To you people,
As inconsiderate as it may seem, I am going to shamelessly crowd your inbox with another probably automatically deleted email about cool things you aren’t doing. I’m not kidding. Sorry I’m not sorry.
This message will be composed of three sexy sections – First, I’m going to describe in more detail what I was doing/have done here. Then I’ll make my usual sweeping (often incorrect, but never in doubt) generalizations about this place. Finally the true meat and potatoes of vintage Rusty writing; baseless self-satisfying wisdom nuggetry. Let’s cut to the chase.
A product I designed is going offshore for its first dance soon, and we have to run the old tool it’s replacing in tandem. Turns out no one legally allowed in the USA knows how to work the old one (or the new one, since my team just built it). So, expressing the naivete of a freshman girl who thinks she was invited to senior prom for her personality, I raised my hand and volunteered to fly toScotland in January. I’d become the only American trained on this tool. Go, me. Then they gave me a training partner in case I get hurt/sick and can’t go out on the gulf. Even better. Every little detail imaginable went pear-shaped this week (They said it best...), but we did it.
This tool is goofy. Its subassemblies include, and I’m still not kidding;
1 – Anti Premature Closing Device, to make sure fluid transfer lasts the proper amount of time
2 – customizable Flow Regulator selection and installation, for whatever type of flow you’re anticipating
3 – Dual Priming Nipples, a final step to prepare the system for high temperature action
So, hey ladies, pay attention – I’m qualified to build, charge, prime, operate and redress a Proserv SPS-15 Sampler. Please try to stay calm, I’m not looking for anything serious right now. But take a number anyway. No pushing.
Aberdeen represents the Houstonification of an otherwise awesome Scottish city. The City Centre is as old and charming as the majority of Edinburgh, although it lacked that medieval certainty that there was a witch burning at a stake nearby. It is also a college town, with three international universities within stumbling distance of downtown. So, young people around. But no girls. The ratio here is reminiscent of most Lambda Chi parties my pledge class threw. Some dudes wear skirts just to break up the monotony. It’s depressing.
By Houstonification, I mean a generally bad thing. I didn’t like Houston, and have been on the record with my employer that I’d rather be transferred to Nigeria than back to the 713. Aberdeen has an overabundance of new (last 40 years) O&G money, along with the transplanted foreign citizens that come with it. It’s also on the verge of the social white-washing that occurs in oil and gas meccas, where all religions turn towards the bank to pray twice monthly. The traffic is miserable and shows poor planning. I realized my hotel was little more than a hostel, and in fact I stayed in nicer hostels in New Zealand. But finding another vacancy in the city proved impossible because, and I’m not kidding, the international curling championship was ongoing this week. I stayed late most days at the office to catch up on Dallas worky stuff and shamelessly G-chat with friends, and was unable to book a taxi home unless I’d booked it at lunch time. '
The un-Houstonified Aberdeen would be a much different town. Without the total hassles of transportation, I’d find the snow every day to be awesome. I did manage to let my inner child out a few times– I made snow angels in my coveralls and started a snowball fight with my trainer. Expected. Literature and Whisky take a backseat in this town to the concerns of apes like myself, and the city as a whole caters to this biggest buyer, which is corporate slavery in lieu of tourism. This sucks, in my mind, because the Scots have really figured out how to proficiently both cultivate and kill brain cells, and I hope they don’t lose that. Their obsession with literature is ubiquitous (Robert Burns day is a national holiday) and scotch is a culture all of its own. I’d hate to see the Houstonification continue.
Despite the soul-crushing traffic and weather conditions, I managed to properly explore on foot. Monday and Tuesday night were intrepid walkabout nights, wherein I stopped a bar fight, discovered a pub called Campus - “Scotlands First Frat House” – caught a cold, and discovered that Aberdeen is a city of deception. Several huge old churches turned out to be bars with funny names like Soul and Absolution, a building labeled “Garage” was actually a club, a neon’ed out building visible for blocks around was actually His Majesty’s Theatre, and an obvious run-of-the-mill oriental brothel was actually a Chinese restaurant. I’m still not kidding.
Wednesday was the hardest work day – our trainer had hernia surgery so the two of us were on our own, and I’ll pat my own back and say we kicked ass. I stumbled into my hotel around 630 devoid of the will to keep living, then realized I had to take advantage of this trip. Exhaustion isn’t an excuse. So I walked into the city center and did what I think anyone would’ve done: I pre-gamed on Glenfiddich and got a ticket to Soul Sista, The Ike and Tina Turner Story, at His Majesty’s Theatre. I’m not kidding. The moral of this musical, when looked at from Ike’s point of view, seemed to be: Date much younger, talented, starry-eyed women by being nice at first, then treat her like second-hand nothing, abuse and manipulate her, cheat on her repeatedly, and you get to see the world, be famous, and retire a millionaire. I’ve been going at this so wrong for so long…
And now the moment you’ve all waited for, the half-assed wisdom. And I know you’ve waited for it only because it immediately precedes the conclusion, but that’s ok too.
Before embarking on this trip, I watched Lost in Translation because Bill Murray is awesome. It’s a story about the real world business trip, except that he meets a cute redhead from Yale in Japan, so it’s clearly also science fiction. Travel isn’t always glamorous – it’s lonely. You’re multiple time zones away from people you care about, and no matter how much you try, they can’t understand what your new environment is like. Hotel gyms all suck, or are nonexistent. Single-serving friends aren’t really friends. Strangers aren’t friendly everywhere like they are in Texas. Haggis is delicious but local cuisine is a crapshoot. Hotels are soulless. I don’t mean to whinge about trips, but only to say that I understand how this lifestyle can wear a person down, and that I felt that way on this trip a few times. Go see the movie (for free on Netflix), and you might totally get it. I guess it’s technically a rom com, so girls dive on in. And hey Dad – growing up I always thought you must just totally love being out of town for work all the time. I get it now. That life's rough. Thanks for doing that for us.
TS Eliot wrote that
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to Arrive where we started
And know it for the first time
This little stanza stuck with me on this trip, because it’s clear that while some people travel to change the world, no matter who you are the world will in fact change you. Returning from backpacking Australia fundamentally changed the way I look at my life, and every time since that I’ve gone abroad and returned good ole’ US and A seems to have changed while I was gone. It really hasn’t, but I have. This is still the case for my Scotland adventure. Perspective is the lens through which you see the world, the codex which breaks down what you feel and experience. Travel upgrades the lens. I’m grateful for the job I have which lets me do this on someone else’s dime. Kinda wish I could’ve been an English major too though.
But unfortunately the change hasn’t been the sort of change to make me stop typing long-winded travel essays that no one reads anyway. To the three of you who’ve read this entire thing, I hope you’ve enjoyed it. I’m eager to return to Dallas. I haven’t seen sunlight or worked out in 7 days.
Southbound 35, hey Texas feel my soul.
Your friendly inbox polluter,
Short Haake
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