Jim Trainer

the Rigs

In Uncategorized on January 21, 2011 at 12:51 am

Heath took me to a place called Out Tha Box up the road from the yard. He introduced me to Coconut, the Filipino barmaid.  I had two Buds and a chili dog before I was tearing back to my bunk to watch Rocky Balboa but the DVD wouldn’t load.

The yard boss and the job boss are both pains in the ass but me and Butch have relieved the tension by addressing them as “Sweet Tits” and “Shithouse”.

ASI is full of shit and Butch is out of money.  They said they were sending him out but it’s been a week since.  We been working in the yard, eating in the cafeteria and watching “Good Times” in the break room.

Our rooms are 3 beds and a toilet.  The food is southern, greasy and stupid.  So are the people.

Today I started Water Survival class. I sat in a simulated helicopter as it hit the water and it turned upside down. Knock out the windows and swim to safety for 8 hours of paid training.  Oh I got a tee shirt too.

After class, me and Butch walked to the bar to settle up w/Coconut. We got in there and out of the heat.  The place has no windows and is, well, a box.  Its pitch-black and Jaeger Machine red in there, the colors of death and blood.  Naming the place Out Tha Box was a master stroke of  beautiful irony b/c all you want to do is get out of there.  The crowd was on a Godsmack jag, the jukebox was blaring and death’s jaws opened wide.  The kind-of-hot-by-fencepost-standards girl was playing pool.  We watched.  Everybody watched.  We ordered two beers and Butch and I looked at each other. He handed me what looked like 87cents so we got up and walked out of there.

We all gotta die.  This place sucks.  Keepin my head above water, good times.

  1. […] Louis Armstrong International, Mischief Night ’07. Don’t get me wrong. Waiting to ship out on the rigs and working in the yard wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all, until I discovered how much […]

  2. […] When we arrived at the yard I met with the boss.  He deemed me “Unfit for Work Offshore” and told me to get the […]

  3. […] say that yes, it’s real. But not for long. My travelogues to Houston and Sequin and NOLA. My letters from the edge. And my rope-a-dope with the blues. All very real. It’s hard to shut it down when […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: