistake on my orders."

 Admin said. "No mistake."

 But I said. "My dream sheet, I only requested Europe."

 Then I was told. "Its a dream, only a dream Sailor. The Navy sends you where they need you, and right now they need you in the Pacific."

 So, I was on my way to sunny California. I thought. "Its not Europe, but hey, they have a lot of beaches there. So what, if their void of any culture there, at least they have Mickey Mouse and Disney Land, and I always wanted to see Universal Studios someday anyway."

 But yet another dream would soon be dashed. I arrived at the Ship I was assigned to, only to find out that we were leaving for an 8 month West Pak the following day.

 I figured. "I couldn't see much of California in one day, so I decided to head to Mexico with a bunch of guys who said they were having one last fling there before we pulled anchor. And what a fling it was. They have some mighty powerful drinks South of the border. And the place we went to never closed."

 That morning I headed out on the 8 month West Pak with virtualy no sleep at all. I needed something to pick me up. I figured. "Well, how bad could Navy coffee be. If I could survive an entire day and night of partying in Mexico, I guess a cup of Navy Joe wouldn't kill me."

 I had to go up to the Bridge and get some information, I noticed there was a full pot of coffee there. So I figured. "Well maybe this will do the trick."

 I started to gulp down the cup of Joe, but then I noticed it had this taste, like it was oil or something. I took of the top of the pot and looked inside. There seemed to be a thick type of a tar like substance. It looked like the coffee pot wasn't scrubed in years.

 Of course, I was far from an expert on how to make a good pot of coffee, but I remembered what I had learned about the coffee pot, back in the office. One time I noticed that one of the girls in the office was cleaning the coffee pot, and I said to her. "Let me see what you're doing, so I can take a turn at cleaning the pot."

 There seemed to be a lot of heavy scrubing involved.

 She told me that. "It wasn't enough just to rinse out the coffee grains. Cleaning the pot of any residue makes all the difference."

 I was a quick learner and I took my fair share of turns cleaning the office coffee pot and everyone seemed satisfied. So when I noticed all the lead like coffee residue inside the Ships coffee pot, I knew what had to be done if I ever wanted to have a decent cup of coffee on the Bridge.

 I didn't want to attract any attention, especially since I was still the new guy in town, so I acted like the pot was empty. Even although it was about half full. "I said, better take this over for a refill."

 I headed to a deep sink, closed the door and poured that lead type film down the drain. Then I took a steal wool pad and scrubed the heck out of the pot. I could see years of coffee film going down the drain.

 After a few minutes the pot was cleaned and perking away. I poured a cup of the coffee and my hangover started to go away. Now I could finish up what I was doing and get some overdue shut eye.

 Just as I was about to turn in, I heard the Captain sreaming on the 1MC. He said. "Whoever just made coffee on the Bridge, report to the Bridge immediately."

 I walked back up to the Bridge wondering if someone croked or something drinking my coffee, but I figured. "Well what could I do? I got to the Bridge and told the Captain, yes, I did it, I made that coffee."

 The Captain stared at me for a few seconds, and said. "Are you sure you made that coffee?"

 I said. "Yes, Im sure."

 Then he smiled and said. "That was the best cup of coffee I ever had on this Ship."

 Then he asked. "What did you do to it, that made it taste so good?"

 I laughed and said. "Well, some dame in New York taught me the secret."

 He said. "What secret is that?"

 I laughed and said. "Cleaning the pot, at least once a year or so."

 He smiled and said. "Hot damn, why didn't I think of that?"

 I laughed and said, "I guess you had a couple of other things on you're mind like getting the Ship ready for an 8 month West Pak."

 As I headed back off the Bridge the Captain waved his coffee cup and said. "Cheers."

 After a good nights sleep, I went topside and took a deep breath. I was amazed at just how fresh and clean the Ocean air was. We were a day out into the deep and already I noticed a few Whales in the distance. We passed Pearl and then started to see the fish that fly. The ocean was now my aquarium.

 As the entrance to the Mall came up, I said to my nephew. "I didn't mean to ramble on the whole time."

 But there was no response from my nephew. I looked over at him, and then realised that he had his walkman over his ears and hadn't heard a word I said.

 Than I thought to myself. "Thank goodness I didn't bore my nephew with one of my sea stories."

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