Sitka or Bust: Commute The World

Today would come to be known as Lucky 13, the day I learned I was flying out of King Salmon airport on the next wave of cleared workers. I only worked about four hours total today, mainly cleaning the processing room until the metal gleamed and the cogs inside the machinery ran free of salmon slime. We scrubbed under the conveyor belts and the netting of the metal slide belts, the drip trays and the walls. I’m sure someone cleaned the bathroom across the way as I’d been tasked with that at one point previously.

We were told to look busy; whether or not we could still find dirty patches we still scrubbed away at the metal until the Brillo pads and sponges disintegrated under our fingertips. I personally cleaned beneath the conveyor belts, the handrails, the inner blades and mechanisms of the heavy machinery until I wished we were back to pulling bones. The novelty had worn off and everyone was lagging, bored and wanting the sleep freedom afforded. I watched as workers drifted off the lines, sneaking to secluded corners of the plant for a nap before clocking out or blatantly clocking out before our due.

I manned the hose after it’d been deemed time to wrap up the cleaning and clock out. Utah was below the risers, her hard hat bobbing and weaving around the metal beams and supports. I tried to avoid spraying her directly in the face, but the metal just ricocheted the water and the rivets made it spread in its attack at all who stayed oblivious. I waved her across the spray a few times, changing its course at the last few moments to send pink slime sliding in globs over the edges of the walkways and out from the grates.  I know I still managed a few direct hits though, and for that I could only wave my hand and shrug apologetically. I’d definitely gotten doused a few times myself and once its in your hood you know the true sense of cold.

When even my hosing was becoming erratic we were sent to clock out indefinitely, a process that was both annoying and exciting. I followed the crowd to lunch and found another blue sign posted with departing groups of people. My name was on it and I walked away smiling. Civilization was so near. I missed not smelling of salmon, not having such a rigid schedule, and not crying when I put my boots on. But I would miss it all soon enough I suppose.

No one on C shift went back to work that night. There was just nothing to do. And when it came time for me to go to sleep in preparation for my last day of work I slid my feet over the railing in my loft and let them dangle, sliding into an awkward A-frame version of the fetal position. I was just drifting off when there was a knock on the door and one of my roommates answered it. “We need Tori’s card.”

I blearily recognized my name and shifted so I was sitting on the ladder overlooking the door. “What?”My two supervisors were at the foot of the ladder with a clipboard. “We need your card. You’ve finished working here.” One of them climbed partially up the ladder and held out his hand for my swipe card.

“I’m not done working yet. I have one more day.” I’m not sure why I was so belligerent, but I apparently really wanted those last few hours. Besides, that shift would be my chance to say goodbye to everyone. They just shook their heads and waited. “Plans have changed.”

I tried to disentangle the card necklace from around my throat, eventually ripping some hair stragglers out in the process. My room key was also on the necklace and I tried to pry the knot open, but my tweezer hand was acting up and I couldn’t. “Got a knife? I need to cut it off.” I dropped the necklace down into the waiting hands and waited for the last piece of my work experience to end abruptly with the cutting of a string. I felt like that mythology where the sisters control the length of a person’s life by cutting his life thread. My Naknek life thread was soiled and emanating a fishy odor, but it was tough and wiry enough to put up the semblance of a fight. In the end though, it cut and I officially no longer worked at the fish processing plant.  The Fates, that’s what they were called. The Fates had made their will known.

Today I had my first break. And then my second break. Now I’m not quite sure when I’m supposed to go back to work. They aren’t very helpful in that case, pretty much they just tell you to wake up at random intervals throughout the day, get dressed and head in to work as if you were starting a new shift. There’s a Electronic Display System that flashes slides showing shift schedules, but they are so behind in updating it that you pretty much rely on a network of individuals to find you and make you go in to work.  I think I’ll probably have to work at the normal time.

In my breaks I slept for around 15 hours. I dreamt of surprising my mum at work without letting her know I was coming back from Alaska. Just kinda walking in with all my gear, probably smelly and gross looking, but I knew that she would be the happiest person ever to see me no matter how much I need a shower.   I really want that to be the case, but looking at the flights they posted today, it seems they liked me enough to keep me around a bit longer. My feet might not make it to the end of the season. They constantly tingle on the top, itch at the heel, have excruciating pain on the baby toes, and are numb everywhere else. Just to be sure they don’t need to be amputated quite yet I wiggle them every time I wake up.

Today I woke up and went straight to wiggling them with my fingers, already singing to them in my head, “this little piggy went to market…” My thumbs aren’t working properly and all my hands tingle like they don’t have enough circulation, but hey, at least they haven‘t been swollen like they were in the beginning. I feel like instead of writing about work and new experiences of Naknek, Alaska, I’m just documenting a medical experiment gone wrong. Maybe I’ll come out of this with some sort of super powers, let‘s just hope they aren‘t lame… or fish related. Off to bed for another few hours. At this point, all I want to do is go see the festival of the colors in Utah.

They lied. We did another 16 today. Not only that, but there’s this mystery rash spreading like wildfire through the fishery. It started in packing on a bunch of girl’s asses and legs and now a few Fish Housers and even some Fillet workers have it. Two of my roommates have it and now I’m starting to wonder whether the red bumps on my legs are bug bites or the start of something more ominous. How many more health problems could arise here? I know of someone getting carpal tunnel here after only 17 days. Holy shit that’s fast. I can no longer feel the sides of either thumb, but hopefully I’ll leave with at least some feeling in my limbs, but who knows for sure. They started sending people home today. No warning besides a flier posted at noon to let you know you’re flying out in a few hours. Quite classy. I’m not even sure how they could get their flights booked out of Seattle. Do they sit in the airport there and hopefully have a laptop to find connecting flights? Gah, I’m really not looking forward to seeing that flier posted and having to make that call back home.

A supervisor told my roommate she needs to shower more. Or at least change her underwear. The hilarity ensues. I will definitely miss this constant upset of comic relief. Also, one of my best plant friends told me today that the only reason she talked to me that first week was because she thought I was Asian.  I’ve been told this my entire life, but when I confront people about it they can’t really tell me how they came to that conclusion. Apparently I give off a distinct Asian vibe, maybe that’s why I love the ethnic though bastardized versions of food. But hey, if a Filipino woman thinks I’m anything but a whitebread American kid from suburbia I take that as a complement.