FUCK.
Seems like this is another bad year just like 2010. Lost one of my friends from the field yesterday. Bill was a core drill operator, and a damned good one. He was safe, and nobody got killed or injured around his rig.
He retired a few years ago at 65 after 35 years of service. He was a friend. Lung cancer took him.
Of all of the times we spent together, I'll never forget the Casa Gallardo in St. Louis and the legend of the Tasmanian Devil. We were working on a difficult stretch of I-55 south of the city, and temperatures were well into the 90s. Last night out - we had the traditional dinner as a team, and decided to try the Casa G. (probably because of the special they were running on $7.99 chimichanga plates).
Bill and I were at the same table (we had 8 men at two tables). The conversation about the day's events ( we call it 'drilling after hours') had begun to drop off, but then somebody brought up cartoons. We all had our favorite characters. Charles didn't know who the Tasmanian Devil was, and Bill got up from the table and hunched over and waved his arms around crazily.....
"You remember him now, Charlie, don't cha?"
"Nope, Bill....."
I got up and did the same as Bill, adding the crazy sound effects that a Tasmanian Devil used to in the Warner Brothers cartoons......and inadvertently FARTED.
Bill sat down, his body shaking from laugher....
"Charlie......"
"yep, Bill...I remember now.....that's the Tasmanian Devil for sure......."
We laughed all the way back to the motel that night. Of the four of us at that table, only two of us are left. Danny (a.k.a. "Tacklebox") and Bill (a.k.a. "Buster") have now passed away. It's just me and Charlie now.
FUCK! Bill, you will be missed.