(Post #2) It's fucking freezing. Just scram and let me sleep!

As I’m not much of a writer, I don’t think I’ll use this blog to post extremely elaborated texts as I often see on the blogosphere. I’m just not up to it. Instead, at least for the time being, I’ll stick to describe experiences I consider relevant as I remember them, meaning they may refer to very different points in time, and therefore this shouldn’t be seen as a chronologically accurate log.

This particular one happened in my early twenties (looong time ago) back in time when I was a naval fire-fighter at one of the biggest Portuguese ship yards. It was around 00:30, I was on the changing room, and I remember we were somewhere in mid winter, meaning a temperature around 5 degrees C outside. Moving towards the sea, during night time, temperature progressively decreases, often to a staggering -2 or -3. Add the wind coming from the sea, on a ship deck at twenty something meters high, and that will feel like -10. You got the picture.

But let’s get back to changing room. I was dressing my uniform, and getting other stuff to enter the 1:00am shift. I knew it was going to be a long and cold night. I remember I was using (believe it or not) 3 pairs of trousers and 7 sweaters (including my uniform) and a thick feather jacket. Got my flash light, my wrench, my belt and my white helmet. Also got some comic books – they were my companion :) - and closed my closet.

Headed to the central to know my assignment. This was standard procedure, as all fire fighters had to report 15 minutes before the shift starts. This was a (poor) way of knowing who was present, and also the way for us to know witch ship/tank were we assigned to.

Just some 10 minutes before 1.00am, around some 20 or so fire-fighters were gathered at the central, when the chief on duty came to let us know our assignments and give us our night snacks witch usually included a regular cheese and ham roll, a bottle of some dodgy juice and a piece of fruit.

Can’t remember witch ship I was particularly assigned to (I think it was Setebello), but I do remember my position was deck fire-fighter. God I hated that position as it’s the most shit position on a ship. Basically it means I was to spend all night on a huge tanker’s deck, with no shelter from very low temperatures, waiting for some fucking fire to happen. As if it was possible to start a fire with sub zero temperatures. (Actually it is possible, but never mind).

As I approach the vessel, I noticed that no particular big repairs were going on. Climbed the stairs up, and sat under the superstructure’s wing, along with some fellow welders and cutters, just to have my snack and, as usual, chat with them about the works that were supposed to happen on board that night. How interesting: their work for that night was nothing more than welding a small stern beam. An hour’s job.

3:00am: the break is now long gone, it’s fucking freezing, all works are finished, and I’m still wandering back and forth, stern to bow, just to keep my self warm. I’m getting very tired and very sleepy now. Thoughts like “what the fuck am I doing here” are getting more common by the minute.

Suddenly I give in.

I’m not staying on this stupid deck another minute. I need to rest. But where? I’m facing the full blow of Atlantic’s blizzard winds, on a completely unprotected super tanker deck. Not even the several layers of clothes are preventing the cold to chill my bones. Never mind the superstructure as it’s not much better than the deck itself. Same goes for the bow’s castle (this is where the ship’s anchors are kept, and at least there are ropes there, witch often makes a good bed). Wait a minute. There’s got to be a dry chemical room. Dry chemical rooms are basically cabins where large carbon dioxide containers are kept, and the best thing is these rooms are warmed to prevent the fire extinguish materials to crumble due to moisture. I managed to find the damned room, and with some card board I made a very comfy bed (ok, forget about luxury beds, we’re talking about an old ship that is being repaired on an older ship yard).

6.00am: barely managed to have a 3 hours rest, let alone sleep. I go outside, have a stretch and ear someone yelling for my name, coming from the bow. What the hell? I realize that I’m not seeing things properly. I’ve just lost my contact lenses!!! (for those of you who now what I’m talking about, you know how easy it is to loose contact lenses when your eyes become too dry during sleep). Oh, and how about that? The guy yelling my name is just the chief on duty.

Fuck. Fuck Fuck. Fuck!

What else is gonna happen?

- “WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU? AND WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING FOR???” shouts the beast while I search for the fucking lenses on the floor, mumbling all the swearing words in the book.

- "I was on the engine room!" Of course I lied! Pretty useless to say I couldn’t tell him I was sleeping!

- “I’m looking for you since 5 o’clock to let you know the works are over!” Oh for fuck sake. Wouldn’t I know that, you twat? Those were my thoughts, of course.

I left my shift at 8:00am. He never mentioned the incident. Neither did I. From that day on, I never slept on work again. On a dry chemical room that is.