In Chicago
i've never been in chicago area long enough to get a good impression of the place. That one time in glee club it was a day and a half, and it was cold. Then last may, i only was out here for 3 days, and didn't leave Wheaton.
Now, i know better. I've been in the chicago suburbs since march 13, excluding the 4 days I came home. I know that chicago is a city surrounded by industry, surrounded by small towns. I know that traffic out here is horrendous, and that IDOT is as bad as PennDOT for construction. I know that while I can see the horizon, I miss mountains. I know that there are numerous quarries in the area, and that demand for stone is high. I know at two of those quarries very well now. And now I know how to get to the Field Museum and the aquarium from my hotel.
The drilling job goes well. I get on with all the drillers really well - we're always making jokes and making each other laugh. I have become more vulgar and crass out here, but it helps me fit in, and always happens in the field. Thanks to one of the helpers, the phrase "son of a bitch" is more a joke than anything else. I am sick of the pro geologists out here. They pick on the littlest things, think they're better than we are, and are generally making me have headaches. Things with them are so political. I can say what I want with the drillers, but when i meet up with the Brains, i have to watch what I say, and how I say it, lest it be used against me. I hate that. I like working on the rigs - the anticipation of the next run of core, watching machines and men flow smoothly in their work, the occasional laugh-out-loud episode, the comeraderie (sp?) of the workers. But when I have to watch every step, I feel uneasy and uptight, and wrong.
This job has also been fodder for good stories.
We moved one of the CME rigs to an area that had just been through a controlled burn (part of the endangered dragonfly study at Romeoville - seriously!), and mike proceeds to get a GMC 5500 with a water tank stuck in mud up to it's axles. Chris had to use the drill rig itself to pull the truck out, and i spent the entire time laughing and pointing at mike. It continues to be fodder for jokes.
Another time, mike is sulking about having to be a helper, rather than driller. Jeff returns from a Dunkin run with coffee for me and chris, hot chocolate for mike, and a little tiny cup with "Baby Cup" on it. Chris and I were cracking up, but Mike was not amused. I try not to bring this one up to him, though it continues to make me laugh.
Nick, the manic helper, pulls up to the drill one day, and with no reason whatsoever says "Hey Nate, fuck you, you bastard!" To which I replied, "You wouldn't like it, I just lie there." He, and everyone else who heard it were practically on the ground laughing.
I had been trying to get on Butch's good side - he was a little cool towards me at first. Probably worked with a few dickhead geologists previously. But at one point, the engine on his rig starts dripping out this thick, dark liquid, some type of grease or oil. as he and billy are working on the engine, he yells out "Hey Nate, what did you do to my rig?" I said something to the effect of "not me" and went to take a closer look. Then I said "Man, that thing's dripping like my woman!" which got butch to grin from ear to ear. He says "if she's dripping like this somethings wrong" and I says "yeah, I should probably take her to a mechanic" which has him laughing even more. Butch and I are on pretty good terms now.
My truck has been so dusty, the guys started writing on it. For a while, my truck proclaimed my love for terry, asked jeff if he wanted mou shou pork, and had at least two smiley faces. Though i washed it last night, i'm sure it'll get dusty again real fast.
I might be home for easter. we'll find out. The job will probably go on past that, though.
think that's all for now.
Now, i know better. I've been in the chicago suburbs since march 13, excluding the 4 days I came home. I know that chicago is a city surrounded by industry, surrounded by small towns. I know that traffic out here is horrendous, and that IDOT is as bad as PennDOT for construction. I know that while I can see the horizon, I miss mountains. I know that there are numerous quarries in the area, and that demand for stone is high. I know at two of those quarries very well now. And now I know how to get to the Field Museum and the aquarium from my hotel.
The drilling job goes well. I get on with all the drillers really well - we're always making jokes and making each other laugh. I have become more vulgar and crass out here, but it helps me fit in, and always happens in the field. Thanks to one of the helpers, the phrase "son of a bitch" is more a joke than anything else. I am sick of the pro geologists out here. They pick on the littlest things, think they're better than we are, and are generally making me have headaches. Things with them are so political. I can say what I want with the drillers, but when i meet up with the Brains, i have to watch what I say, and how I say it, lest it be used against me. I hate that. I like working on the rigs - the anticipation of the next run of core, watching machines and men flow smoothly in their work, the occasional laugh-out-loud episode, the comeraderie (sp?) of the workers. But when I have to watch every step, I feel uneasy and uptight, and wrong.
This job has also been fodder for good stories.
We moved one of the CME rigs to an area that had just been through a controlled burn (part of the endangered dragonfly study at Romeoville - seriously!), and mike proceeds to get a GMC 5500 with a water tank stuck in mud up to it's axles. Chris had to use the drill rig itself to pull the truck out, and i spent the entire time laughing and pointing at mike. It continues to be fodder for jokes.
Another time, mike is sulking about having to be a helper, rather than driller. Jeff returns from a Dunkin run with coffee for me and chris, hot chocolate for mike, and a little tiny cup with "Baby Cup" on it. Chris and I were cracking up, but Mike was not amused. I try not to bring this one up to him, though it continues to make me laugh.
Nick, the manic helper, pulls up to the drill one day, and with no reason whatsoever says "Hey Nate, fuck you, you bastard!" To which I replied, "You wouldn't like it, I just lie there." He, and everyone else who heard it were practically on the ground laughing.
I had been trying to get on Butch's good side - he was a little cool towards me at first. Probably worked with a few dickhead geologists previously. But at one point, the engine on his rig starts dripping out this thick, dark liquid, some type of grease or oil. as he and billy are working on the engine, he yells out "Hey Nate, what did you do to my rig?" I said something to the effect of "not me" and went to take a closer look. Then I said "Man, that thing's dripping like my woman!" which got butch to grin from ear to ear. He says "if she's dripping like this somethings wrong" and I says "yeah, I should probably take her to a mechanic" which has him laughing even more. Butch and I are on pretty good terms now.
My truck has been so dusty, the guys started writing on it. For a while, my truck proclaimed my love for terry, asked jeff if he wanted mou shou pork, and had at least two smiley faces. Though i washed it last night, i'm sure it'll get dusty again real fast.
I might be home for easter. we'll find out. The job will probably go on past that, though.
think that's all for now.