The Offshore Triumphs of Karla Jean

Dooley was still noticeably angry. Karla had no idea what their altitude was, but it was high enough to get them there and for her to enjoy the amazing view. The Gulf of Mexico glistened with beauty. Karla saw schools of sharks just offshore and groups of dolphins jumping in the morning sun. Dooley flew somewhat erratically here and there, causing the helo to bounce a bit, probably hoping she’d feel sick. But she had full confidence in her iron-clad stomach. She figured they were about half way to the rig when Dooley finally began to speak. It was difficult to hear him over the engine noise.

“So, Butch, you think you can really make it working offshore? Bruce told me you’ve put in some time at sea on steamships. But Sweet Pea, offshore drilling rigs ain’t nothing like the baby boats you’ve been playing around on. Drilling an oil well is serious business. It’s dangerous, filthy, greasy, manly work, especially offshore, and there’s not a woman alive who is fit for the lifestyle. So, I am going to ask you this just one time. Are you ready for me to turn this baby around and take you ashore?”

Karla just shook her head. “Well, hell no.” This guy was starting get annoying. “And by the way, I believe I prefer Butch to Sweet Pea.”

“Excuse me? I mean what I am saying, Sassy Ass! Females don’t belong on oil rigs and I ain’t going to be delivering any. You hear what I am saying?”

“Just take me to the rig, dude. Spare the drama.”

Dooley just appeared angrier.

“You silly bitch! Do you understand that you are flying over the Gulf of Mexico in a rust bucket of a helicopter, with a semi-stable man who has flown three tours in Vietnam? Do you know that on any given day I consider running this aircraft at full speed into the BCD office building, my mother-in-law’s house or the fucking Gulf itself? Are you hearing me? I have my limits! I am not taking your feminine ass to an offshore oil rig. Period! We’ll go see Jesus first!”

Before Karla could even react, Dooley did start acting a bit crazy. He pulled back the joystick and increased the engines, and they began to lift higher into the sky.

“What the hell?” proclaimed Karla, who was now becoming more alarmed than annoyed.

They continued ascending. Up, up and higher.

“You ready to go see Jesus, Butch? You want to go today? Yeah, maybe today would be a good day to go meet Jesus.”

Just when Karla thought their helicopter couldn’t possibly rise any higher, Dooley did the unthinkable. He took one finger, and with one flick turned the engines completely off. As in OFF.

Silence.

Pure, terrifying silence.

The next moments were surreal. The previously loud turbine noise was replaced by the eerie swish, swish, swish of the rotor blades. Karla’s breath was somewhere between her throat and her pelvis. They began their descent, ever so slowly. Dooley leaned back in his seat and feigned relaxed. Then he closed his eyes and babbled these insane words.

“Yeah, Jesus. You ready for a couple more? Will you let me in? Oh, Lord, how I remember that little Viet Cong face, just before I started shooting, seeing her momma scream…”

And down they continued to descend.

What kind of crazy crap was this guy blathering? Was he for real? Now at the tender age of twenty, Karla Waddell Slidell was far from a wimp when it came to danger. She had faced it many times. At age six, she got left in a vacant house during a hurricane. As a teen, she and her friend Darlene got caught stealing the Sunday school offering to buy beer, and Karla’s dad Orvin threatened to beat both their heads in. He might have done it, too. And possibly the biggest danger she ever faced was when her drunk dad left her to drown in the shipping lane as the tide came up at Morgan’s Point, during a fishing trip gone sour. But this...the sheer insanity of Dooley’s actions was freaking her out.

Karla had been at the brink of death more times than she cared to remember. But there was just something in this which made her believe she wasn’t going to be checking out right now either. She continued to stare at this crazy pilot, wondering if he could possibly be serious. She weighed whether he really wanted to die, and since he survived three tours at war, she figured he probably really didn’t.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven,” began Karla, “hallowed, be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done...”

Dooley opened his eyes to find Karla with her hands in the steeple-prayer position, and evidently talking to God.

And still they descended.

Each blade sang its lonely whoop, whoop, whoop.

“On earth, as it is…”

“You’re just going to sit there and pray? You aren’t even going to scream or cry or beg or something?”

“...on earth, as it is in Heaven. Give us this day…”

“Oh, for the love of Christ,” said Dooley.

“Well, actually...” responded Karla.

And with that Dooley reached over and restarted the engines, pulled the helicopter up from its descent, and flew towards the drilling rig without saying another word.

Karla began breathing again and realized she was literally saturated with sweat. After this flight, she knew without a doubt that her heart could take anything life aboard an offshore oil rig could offer up.

One day Dooley Wade would know who he was up against in Karla Slidell. But it wasn’t going to be today.

And one day Karla would learn that having the crap scared out of her was just another day at the office in this new line of work, but that wasn’t going to be today either.