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Uber-Urban Oilfield Gate Guarding

Raise your hand if you think mud sucks

Never been a fan of that Big City thing that so many folks got going on. Not that there is a danged thing wrong with it; just not my dealio.   Oh, I did it for decades; commuting through traffic snarls, wearing shiny shoes  and the like but it was like dying from a thousand cuts.  So you are going to ask, right?  Just how in the hell did you end up in the middle of the Metromess dude?

Well, it went like this…. We had our bags packed on 12/14.  Filed a flight plan with Miss Kathy and got it approved and even plugged that San Antone into the sassy talking GPS.  Then we got The Call — ‘ Hey, I need a favor….’  Whatcha going to do?  The Boss Lady had been good to us over the months,  always true to her word and generally just leaving us alone to do the job.   So while she was sucking up big time on the phone, I was  turning over the options in my brain.   I could:

  • a) Acknowledge the karma debit/credit thing and man up and help her out.
  • b) Play the bad connection thing-  ‘Hey, you are breaking up (make static noises); I am afraid I am going to lose you.’  Turn off the phone and leave it off until we got somewhere south of Lampasas.

What to do?  What to do?  As if it was ever in question.  We ended up just south of Ft Worth in a mud hole field next to a high speed train track behind a foreclosed car dealer.  Home for the Holidays baby!   When Tuco the Dog hates it, everybody hates it.  The assignment was supposed to last 14 days.  On the 5th day, the Chesapeake Company Man drove out of the location, rolled down his window and tossed this out.  ‘Y’all are released as of 12 noon.’  Hah, like he hurt my feelings!  So again, we packed our stuff and attempted to point the caravan south.

A clear dawn at the parking lot.

Foiled again friends and neighbors.  Boss Lady had something else she needed us to do.  This time we ended up in the mid cities area of the Metromess inside I20.  Christ on a Biscuit!  This is the land of wall to wall apartments where people jog with dogs on leashes.  We are Chesapeake parking lot attendants.  They are fracking a small urban pad about 8 blocks down the street and there is no off street parking for the sand trucks.  As you well know, you cannot impede the progress of people jogging with large dogs so they had to stage the trucks elsewhere.  That is where Miss K and I enter the equation.   I gotta say this is a cushy gig.  The gate is 7a-7p and the sand trucks are checked in and grouped according to what type of sand they have on.  When they need ’em at the frac site, they call ’em on the CB radio and out the gate they go – two by two.   Honestly, it is such a sweet and easy deal I doubt we stay here long.  Boss Lady will stick one of her urban warriors in here and send us up country somewhere. I just got that feelin’.

The shadow of the sound wall swallows the Suburban

In the meantime, our urban gate guarding education continues.  Our service guy called me and wanted to know if I could fill in for a guy who had a dentist appointment –4 hours he said.   ‘Sure, why not.’

So I call the guy and he has a pronounced Yankee accent and he says he is not a very good housekeeper so I will have to sit in the Suburban.  No big there, I know they will have porta johns. I have my Kindle to pass the time so off I go.   The pad was tiny and he had a pony rig and some boys working on containment completion when I got there.  The towering sound enclosures turned the sound right back atcha and I felt like I was in the bottom of a bathtub.  Ain’t this a helluva way to make a dollar folks?   Well 4 hours turned into 6 and it was getting dark and cold.  I thought about calling the guy and asking him if he had gotten sidetracked but decided against it.  After all, he was a Yankee and taking advantage of folks’ good nature is the way business is done up yonder.  When he finally showed back up, I grabbed the long green and got outta Dodge.

Thai food fit for a king. That is a high dollar paper plate too.

I checked in with Miss Kathy and she said to pick up a Cheeseburger on the way home.  I got to thinkin’  we can do better than that and I got a pocket full of cash so I told her ‘No–let’s have Chinese food delivered.’   She one upped me and said ‘Let’s do Thai food.’  Obviously, I married above my standing because we both love good Thai fixin’s.  I may be an itinerant redneck but I don’t just eat beans and lard.

 

 

The Thai food was delicious, the gates were closed, shades were drawn and there were multiple shows to watch on the DVR while we ate.  If I listened real close I could almost hear the traffic whizzin’ by on I20.   Carpe Diem. 

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Uber-Urban Oilfield Gate Guarding, 10.0 out of 10 based on 3 ratings
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