Mongo
Okay, so we have this third mate who isnt exactly the sharpest pope in the woods. After some seriously bad driving and failed pickup attempts with a female NAVO, we took to calling him Mongo. Nice guy, just severly not good at his job or social situations. We renamed the helm display mongo-vision To this day we can tell who is driving the boat by looking at the imagery, but his real time to shine was the first week. We run survey lines. That's what we do. Striaght lines. Every NAVO in the lab was sitting around the screen watching the nav and laughing, taking bets, or gaping slackjawed as he missed the line more than five times in a row. You almost never see them miss it once. Today the Navigation went down. GPS lost it's mind, it happens every so often. The screen locked up and had to be reset. No big deal. What was a big deal is that this mate continued to navigate by this screen for fifteen minutes despite the fact that nothing was changing. Not coastlines, position, speed, time. Nothing was moving. He was just flying blind, happy in his little world. *twitch*
EDIT:
I'm getting really freaking tired of pulling up frayed cables that used to be attached to four hundred pounds or more of expensive scientific equipment. Lost a coring dart last night. But third mate was the highlight of the evening again. The hose we use to clean out the shipek has developed a nasty spraying leak at the nozzle. Since we need to leave it on to do our stuff, I've taken to tossing it over the side of the ship so it doesnt get anyone wet. Anyway, Mongo walks over to where the hose is and leans over the side to get a full facial spray. He squints, caughs, sputters and flails his arms like a kitten that just got hit with a watergun. That was mildly entertaining. What was far more entertaining was that the moment he caught his breath, he did the exact same thing again. The third time he did it, I took pity and cut off the hose so he wouldn't drown. I'm hoping momma mongo didn't leave a hot stove unattended for long.
EDIT:
I'm getting really freaking tired of pulling up frayed cables that used to be attached to four hundred pounds or more of expensive scientific equipment. Lost a coring dart last night. But third mate was the highlight of the evening again. The hose we use to clean out the shipek has developed a nasty spraying leak at the nozzle. Since we need to leave it on to do our stuff, I've taken to tossing it over the side of the ship so it doesnt get anyone wet. Anyway, Mongo walks over to where the hose is and leans over the side to get a full facial spray. He squints, caughs, sputters and flails his arms like a kitten that just got hit with a watergun. That was mildly entertaining. What was far more entertaining was that the moment he caught his breath, he did the exact same thing again. The third time he did it, I took pity and cut off the hose so he wouldn't drown. I'm hoping momma mongo didn't leave a hot stove unattended for long.