Amy, "Dad", and Oil Rigs

#50 - I had three weeks off and I was going to visit my girlfriend, Amy, at her home. I would meet her parents for the first time.

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This week’s song – “The Song Goes” – on my CD – REMNANTS 

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    AMY, “DAD”, & OIL RIGS - pt 1 

I had three weeks off and I was going to visit my girlfriend, Amy, at her home. I would meet her parents for the first time. I was only a little nervous about meeting them but expected things to go well. 

After a couple of days at her home, we planned to spend a couple of weeks at the beach. Maybe Galveston, or Pensacola. If Pensacola, it would be easy to layover in New Orleans a day or two. 

I got along well with Amy’s parents, especially her dad. The whole family spoke with a heavy Cajun French accent. 

I had my own bedroom. 

The next morning at the kitchen table, where we were putting our plan together for the beach, Amy’s dad came in and asked me if I wanted to work a couple of weeks on an oil rig out in the Gulf.

I could see that he wanted me to say yes. And upon hearing what the job paid, I was in. It would be the most money I had ever made. He was in a managerial position for an oil company selling oil rig drilling mud and equipment.  

Amy and I were disappointed about our beach vacation being put off but agreed that it was the thing to do. 

We thought that “Dad” wanted to check me out in a work environment and also, to perhaps slow the rapid pace in which Amy and I were proceeding. Ha! I thought it was a clever move. I would have done the same. 

The next morning, I was at the company’s field office in Morgan City, Louisiana, at 4:00 am, filling out employment papers. I hired on as a roustabout – a laborer on an oil rig. I would work 7-days on, 7-days off (our beach time), and then a second 7-day shift before I would have to leave for home. 

At 6 am, I was on a crew boat with half a dozen other guys headed down the Atchafalaya River to the Gulf. By 8 am we were at the rig.  

We were only a few miles from shore. A thin strip of shoreline was visible, the rest was clear horizon all around but for numerous oil rigs spread out in the distance. 

We boarded the rig – a submersible barge with a platform atop that was refitting an oil wellhead.  

In about twenty feet of water, the barge was laying on the bottom, having been flooded in a precision operation that set the drilling apparatus directly on the wellhead where the refurbishing could be done for future drilling and pumping.  

The platform, the living and working parts of the barge, was high and dry above the surface. My job, for the most part, was maintenance of equipment, painting, and cleanup. I worked a 12-hour shift from 6 am to 6 pm.  

Three huge and delicious meals a day and frequent work breaks for snacks put a couple of pounds on me. 

The job of refitting this wellhead was almost completed, and the barge was being prepared for refloating and moving on to the next wellhead in the field of operations. 

Due to wind and choppy waves, we were delayed in moving for a couple of days. 

On the working platform of the barge, the derrick is lowered, and everything is tied down. Everything. The seas must be calm as first one end of the barge is pumped free of water while air is pumped in. The barge rises a significant angle before the same procedure is done for the opposite end regaining its level state.  

It is a challenge to walk and is stressful, taking hours to fully surface.  

The unit then motors slowly in calm seas to the next wellhead and is again lowered onto another wellhead by flooding the barge again. The navigation to the exact location of the underwater wellhead was directed by the newly introduced Global Positioning System (GPS). A real marvel, setting the large structure down on the ocean bottom on a target, the wellhead, less than half a foot wide.  

During this time much work is done on the barge itself. Both inside and out. Fully suited divers, the stars of the operations, made a lot of money. Their job was underwater in a darkness lit by portable lights,checking joints and surfaces for cracks, sometimes rewelding them making sure the barge was airtight and structurally sound. 

We roustabouts did a lot of painting during the transition applying a protectant and sealant to all metal that was exposed to the eroding saltwater nature of the environment. It was an ongoing process on the whole rig.

With plenty of time to spend between work shifts I spent it reading, shooting pool while watching TV, eating, and sleeping. 

The whole rig was lit up to facilitate the night shift. Only the brightest stars and the moon shined through the glare. A small patio adjacent to the sleeping quarters provided some relief from the light and was a fine place to look out over the Gulf. NO SMOKING. 

I was thinking Amy and I would go Galveston for a few days during the week I had off. This was not yet confirmed by Amy. We had only briefly discussed our plans before I left for the job.  

Cell phones existed only in the realm of Dick Tracy and the distant future. And there was no public ship to shore pay phone. Radio communications were for business and emergency only. Our vacation plans didn’t qualify. 

The week passed quickly and the boat with the next week's crew arrived bright and early. We switched crews and headed for the home base.  

I got back to Amy’s just after noon. We decided we would go to Galveston the next morning and return in time for my next week’s shift. Amy had friends there with a house on the beach. They had horses.  

We spent some time sightseeing. I especially liked the Longfellow-Evangeline Park along Bayou Teche. And Avery Island, with its salt dome and Jungle Gardens, is the home of world-famous Tabasco Sauce. 

That evening, we had dinner - Brothers, Sisters, Mom and Dad - at a restaurant in New Iberia. While they indulged in crawfish and shrimp, boiled at the table, I opted for jambalaya and red beans and rice. It was a feast. 

The next morning, in their back yard along the bayou, we enjoyed the fresh air with coffee and donuts under a moss-covered oak tree. A spirited game of croquet between myself and the brothers ensued. Did you know that croquet was a contact sport? It is the way these Cajuns played it. I didn’t win.  

“Dad” came out the back door and walked over to me. 

“There’s been a change in plans. You can start your shift tomorrow morning, if you like. You’ll be way out in the Gulf. You’ll go by helicopter,” he added.

Part 2 

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