How many people want to live in Louisana?

[SASless]

Why do helicopter pilots drive hundreds of miles to work in the Gulf of Mexico?

That lifestyle and the close social interaction with Boudreau and Thibodeau must really be an attractive situation.

In Australia the helicopter companies provide airfare to their pilots in order to attract them to the worksites I hear....must be oil is located in some very unattactive places down under.

American pilots must really enjoy places like Venice, Cameron, Fourchon Grand Isle, Galliano, Patterson, Creole, and Sabine Pass. The lure of Cajun cooking, fiddle music, and mudbugs sure must present a temptation. How can places in Oz compare to these scenic locales.

Offshore living on production platforms manned by three oil hands must be splendid living. I guess that means there is one guy doing the oil work and one cook and one bull cook to take care of the pilot and oil guy. That is pretty cozy living.

Private quarters, satellite television with hundreds of channels, unlimited telephone privileges....Chateaubriand for two for one at night served on linen table clothes by candle light. Fine Californian wines with dinner....a good Port afterwards.

Now with the coming pay rise at Air Log....the GOMER's will be on easy street.

If the secret gets out.....those jobs will be hard to get.

Can any of the GOMERS here point me to one of the better locations.....someone mentioned five miles up Three Mile Bayou as being a good place to start.

They did say it could get sorta lonely at the end of Bayou Self so I know about that.

[Gomer Pylot]

Sasless, shut up! Don't let the secret out. We've been keeping the good life to ourselves all these years, and here you go telling the world about it. The Cote d'Azur has nothing on Holly Beach. If the Yankees find out about all this, we'll be flooded with them coming down here to take our jobs and our hound dogs. The women are wonderful, too. Some of them still have 4 or 5 teeth by the time they get to be 16. So just keep your mouth shut about this paradise. :}

[rotorboy]

SASLESS you for got beautiful Lake Charles, Moragn ****ty (oh I mean city) and the wonderful offshore paridse of ship shoal's....



hey didnt I hear a rumor that you had your ford and 5th wheel parked at the KOA just out side of Baton Rouge? Hows the crawfish?


rb
:ok:

[Capn Notarious]

GOMERS
Get Out My Emergency Room Stat

[The Rotordog]

The question is not "How many people would want to live in Louisiana?" It should really be: "WHY would anybody want to live in Louisiana?" To which I reply: Don't aks me.

To be sure, there is plenty of culture and heritage in Louisiana. However, none of it exists in places like Intracostal City, Fourchon or Venice where the oil company terminals are located along with the weekly transients they attract. These are dreadful places, barely inhabitable by humans who nervously watch the approach of every hurricane, wondering if it's going to be this one that wipes everything clean and sends mobile home manufacturers elsewhere into fits of orgiastic ecstacy.

No, ICY, FOU and VEN are holes. The Cajuns do love to party though, but you have to go to Lafayette to have any fun. And even if you're based in ICY, you won't be travelling up the road to LFT much, especially in the summer when you don't get done with your paperwork/engine rinse until 1930 and you still have to call mama, and your customer has already tol' you that they need to be airborne right at sunrise...

If you're based out in the swamps, you'd have to get to know some locals and get invited to their "house" (a vague, nebulous term which does not always mean a framed, wooden structure) for a crawfish boil during the season. But be warned: if the cooking is done by a true Cajun, the crawfish/corn/potatoes combination will set your mouth on fire, requiring copious quantities of BEER to put out. And it'll have to be real beer, bud, not that Miller "Lite" crap. I don't know about anyone else, but crawfish just doesn't go with Diet Barq's root beer.

Then again, you could luck out and get based in Houma (if there is a God in heaven, that is). Not a bad party town, that. Many, many a night, I stumbled back to the quarters, drunker than a teenager on prom night, chiding myself for hanging out with those younger pilots and trying to convince myself that four hours of sleep would be fine for an old guy like me. Oh, those were the days! May they never return.

The proudest, happiest day in my life was the one that I drove out of that godforsaken state for the last time, knowing I'd never have to make that damn drive ever again. In my rearview mirror, I saw the sign that said "!anaisiuoL oT emocleW" and I laughed all the way through Mississippi.