A Sea of White Cotton

It's Fleet Week.
For those of you who don't live in New York, or never saw Sex and The City, Season 5, Episode 1, I'll explain.
Fleet week is that magical time of year right before Memorial Day when the armed forces dock their ships roughly 3 blocks from my apartment, and my block plays host to a steady stream of men in uniform headed into town for some well deserved fun.
I'll be more specific. My block is the block they dock on. Roughly EVERY sailor and soldier passes my apartment. It's like a spectator sport. 2 years ago a friend and I just set up lawn chairs on the corner and watched the parade of worked out men in flare pants and funny hats. And the week is ripe with the possibility of one night stands with hot men who have been "not asking, not telling" for months at a time. Not that I'm one night stand guy (Haven't been in like 2 years), but the possibility is still hot.
If my computer wasn't off in the bowels of some Dell servicing center right now, This post would be accompanied by a picture of sailors. Like this.
My Point?
I don't have one. Sailors are hot.