View Full Version : Maxim's wingman training manual

10 Aug 03,, 04:11
This seems to have been written just for Horrido & Snipe. That is, if it's just a flyer & his wingman, not a whole squadron.


Maxim’s Wingman Training Manual

Sure, you’d help a pal crack a beer, but would you help him crack heads? Our guide to being all the friend you can be.

Maxim, May 2003

Teamwork is essential when trolling for the ladies, but you’re only as strong as your partnership. And out on the prowl, things can get nasty. Friends who aren’t on the same page split up and get outgunned, they target the wrong girls…or worst of all, they target the same girl.

So it’s time to ask yourself: What kind of friend are you? Would you lie like a rug, fight like a man, and willingly take home a clock-stopper for the sake of a pal? All in the same evening? Would you chop an embarrassingly sloppy notch in your bedpost just to help a buddy carve a masterpiece? The following rules will guide you through most situations a pair of partners (or even instant allies) are likely to encounter in the field. Read them. Know them. Live them. We’d hate to have to ground you, soldier!

If he takes her home, he’s gonna blame you—so make like Jiminy Cricket.
Situation: Is he rip-roaring drunk? Sad-clown morose? On the lam after years on a men-only prison barge? Who knows? The dangerous thing is that his judgment of the fair sex is way, way off. It’s bad enough the girl he’s scamming sports circus-tent underwear, but all his pro boner work for the Pigs Need a Pork Foundation is killing any shot he has at primate sex…bringing you right down the evolutionary ladder with him.
Your mission: Saving your pal from sliding into skank is one of a wingman’s primary functions, so you must advise in the strongest possible terms against unsavory engagements. If he brushes aside your vigorous objection in front of at least one witness, you are officially relieved of your wingman responsibilities. But if it’s an encounter you’re 100 percent certain your pal will later regret, frag him with a smart bomb: “Hey, Bob. Tell her about your white blood cell count.”
Win: The Pokin’ Token, for Meritorious Prevention of Regrettable Skank

Misinformation is powerful social ammunition…Bombs away!
Situation: Your buddy is pinned deep behind enemy lies…er…lines, and now he’s trying to upgrade his McJob status with a string of whoppers—with extra cheese. The girls are becoming dangerously skeptical. After all, it’s not every day that two nice girls meet a billionaire Lamborghini test driver who also wrote the original screenplay for Gladiator.
The mission: Support his cockamamie story as if your sex life depended on it—no lie is too big or too asinine when two experienced soldiers are shoveling together. Did he just “confess” his nickname in college was King Dong? Time to tell the ladies how Miramax called about having him play the lead role in their upcoming John Holmes biopic. Is he claiming he invented the question mark? Explain what a bitch those five-cent royalty checks are to cash. Feel free to steal yourself a piece of his fame (“He only tests the concept car models I design”), but no matter how bizarre the crap coming out of his mouth is, always stay in formation and never leave your pal hanging; if he goes down in flames, so do you. So keep one hand clenched on the rip cord (“But enough about us. What do you girls do?”) in case his fortress of fabrication begins to crumble.
Win: The Lying Cross, for Conspicuous Achievement in Laying it on Thick

War ain’t pretty, and neither is “the friend”? This is your mission.
Situation: Your gunner has successfully engaged a sexy MIG (mighty interesting girl) at the bar. But danger lurks in the form of her booty-faced Klingon copilot, a bitter she-ape who’ll do or say anything to disrupt his flight plan. Remember, wingmen: If you’re not with him, you’re against him.
The mission: Once a pilot locks onto a MIG encumbered in this fashion, it’s up to his wingman to engage the bogey and remove her from the theater of operation. Feigning interest—buying her drinks, laughing at her stupid jokes, offering to read her hoof—may suffice to pull her aside, but if necessary, the wingman should be prepared to take her to bed (otherwise known as trekking the Ho She Man Trail) and bend the laws of God and man. If you find yourself saddled, literally, with such a mission, simply close your eyes, suit up (a biohazard suit is recommended), and get ready to fire in the hole. Needless to say, the pal benefiting from this sacrifice must keep his wingman’s awful secret until death; he also owes his suffering friend one beer for every one-to-10 point of attractiveness separating his beauty and your beast.
Win: Medal of on Her, for Valor Above and Beyond the Call of Booty

All’s fair in love and bar fighting—so where the hell were you?
Situation: You return from a well-deserved trip to the little boys’ room only to find your copilot up on the pool table in a Ralph Macchio crane stance, a broken half of a pool cue in each hand, surrounded by goons the size of Star Jones. “I’m warning all you sons of bitches!” he screams louder than Ron Jeremy getting a bikini wax. “I’m a third-degree black belt in karaoke.”
Your mission: Your primary duty is to protect both your asses, but if diplomacy fails, you might have to engage. How your pugilistic pal got himself into this predicament makes no difference; the Wingman Code of Honor is crystal-clear. For single combat, the rule of thumb is: Same height, let ’em fight; bad guy bigger, pull the trigger (uh, we mean jump in and help him out, not shoot him). Six of them and one of him? You’re duty-bound to stand by your pal, even if it means getting your ass kicked six ways to Sunday. (However, if his earlier dumbass behavior fully warranted this beating and this is the fourth beat-down you’ve saved his ass from this week, you don’t have to rush right in: Go on and finish your beer.)
Win: The Purple Dart, for Wounds Suffered in a Barroom Brawl

Love is wonderful…but not when it interferes with decadence duty.
Situation: Your former partner in crime has gone AWOL. Whether he’s brokenhearted and won’t engage (think Maverick after Goose died) or his new warden/wife has him in a choke hold, he’s stepped off the crazy train and is at severe risk of puncturing a ball in a knitting accident. As his good friend, he hopes you’ll understand. You won’t.
Your mission: This is a DEFCON 3 situation: You’ve got to bring your partner back into the fold as soon as possible or he’ll never be in a position to do the same for you. Tailor your plan to fit his malfunction. Broken heart? Bombard his office with strip club fliers, organize a field trip with the guys, and get him laid at all costs…even if you have to spring for the, uh, entertainment. Whipped? Use any pretext to get him out on the town with you—and once he’s there, hide the keys, pony up the shots, and get his little kamikaze pilot so drunk he won’t know Sarah Jessica Parker from Mr. Ed. Help him remember what life’s all about. Note: In no case should a wingman wait more than three months before mounting a rescue, and once the target has been acquired, watch out for pathetic attempts to slink out early. Remember, your partner’s not in his right mind, and you’re perfectly within your rights to block his retreat by tying his sissy ass to the stripper pole until he’s covered head to toe in body glitter.
Win: The Broken Shackle, for Outstanding Achievement in the Bachelor Sciences

It’s all fun and games until your buddy wakes up in the clink.
Situation: Your copilot is out of control—he’s about to boink the stripper at his bachelor party right in front of his future brother-in-law, or he’s channeling Animal House and pissing into open police car windows. Either way, he’s about to be more fucked than yo mama during Fleet Week.
Your mission: A wingman’s most sacred duty is to get his partner home in one piece, with body, mind, code of ethics, and arrest record intact. Of course you should tie his car keys to the back of his belt loop and throw the poor guy in the back of a cab after Denny’s, but that’s just the beginning. It’s your job to make sure he doesn’t do anything over the course of the evening that’s going to make him suicidally mortified—or divorced, or incarcerated, or dead—in the morning. When any of these loom large, the good wingman can and should resort to lying, bribery, guilt trips, a sucker punch, or a well-placed bitch-slap. (“Sorry, Frank. I’m doing this for your own good.”) Anything short of breaking the buddy code of silence is fair game; use your discretion. But whatever you do, never leave a man behind.
Win: The Golden Chariot, for Rolling Pin Concussion Prevention

Flight School

Confused? Just ask Gunny.

Q: If two pilots are after the same girl, who’s the wingman and who is the gunner?
Gunny says: “Support the woman’s right to choose, you self-worshiping tool. She’ll decide which o’ you smells like wedding cake. The loser must accept wingman duty.”

Q: Am I entitled to compensation if my buddy gets my ass kicked?
Gunny says: “Hell, yes. You have God’s own permission to kick your buddy’s ass up, down, and sideways, but only after the external threat has been beat down.”

Q: How do you punish an AWOL pilot who finds his balls and returns?
Gunny says: “Before being let back into the squadron, he must undertake three acts of atonement: (1) Give a complete, lurid account of sex with the woman he went AWOL for, (2) Buy the whole squadron dinner at an expensive steakhouse, and (3) Hit on every woman in the bar, using only the line, ‘Ever see an ankle-cuff monitoring device up close?’”

Q: Do I have to lend a flyer money if he’s broke and wants to buy a hottie a $40 shot?
Gunny says: “What kind of cheapskate, pissant question is that? You’re his wingman, scumbag! If he’s anemic and wants to get biblical with a vampire, roll up your sleeve and give the man a transfusion.”