Offshore Africa stories

“Aye, Sheila, I will be traveling to the beautiful holiday destination of Lagos, via the tranquil resort of London Heathrow Terminal 5, hoping to catch up on classical culture and literature and maybe do some Salmon fishing, on the way…”

She smiled, she knew the drill. Mask the shitty trip ahead, – “God knows, what’s waiting for you Offshore Africa?”. She had had relationships with offshore guys, most women at the airport had, these guys were hard to resist, and by god they were persistent, never taking “No” for an answer… also they were cheeky, upbeat and flirtatious guys, with money and time, when they returned through Aberdeen. Eventually she had given in… It was only then she learned the real truth of the offshore game, the price it came with. The stories would run free after maybe a few whiskies too many, with the tears and the rage…

Her new man was a supermarket manager, nice, safe, reliable and good with the kids, but she had had her moments, life had never been dull with those guys!

“Lagos, and business class? Hmm, someone is moving up in the world?”

“Aye, promotion and all that, so onwards and upwards!!!”

“Very witty, considering you are at an airport!”

He smiled, not even thinking of the joke, aye, Sheila, she was one of the good ones!

“See you next time!”, he left with just his hand luggage, there was no point in checking anything in.

There really was no point in traveling with anything more than a small bag in the places he had visited in the oil game, in Africa every possession was seen as fair game, to the police, the Navy, the security or whomever had you before them. Plus he would be in taxis, private cars, mopeds, yes, actual mopeds as official modes of transport, buses, minivans, small boats, domestic airplanes, helicopters, etc etc. Travel light was a mantra followed by anyone with previous experience, it saved a lot of trouble.

The flight to Heathrow was uneventful, apart from listening to the unavoidable conversations around him. He had a good book, crime in Edinburgh, usual stuff, good to read in small pieces as you travel. He had saved 2 good long reads for the trip… to be savoured, as an escape from his undoubtedly lousy reality offshore.

Iain M Banks, his favourite author, his futuristic Sci Fi of incredible vision and imagination took him away from the misery of the metal offshore prison, he literally was transported. But that was for later, a good irony filled book from Ian Rankin based in Edinburgh filled in the Aberdeen London flight nicely.

The stewardess offered him breakfast and it was the highlight of the flight, but it came with its slice of disappointment… he knew they would be stopping the breakfasts on the flights even though they were so popular, bacon and eggs with bacon, and a bit of bread… but delicious at 27 thousand feet, after an early start. He had been asked as a frequent traveler for his opinion, and as usual he gave it with both barrels.

“It’s Mr Thomson, isn’t it?”

“Aye, Clair, it is”

His memory wasn’t that good, but he could read a name tag…