Marine McLovin and the Watch Negotiation

Six proud days had passed since I had sung my way to glory and now I was back on my old stomping ground with only two friends in tow. Dubs had joined me for a night of tequila and watery beer and with him was our schools head instructor Stanley. Stanley is from Chicago and acquired his name due to his delight at some ice hockey team winning something called the Stanley Cup. He even bought a cigar for the occasion, so Stanley seems a fitting moniker.

It was to be a lowkey evening of drinking, eating chicken and complaining about trivial matters that do not warrant complaints. But as we whined and sank shots of tequila, a group of five US Marines approached us and asked us where we were from. Teachers and soldiers don't tend to mix a great deal and it is fair to say that amongst the teaching community in general the opinion on soldiers is somewhere between poor and diabolical.

But this group of shaven headed, hulking, trained killers seemed a friendly bunch and before long we were exchanging stories. For every tale I heard of a gun battle in Basra, I would regale them with the time that the air conditioning in my classroom was not working and the temperature soared to 32C!!

As they ran us through their weapons training, we told them about photocopying our weekly test sheets, and I believe both groups got an insight into a way of life they could barely have imagined before this informative meeting.

The Marines were all called incredibly American names such as Chip, Hank and Donovan. But I liked them, and we soon agreed to head to a Sheesha bar and smoke flavoured tobacco over a few more drinks.

And it was here that Corporal Mclovin bared his soul. If you have seen the movie Superbad, then you know full well who Mclovin is. If you have not, then google him and imagine an identical human being on steroids.
Mclovin had been the quietest of the bunch until we got to smoking and now he began to tell us about his fiancee who had ended their relationship by text message saying "the distance was too great".

Stanley asked where they lived in the US, and Mclovin explained that she was a soldier too and she was based in fucking Seoul. I wasn't having that.

"The distance, is too great? No disrespect Mclovin mate, but she's a fucking idiot. The train gets you to Seoul in less than 2 hours. I know you loved her, but this might be for the best, you don't want simpletons for children."

Mclovin went very quiet and our group stopped talking. Apple flavoured smoke drifted past my face and the only sound that could be heard was a gentle bubbling of the water in our sheesha as Dubs smoked thoughtfully and watched.

Mclovin: "Yeah. It was some bullshit. I found out she cheated on me dude, I did everything for that bitch...but fuck I still love her."

Me:"I understand lad, but listen, to me Mclovin, you have to move on, be glad you found out that she was a selfish, cheating bitch now and not when you were married with 2 or 3 little Mclovins running around."

Mclovin looked at me and nodded, but his lip was trembling,"I know, but I don't know how to get over her"

I suggested that maybe he could turn his unhealthy love for her and the pain of loss into a more constructive hate. To take every happy memory they had and twist it in his mind into something poisonous and vile, wish ill on her and hope that she got moved from Seoul to say Afghanistan.

He didn't seem so sure. In fact I could see his eyes beginning to well. NO! I could not see this. I don't like to see a grown man cry at the best of times, but a grown man who looked uncannily like Mclovin from Superbad? That would be awful. And a grown man who looked like Mclovin from Superbad who was a trained killer and had bought me a beer? That would be unspeakably dreadful.

I needed to think fast and I needed to make him see the positive in all this. But how? Some sort of snappy one liner that offered hope. Something original and maybe using a metaphor or two. He saw this woman as the one that got away. How to symbolise this?
Of course! Fishermen. Fishermen talk of the one that got away about a prize fish. So women could be called fish for the purpose of my line. Brilliant.

All I needed was to give him hope, let him know that out there in this vast world there were many women who he could find who did not think 1 hour and 45 minutes on a train was too far to make an engagement work for a year.
But what to call the world?

Think Roberts, damn you, think. YES! It was so obvious, the sea. Fish live in the sea and if one gets away there are always more. I smiled to myself; a moment of inspiration once again, and I could avert the disaster that would be a US Marine sobbing onto my perfectly ironed polo shirt.

I tried it out. It did not fail, although I thought for a moment I caught Dubs and Stanley rolling their eyes. Perhaps the metaphors were too subtle for them, who knows and who cares?
The important thing was that Mclovin was back from the brink and our group began to talk of better times and more beers.

We headed out into the night and as we wandered towards our next venue, another soldier appeared, shouting to our soldiers (yes they were ours now) he ran up to join us and then without warning looked at me, looked at my wrist and said "Hey dude, nice watch. I want to buy it, how much?"

I would be lying if I said I was not a little taken aback. But my time with the US Marine Corps had taught me to be prepared for anything at any time. I gave him a quizzical look and said "Sorry?"

Marine in need of a watch:"Your watch man, I like it. I want to buy it off you, seriously. So just give me a price, but listen don't be a dick and say something stupid like One Million Won okay? So come on, how much?"

I affected a look of contemplation and pursed my lips as if battling with numerous thoughts and then looked at him with as blank an expression as I could muster...

Me:"Erm...I'd say about One Million Won".

The sale fell through, and after a brief visit to Mcdonalds, our trio of intrepid teachers parted company with our military friends and headed for home, afterall we had a busy week ahead of us and the owner of our school was holding a meeting this coming Monday to "boost morale".
Perhaps I should have invited Mclovin in hindsight, but I think his morale was boosted enough for one week, so it would have to be a teachers only affair at our teachers meeting.

And what a meeting it turned out to be...

Until next time, this was Monkey Roberts.