Category: Antarctica

NSF paid the bills
set the budget
and made the rules.
For food service no portion control
$4.26 per person per day rations cost
Overs and unders
for every steak and lobster dinner
three of chilli macaroni
chicken fricassee
or beef cubes.

Solution.
five 6-day cycles
Sunday fixed menu.
Continental breakfast.
Brunch.
Steak and lobster.

Patrons learned which meals to be early
and those to be avoided.
Shrimp
taken by the shovelful
never enough
we learn to hide on shrimp day.

Ray, mess watch captain
220 lbs
nudging 6 feet
squat and black.

One supper
Shrimp has been depleted with 30 minutes left
from the serving line like a lion bellowing conjugal rights
“ hey man where’s the shrimp at ”
before I can offer excuse or apology
Ray brick outhouses forward
“where’s the shrimp at.. where’s the shrimp at..
all them other godammnedgreedyassedmofuckers ate it.
that’s where it’s at.”
Got that.

For the back story click Backstage

Butter up before the sauce was the advice
they did
chowing down big time at Saturday supper
before serious drinking.

Sunday morning
in the men’s
cat stench urinals
and locker room warscape
of championship win – or heavy defeat.

Breakfast 7 a.m.- 8 a.m.
shot gun discharge safe.
Brunch 10:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m.
returnees from the front
red eyed
hungover
and hungry.
Ham, eggs, omelettes, pancakes,
French toast, grilled sausage
buttering up, after the sauce.

And for Sunday brunch
cinnamon rolls
3000
soft, yeasty, warm, and sweet.
Removed from the oven at 10:15 a.m.
delivered to the serving line at 10.30.
A highlight. And essential.

The chief is angry – incandescent
he wants to know what happened
and somebody’s ass.
“ I’m sorry Chief ”
the baker points at the unset timer
and 3000 charcoaled shells
“ I just fucked up.”
Fury deflates to empathy
“ get something from the freezer…”

For the back story click Backstage

We lived in tents
those first summers.
Quonset Hut shaped
double skinned canvas
comfortable and warm
but no privacy or secrets.

Antarctica is a desert
snow swaps places with sand
cold for heat
dry – extremely. And windy
fire : a match, a butt, a spark – the lurking enemy.

The Fire Department was omniscient
and ubiquitous
nothing permitted which enhanced flammability.
At the beginning of each year
petitions for partitions
the people versus The Fire Department.
Every year, not back down
but wink – the Nelsonian eye.

But this year “no,” was NO
screens went up
fire officers ordered them down
nonnegotiable. Suck it up.

But they reckoned without our boss
a man to whom life was a chess game
peristaltically strategising and infinitely patient.
He factorised the quadratic
the authorities challenged
or disgruntled workers
Solution. Laws circumvented better than productivity lost.
He confers with one of the women

At the next room inspection
she arrives from the shower
towel almost slipping
caught desperately
    “We have no privacy, no one is supposed to be here now
      I thought it was safe at this time
      last night a couple were making love.  I could see their movements.”
then burst into tears. Spectacularly

Everybody is aghast
I don’t know what to do said The Captain
let us have partitions wails the towelled dripping one.
We are allowed screens. Immediately.

For the back story click Backstage