The 21st Birthday

Anonymous

February 1982, my 21st Birthday and first trip offshore, the nausea and headache a mixture of anxiety and hangover. The climb up the stairs of the chopper was a surprise, the effects of super hot spent paraffin fumes almost ended in no stomach contents.

Strapping into my seat now and old hand looks across with a wry smile and eyeballs my pallor, "first time?" he asks, "Aye" says me.

After the alarm it took ten seconds for the smell to hit us... burning !

We were still on the stand but blades turning, the engines whined before starting to run down and the ever cool pilot turned round to address us; "sorry chaps, small engine fire but dont worry we'll get you to work" Smart arse I thought.

The Glaswegian behind me exclaims "ya dancer" before closing in on my left ear to shout in his best Scotty from Star Trek, "the dilithium crystals are damaged, we'll never make it captain."

Back to the departure hovel at Aberdeen heliport, everyone looking at their feet or staring blankly at the horizon, mixtures of boredom, quiet acceptance and the old north sea chestnut 'hurry up and wait'.

Growing up in the 70's I loved Kung Fu with David Carradine, I should have expected the unexpected, the whole offshore experience was far from normal and the training at RGIT was surreal. When we were practicing for a crash in a fake helicopter upside in a swimming pool, a crazy Geordie inflated his lifejacket and nearly drowned. I laughed so much that I nearly drowned, and incurred the wrath of the stern Ulsterman in charge, "so ye think its funny greenhorn eh? Just wait till your legs ripped off or your face is melting."

This aside did not dampen my now heaving laughter and the dilithium crystal Glaswegian (same training course but update) chipped in " I you tell him pal, ye canna win the pools if ye burn yer coupon."

I think this is where the madness started really, the blind acceptance of those souls around me that the clearly surreal or concretely insane was a normal state of affairs, apparently not even worthy of mention.

This state of affairs continued with a man who called himself Dr Death, he convinced me within 5 minutes that my chances of surviving in the North Sea were less than an infantrymans on the first day of the Somme.

So With this in mind my 21st Birthday kicked off with an engine fire, severe nausea and world full of comedians.

The second aircraft did not catch fire; it took us on a 2 hour flight in severe weather and hovered for an eternity above a gyrating helideck waiting for the chance to land at something close to 180 degrees. It thudded on the deck heavily, I thought it had crashed but no one else seemed to bat an eyelid? Just me?

I was told where to stow my "gear" and it turned out to be a tired looking smelly 4 bunk dorm, 6 slept in it in a 24 hour period, the camp boss called it hot bedding! The first 3 nights were to show me the realities of alcohol withdrawal syndrome; the man on the bunk above was called shakey Jim. I soon found out why, AND he spent 3 nights vomiting into a towel, his rancid heaving made the bunk shake and I was so pleased to escape to the freshness of the diesel fumes from the generators on the main deck.

The combination of the journey out, bile fumes, lack of sleep and being on 40,000 tons of steel 100 miles from Bergen disorientated me.

This was not helped by meeting the "gaffer". The man bestrode the main deck like he owned it, barking orders to the shoe scrapings he called employees. Like Robert Duvall in Apocalypse Now he was made of steel, inaccessible and probably indestructible. I couldnt read him, I was just out of my depth, I was scared. Written on the side of his safety helmet in stark bold black paint were the words "move mountains", I was feeling overwhelmed, what did it all mean?

I went to introduce myself to him in my crisp new boilersuit and boots, no need, before I could utter a word he asked do you walk the walk as well as talk the talk"? I couldnt answer, was I supposed to?

He now looked irritated by my perplexed look, "you here to work or work your ticket"?

"To work" I say, "where do I start?"

His finger rests on my chest now, staring straight at me he says, "0600 your on this deck, you work to 2100, there are breaks if you need them but I dont"

I said quietly (I think) fifteen hours?

"Roger" he says "but there's overtime if you want it, I know you want it!"