Today was the day Google finally approved ads to be on my page. I was worried I wouldn’t get approved because it kept getting rejected. I figured out it was my privacy policy. Well that makes sense. Once I had altered and added information about cookies and cookie monsters then I was ready for action. So if you are reading this please click an ad and I’ll get paid.
My day started off slow with a geologist heading to San Francisco and Colorado. His bag was a wardrobe on wheels. I couldn’t believe the size of this thing. I managed to fit in my boot aka trunk. He was heading away for 2 weeks. Still that’s a massive bag. He told me about being a geologist and that the company he quit working for was only paying him $17 an hour without his masters. I said sounds like archaeology in this country. I was lucky I was getting paid over that, but I had my masters. I should have been paid double that. You get what you pay for. If you want to pay someone a pittance then you’re going to get crappy work. Unfortunately that’s not how it works. I told him something needs to change for academic career paths. You accumulate a debt and for what. I said Australia pays geologists and archaeologists well. I asked him if he was good at raw materials or minerals? No was the response. Well that sucks. That’s super useful. Read up on it and pursue a career down there.
My next customers were a couple of Canadians wanting to go to the servo for smokes before they got on a plane. One bloke worked as an environmental investigator that monitors air pollution. The other was a commercial financial advisor. Basically advising people with money where to spend their millions if they want a good return on their investment. Sounds pretty cool. Mate see that palace by the water, but it. It’ll make you more money if you sell it. Oh clear out the mold and termites and you’ll make a killing. Oh yeah speaking of killing, clear out those bodies in the basement too, not a good way to sell the place.
Speaking of killing. A few years ago, I worked in a place called Ramona, California. I was archaeology monitoring for a power pole replacement. I showed up after training in the morning. The workers appeared uneasy and weirded out. It was raining slightly, which was unusual for California. Maybe that’s why? I remember coming here once before and got the strangest deja vu. I mentioned it to the workers and they said “oh, it’s probably the murder house” “what?” I asked. Where the power pole was situated was on a hill on the side of the road. The road lead up to a single house boarded up and dilapidated. An old car sat out the front of the home, like it hadn’t been driven in a while. What’s the story? I walked back down and had a weird feeling walking down the hill. One of the workers went onto explain what happened a few years ago. Apparently an insane husband murdered his wife and kids, then went on kill himself. The story goes that the victims tried to get away from the husband, but couldn’t. Chilling. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck and a feeling of not wanting to be there hit me. Oh boy. Later that night I tried to find information about the story online, but failed to find any trace. The house wasn’t for sale or anything. Even if it was any information about the murders wouldn’t be available for the public. It apparently hurts the resale value of the home. Wow, that’s capitalism for ya. I know if I was buying a home I’d want to know about this.
A paramedic education specialist followed my Canadian drop off. We discussed the new first aid techniques used. Including CPR. 100 compressions no breathing into the person’s mouth, it halts the rhythmic nature of the heart. We talked about defibrillators and how they only help if the heart is irregular or weak. If the heart stops, then the person is dead. No coming back from that. Sad, but a harsh reality. All the TV shows and movies you see where a defibrillator is used, if the patient flat lines. There’s no use. Nothing will bring the patient back. I asked him about snake bites in Washington and he said you don’t need to worry unless you are out in eastern Washington. I said to him snakes don’t bother me. I’ve been within metres of brown snakes, inland taipans, and death adders. I do remember a good friend of mine being bitten by one a year before he died. He was climbing a mesa plateau and put his hand on the bloody thing and it bit him. Anti venom saved his life, but alcohol poisoning killed him a year later. It was an awful tragedy and I always think I could have said no to a beer with him, after he had been dry for that whole year. He was one of the best archaeologists I knew. A stolen generation indigenous man that had his demons. He loved his cricket and he liked my methods in CRM archaeology. I did blame myself up until his funeral in 2014, until a gentleman popped up who I had met in Canberra. This man had survived cyclone Tracy in the 70s and had severe PTSD when water would hit him. He was there the night our mate decided to drink again. The man told me to not blame myself, because his demons were far more superior than anyone could imagine. The cyclone Tracy survivor told me our mate was going to take me under his wing and make me a better archaeologist. I balled my eyes out from this comment. I later encountered another man that wrote one of my textbooks from university. He certainly made a sad day more enjoyable. His larrikan sense of humour and no BS attitude struck a chord with me. Because of him I eventually got to connect with an immigration lawyer in the United States, who has helped me on the path to my green card. It’s almost like the snake bite to my mate lead to the pathway to the USA. Does everything happen for a reason? The paramedic in my car said the best way to treat a snake bite is to get the antivenom into the patient ASAP. Don’t wait to bandage the wound or waste time. Just get to the nearest hospital and the sooner the antivenom is injected the better.
Finally I had Jared an airport worker. He was meeting a lady in Bellingham. He commented on the inconsiderate drivers in Whatcom County. I said I have seen far worse in California. Here people are in their own driving world. Not a care in the world. I like to think I’m a considerate driver. I only get peed off if someone cuts out in front of me without warning. After dropping him off. I was thanked and tipped.
Next up. The puke.
