Prarie Paul Goes To Sea


Back in the days when the oilfield was young a Polish-Canadian whose name might have been Paul was looking out the window at the trailer-park where he lived. His happy day-dreams ended with the high-speed arrival of his neighbour’s car. His neighbour got out of the car and ran to his trailer and disappeared inside. Then the RCMP arrived with the disco-lights on. Two big cops jumped from their car and ran to the trailer and disappeared inside.
Paul was wondering what was going on across the way. As he opened his door the cops and the neighbour came out again, fightin and hollerin just like in the movies. Now Paul had old-fashioned Polish ideas about being a good neighbour; or maybe he just didn’t like the Arse.
The neighbour had been standing up for his democratic-rights but the bad-guys were winning; until Paul arrived. After the action-scene the cops drove off with second-prize. Paul got to speak to his neighbour for the first time and the neighbour was real pleased to meet him. The two of them got along real fine, they were both oilfield-technicians by profession. The Arse didn’t have any legal right to be beating-up on law-abiding Canucks and breaking into their homes. There was nothing to worry about as far as the law had any authority. As the neighbour explained, the cops had been after him for some time and they weren’t too worried about the law.
The neighbour had heard a story about rigs that floated in kinda-like a big lake they had in the east. So he took off to Nova Scotia where offshore-drilling for oil had just begun. His experience of Alberta-oilfield-work was just what was wanted and he got a good job. This was slightly spoiled on the beach where the RCMP were still cruising about looking for trouble.
The neighbour moved on after a bit to another big lake in Scotland. The oilfield was real busy at that time and the neighbour had not forgotten Prarie Paul. That is how a genuine Alberta-Polack came to be a Driller on the wild seas off Scotland’s coast.
Prarie Paul’s contribution to the Scottish-Oilfield created a legacy of many stories; all of them unbelievable but true. If somebody buys me a drink I might just remember one.

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