One of the first lady navs on Dominie had to use the 'thunder box' whilst going through turbulence. The result? Blue parts being washed down with cartons of Orange Juice by the NCA instructor. Would have been alright if it was one of the stunners - although I'm sure she was for some of the NCA I knew!
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F14 exchange USN RIO (read nav) on the F3 transitting back from Cyprus. The food of the good 'ole US of A had not prepped his lower gut for the delights of the Shalimar Curry House in AKR. The result? A full strip down in the back of the jet and then a very well aimed dump into his white cardboard packed lunch box! Someone had some pictures having flown inverted over the top with a camera clicking away at the poor chap.
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First night madness and another Nav had a few too many Brandy Sours in the Mess at AKR. He comes storming out of his room in the morning threatening to kill everyone for smearing crap all over his walls, until someone pointed that he should look at the state of his own hands. Thence on known as Bobby Sands for the rest of the APC!
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Ex DYNAMIC IMPACT (I think) from Moron AFB. The Sqn has drunk all the river bars in Seville dry of Baileys - served in what seem like pint pots. The next day everyone is passing Baileys through their No 2s. Someway out over the Atlantic off the coast of Portugal the formation leader announces that his Nav "needs to go home". Portugese and Spanish ATC are very accomodating and clear us straight line to Moron AFB for an 'in flight medical issue'. As we break into the circuit at Moron the Nav calls "It's too late!!". Luckily he was wearing a goon suit, so a hose was just popped into the neck seal for a complete wash out!
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The worst I ever had was a yellow alert after the transit from UK to AKR. We were met at the steps of the F3 by the advance party and bussed straight to the last 20 minutes of Happy Hour. I was bursting. So I made straight for the Gents throwing off G-pants and pulling my flying suit around my ankles thinking that a No 2 may also be in order. As I sat down, my fella went between the bowl and the seat - I let rip and watch a beautiful golden arc going into my flying suit around my ankles. I do not have the sphyncter power to shut of the 270 Bar of urine coming out of my body. I then have to wash my flying suit in the sink and then spend the next 20 minutes standing there in my boots, T shirt and undies drying it under the hand dryer and explaining what has happened! And I missed Happy Hour and ended up with one of the crap rooms in Animal House...
LJ