I see a flotilla command in your immediate future, maybe a tour in Berlin or Paris after that. While the rest of us smell the salt air and the odor Bernard left after eating all those bad eggs, you'll be smelling the odor of clean pressed uniforms during the day, and french mistresses at night:rotfl:
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"Helm, bridge...what are you doing 60 degrees off course?"
"Bridge, helm...coming back from 90 degrees, sir."
  
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