Something Looks Different

We started out this hitch -1 on our regular crew. 

“The Redneck” wasn’t going to be with us this hitch because he had just worked for 4-weeks so that “Cupcake” could go to school. Or something like that. So “The Redneck” was leaving to have a month off as we were coming in with “Cupcake” as a fill-in.

Then, halfway through the hitch, “Junior” got transferred to different boat in the fleet. So we went to -2  on the “usual crew o-meter”. 

We did get sent a new deckhand to replace “Junior”. So far we haven’t gotten around to giving him a nickname yet. It’s only been a couple of days. We’re working on it.

Annoyingly, he hasn’t fell victim to “The Contest” yet. Thankfully, “Junior” did before he left, which made his departure a bit more tolerable. Misery loves company. We didn’t want him to escape unscathed.

So, to sum up…

Cupcake is here, Junior is gone, we haven’t come up with a nickname for the new deckhand, and The Redneck is probably passed out in a drainage ditch somewhere. It is St. Patrick’s Day after-all.  

Because he's nautical

SON OF A...

Ready? Set. GO!!!

There we were, all set for a Houston, TX crew change. Sitting peacefully at anchor waiting for our berth to become available. The "Contest" was in full swing. Life was good.

And then the phone rang.

"Pick up the hook and head for Corpus Christi (my favorite place) ASAP!"

The best laid plans (and flight arrangements) laid to waste.

So began the tugboat version of a "Chinese Fire Drill".

As we were starting the engines and getting ready to haul anchor in order to get underway, we were also waking up the guys who were off-watch. We had all booked our flights to leave out of Houston the following day. All of those flights were now null-and-void. We also had to call our reliefs to let them know that their Houston plans were also just sent directly to the garbage can (or recycling bin, for those who are environmentally conscious).

Our wheelhouse isn't designed for 6 guys to be talking on the phone, booking flights on the computer, and sending text messages/talking to their relief as I'm trying to maneuver the boat. Or any other time, for that matter.
Plus, some people on our crew are more technology savvy than others. Which becomes blatantly obvious when you have less than an hour for everyone to complete all of the required cancellations and re booking before we get offshore far enough where Internet and phone is no longer available. Time was of the essence. Monkeys. Footballs. You complete the sentence.

Even with mass confusion and chaos reigning, we all managed to get everything done before communication blackout arrived. We even got a phone call saying our berth would be available upon arrival in Corpus Christi. Which was a relief, considering past crew change performance and the less-than-stellar forecast for the next few days. Plus, going to anchor would mean another day of the "Contest". Berth on arrival sounded good to us.

Sometime during the morning hours, berth on arrival, turned into "go to anchor". Which then turned into "the job might be cancelled". Which turned into "we don't know". Our second best laid out plans might be going into the recycling bin as well.

As it turns out, we went straight into berth. The Captain has a few less hairs from being unceremoniously ripped from his head during all of the commotion/uncertainty. But at least one thing went as planned. Berth on arrival.

The eggs would finally live to see another day

However, as all things Corpus Christi crew change go, it's not all rainbows and unicorns. TPWSNBN decided that it would be easier for the guys flying in to just keep their flights into Houston and then drive to Corpus. So we don't expect them to be at the boat until 3:00 AM. At the earliest.

In addition, we also got to perform a random drug test when we got to the dock.

No better end to a trip than getting off the boat a couple of hours late, in Corpus Christi, after having to pee in a cup.

This blog practically writes itself.

SIT REP

SITuation REPort

I lost.

I survived the first time we were at anchor. But then we went to a different port, anchored offshore, and the contest was started anew.

I forgot.

I woke up, came down to the galley, and less than 20 minutes after we dropped the hook (and less than 5 minutes after I woke up), I got busted. 

So 5 Jalapeno peppers for me it was.

Oreo's favorite drink

The only consolation I have is that I wasn't the only one. The Chief Engineer and one of the Tankermen got busted as well. Some of us took their punishments more gracefully than others. We had to institute a "five-minute cooling down period" between the time you got busted until the time where you once again eligible to participate again. It allowed for a 5-minute tirade of swears and maritimer-type language to be expelled free of charge to let you "think about what you have done".

I may not have been happy about it, but I did manage to take my punishment tirade free. However, I also took my punishment with a full plate of dinner, a LARGE glass of milk, and two slices of bread.
It kind-of helped.
Sort of.
Maybe.

We are once again at anchor. The "Contest" is back on. I wonder who will fall this time?
It better not be me.
If it is, you can be assured I will use all 5 minutes of the allotted "cooling down period" to let my feelings be known.

The Contest

When you sit at anchor you tend to get a bit bored and a little bit stir crazy. Honestly, we would all much rather be working than sitting around counting down the minutes until crew change. First of all, it makes the time go by faster.  And secondly, “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop“. 

When you put seven guys together for two weeks the pack mentality has a tendency to take over. Practical jokes can be the norm. We have an innate ability to try and push each others buttons. For some reason, our “go to move” is to attack each other with homosexual references and gay double entendres.  Last hitch things got a bit out of hand. You could scarcely say a word without someone muttering some sort of snide remark about that person’s sexual orientation. 

This led to the Captain enacting “The Contest”. 

Simple in theory. 

Starting at noon, no one could say, reference, or infer anything remotely homosexual towards anyone else on the boat for the next 12 hours. 

Simple right? 

Are you Master of Your Domain?

For the next 12 hours I have never seen a boat quieter or have seen people avoiding contact with each more in my life. The place was an abandoned ghost town. It was a lot funnier and a lot more difficult than originally thought. Amazingly, everyone behaved. No one lost and we all got a good chuckle out of the lengths that people went to in order to follow the rules.

Well contests are only fun when someone wins or (in this case) loses. So this hitch, we enacted the same contest. Starting at midnight, “The Contest” would begin anew. This time there would be no 12 hour limit. We would play until we picked up the anchor and continued with our work. It could be 3 hours or 3 days. There could also be multiple winners/losers this time. The punishment was determined to be 5 Jalapeño peppers to be consumed in rapid succession (when we go grub shopping again I want to up the ante to Habaneros).   

Our fearless leader, one of the originators of “The Contest”, was the first to feel the wrath of the Jalapeños. He didn’t even make it 12 hours. Realistically, he didn’t even make it a full 6 hours, considering that he was off watch and asleep for 6 of those hours. “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it” would seem to be an appropriate saying. We all got a good chuckle out of the Captain turning different shades of red as he ate his lunchtime pepper punishment.

It’s only a matter of time before the next crew member falls.

I’ll let you know if it’s me. Although it may take a while for me to be able to regain the ability to type on my computer. 

I’m of Scottish and Irish descent. 

I might just melt.

"Hey, did we mention..."

 I had my fingers crossed that we were going to make our 2359 Thursday night crew change. 

“Hey, did we mention that the berth you are going to won’t be available until later than you planned?”

And so started the first kinks in our well laid out, well thought out plan.

“Hey, did we mention that the product you want to pump off is too hot for the terminal to accept?”

More delays. But then... hope

“Hey, did we mention we can pump this stuff off faster than we thought we could?”

The barge guys step up to the plate. We’re back on schedule.

“Hey, did we mention there is supposed to be fog tonight?”

Run slow for reduced visibility (aka fog). Curses!

“Hey, did we mention that the river level is up and you can make really good time running with the current?”

Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead! Back on track.

“Hey, did we mention that the customer wants you to run slow to conserve fuel?”

Nooooooooo!

“Hey, did we mention the winds and the weather offshore will be in your favor the entire trip across the Gulf?”

ETA here we come!

“Hey, did we mention that there is no launch service available to run the crew offshore?”

So instead of arriving at our destination exactly when we said we would, we have to run 3 more hours to get to a different destination, so that we can get to a location where a launch boat is available.

“Hey did we mention that someone told the launch boat that it was going to take 5 hours to get to the secondary destination instead of just 3 hours?”

So even though we are already 3 ½ hours late, we are now going to have to wait for another hour and a half until the launch boat is available.

“Hey, did we mention the launch boat is only certified to run 6 people at a time?”

Now we have to leave at least one guy behind, and the launch boat is forced to make two round trips, in order to change out the entire crew.

“Hey, did we mention that there is a security zone around a passing ship?”

Of course, this means that if the launch boat encroaches too closely, or passes too fast, the U.S. Coast Guard will turn your boat into Swiss cheese.

“Hey, did we mention you are now six hours late and your flight leaves in one hour?”

Too bad we still have an hour and a half drive ahead of us just to get to the airport.

“Hey, did we mention that you have to go to both airports in Houston?”

Airports that happen to be on completely different ends of the city and are at least an hour apart.

“Hey, did we mention that there is a snow and ice storm on the whole entire Eastern seaboard?”

So even if your flights don’t get delayed, at least you get to drive home in an ice/snow storm.

Well, we did our part.

We made our ETA and arrived just when we thought we would.

Too bad everything else blew up in our face. 

Hey, did I mention that is the exact reason why I write this blog?

Time and tide wait for no man

When our boat initially came out of the shipyard we used to crew change at 0600 on Tuesday mornings. When we got repositioned down to the Gulf of Mexico it shifted to a 2359 (military time) Tuesday crew change.  We usually catch the last flight out Tuesday nights and the first flight home on Wednesday mornings. Now, we are supposed to switch over to Wednesday 2359 crew changes.

In theory, this is all well and good. You still get two weeks off after spending two weeks in prison on the boat. But the problems occur when people can’t plan a proper crew change or just don’t want to come back to work.  

Case in point…

This year we worked on both major holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Now Christmas was on a Tuesday. So, being the nice guys that we are, we told the other crew that a Tuesday crew change didn’t make sense and that Wednesday would be better so that they could spend Christmas at home with their families. Makes sense, right? Well, the “person-who-shall-not-be-named” decided that he didn’t want to come back to work on Wednesday either. He decided the he didn’t want to come back until Thursday. So even though he got to have both holidays off, we wouldn’t be able to go home and celebrate Christmas with our families until Friday. Not cool! Alas, that is exactly what happened. I’m still not happy about it.

Well, fast forward the two weeks that we are home and it was once again time to prepare for the on-coming crew change. Which is now screwed up because the “person-who-shall-not-be-named (TPWSNBN)” pulled his little “not wanting to come back to work” stunt is now on Thursday night.

Except it isn’t. 

Now it is on Friday night at 2359, because they didn’t plan ahead and were at sea on Thursday.

Except it isn’t.

LaQuinta !!!

Because when they got to the Mississippi River the river was closed due to fog. So even though we had to fly into New Orleans on Friday night, there was no way to get to the boat. So we got to stay at a hotel on Friday. So now the running joke on the boat this week is that every time we see one another we shout, “LaQuinta!!!” Because that’s where we stayed. The LaQuinta Inn. Which is seriously less funny when you try to explain it.

So now crew change is going to be Saturday morning.

Wait for it…

Except it isn’t.

Saturday noon?

Closer.

Saturday afternoon? 

Bingo!

After a wonderful Continental breakfast at the (shout it with me) LaQuinta!!! Inn. And a subsequent stop at McDonalds to get 16 breakfast burritos (because we could). And a stop at the local Wally World to shop for grub. We finally got on the boat at 1330. 

So a 0630 Tuesday crew change, which really is a 2359 Tuesday crew change, which due to Christmas was a 2359 Wednesday crew change, which because TPWSNBN decided wasn’t acceptable to him was a Thursday 2359 crew change, which turned into a 2359 crew change on Friday because of poor planning, which got delayed until 1200 Saturday crew change because of weather, actually took place at 1330 on Saturday.

We are supposed to get off the boat at 2359 on Thursday.

I’ve got my fingers crossed.

Dad of the Year?

Happy little trees

When you work on a boat six months out of the year you are bound to miss some things.

Birthdays, Anniversaries, Christmas, assorted other holidays (my favorite being Arbor Day), and the birth of your son (that’s a fun story).

Sometimes you also get to miss the less than enjoyable things. 

Like your 5 year old daughter going to the hospital for surgery to get her appendix removed.

My daughter had, what we thought, was a bit of a stomach bug for the last two days that I was home. She was nauseous and had a fit (or two) of throwing up. Nothing terrible. She is a grade school kid who attends a petri-dish called kindergarten. A stomach bug or a cold can be expected. Thankfully, she was feeling much better on day #2 and accompanied me to the airport for my journey back to work. 

The next day, she spiked a fever and was just generally miserable and not her usual joyous self. So off to the urgent care clinic she went.

They too, were under the impression that it may just be a stomach bug. But the pediatrician seemed to think that something didn’t just add up. [Bad pun Alert] His gut feeling (uggghh) was that there was something else that may be the problem. 

She doesn't look miserable

So off to the hospital they went. 

Blood tests, poking and prodding, ultra-sound, and some other assorted tests later, the people at the hospital thought that she might have appendicitis. But they weren’t sure. Mainly due to the fact that my daughter wasn’t your atypical appendicitis sufferer. Most people are in so much pain and so miserable that they are hardly able to function. Not my daughter. Nope. She was giggling and playing around and poking her brother. Miserable was not an adjective you would have used to describe her. So they gave her some IV fluids and some antibiotics to try and clear up the “stomach bug”, as we were still calling it. 

The next morning she was her usual jovial self. The hospital was all set to discharge her and send her on her way. And then she spiked a fever again. Back to the drawing board.

This time they went full on crazy with the tests. Blood work. Ultrasound. CAT scan. DOG scan. Some other scan. The full Monty.

Might have appendicitis, turned into, “She needs to go to the children’s hospital in Charlotte because she HAS appendicitis.”

Okie-dokie. 

So off to Charlotte they went.

Now fast forward two days, and they are on the way home. 

Minus one appendix.

My kids are troopers. My son had pneumonia and spent over a week in the hospital. My daughter had appendicitis and could have cared less and wanted to play in the playground at the hospital the whole time. It’s a good thing they inherited their pain tolerance from their mom.

And what did Dad contribute to this whole situation? 

Not a G#@-damn thing! 

I’m on the boat. Seven-hundred miles away. I have a cell phone. That’s about it. 

I’m not quite sure it propels me into the category for running for “Dad of the Year”. But it doesn’t make me feel any better about it. 

Missing birthdays is one thing. 

Not being there for your kid while they are in the hospital is something completely different.

I like my job. But I really hate my job too.

I would be a total s#$t if I didn’t mention Shandi and Jon, our friends who stepped up to the plate and hit it out of the ball park for us. They were nice enough to watch my son and do all of things that I couldn’t do while my daughter was in the hospital. I am forever in debt to them and all of our other friends that offered to help. THANK YOU!!!