I can’t remember what a Fluffy Duck looks like, but I know I’ve had one. When I did my basic parachute course in 1991 at a Naval Air Station, the “Senior Sailors Mess” hosted a group of would be cocktail servers and for 10 bucks you could drink as many cocktails as you could swallow.
Was a great night, and I met an old guy from the first British Para Regiment from WW2 who was fascinating to talk to. He’d parachuted into Crete and had been shot by a German soldier with a Schmiesser MP40 sub machine gun. Luckily for him it was pretty much at the extent of the little guns range so the medics were able to remove 3 9mm slugs from his chest and neck. Many years later he had a toothache so went to the dentist who found a large lump on his jaw which he thought might be cancer. Turned out to be another 9mm projectile that had been floating around in his neck and had migrated to his jaw. He wore it around his neck on a chain.
Anyway it was a great night, many, many cocktails were consumed, followed by one of the worst hangovers I’ve experienced, and it didn’t help that we had to do 3 jumps that day to qualify.
