 |
| thanks fotologic |
In the past the big boys in the world’s sandpit were content playing with each other, spending their days driving around in oversized trucks, occasionally crashing into each other and play fighting until an adult stepped in to break them up.
As the ignored little brother we soon learnt to slink off to the furthest corner of the sandpit and satisfy ourselves with building miniature mud pies, no mean feat given the high sand to dirt ratio in our patch, but I digress. Recently however the sunlight reflected off something shiny in our section of the pit and caught the eye of the big boys. Alert (but not alarmed) they became fascinated with our dirt and soon coveted it for themselves. As a result our lives have changed in a multitude of ways, this is just one of them……
 |
|
© The Ponder Room
|
This year I’ve spent a fair bit of time in airports, including the W.A. domestic airport.
Gone are the days of entering the terminal and seeing a sea of families desperately trying to tether their brood together around a bundle of battered, mismatched suitcases.
Nor is the cavernous space filled with mobile wielding businessmen brokering monumental deals, or desperately trying to give the impression that they are.
Now days you’d swear you’d been transported onto the backlot of the latest Baz Luhrmann film set. An ocean of extras set out before you, their Moulin Rouge sequins replaced by bright orange safety jackets. While no doubt warming the hearts of any long time single females, the sight is less palpitating for everyone else.
 |
| thanks to postbear |
For a start there’s the interesting dynamic when the two fly-in-fly-out (FIFO) subcultures collide. The first group on their way out to work sit silently, headphones on, looking incredibly bored while waiting for their flight. The second, those arriving home after weeks on a dry camp, focus on one thing….destination pub. And then there’s a third group, the long line of guys ahead of you in the security queue.
Since 911 the need for everyone to go through the security scan is understandable. What airport management hadn’t bargained on though was the preponderance of FIFO workers having to walk under the metal arch. One by one each man moves off to the sitting area and letting out a heavy sigh begins untying the long laces on his steel capped boots.
As I inevitably end up being asked to remove my shoes, the sight around me still makes me giggle as I too sit down and ponder on..….
-
The array of socks. Loads of safe black, grey or brown socks. Several thick red pairs harking back to the owners skinhead roots perhaps. Some novelty Mr Men socks no doubt a father’s day gift. A few mismatched, barely holding together socks, causing me to move away slightly. And every now and then I’m rewarded with a pair of fluro pink socks or a pattern of male genitalia, which instantly have me turning my head to see the owners face. Sometimes this results in a sheepish smile, other times a glare from a stern set of eyes while a tattooed covered hand rubs the owners chin.
-
I guess I should be thankful that the security scan doesn’t extend to the removal of all those navy blue hard yaka shorts.
-
Why is it that all these FIFO workers arrive at the airport in uniform ready to go? The only thing missing is an equipment belt hanging off their hips. What happens on these flights up north? Are the planes fitted out with workbenches instead of seats? Once through the door are they strapped in and immediately put to work forging the latest pink diamond seeking widget?
-
Or does the competition for highly paid mining jobs mean that, once landed, the doors open and the workers sprint, Amazing Race style, to secure the best job?
-
On a side note, any single ladies out there experiencing a draught, forget about bars, nightclubs and singles groups, get yourself to the Perth Domestic Airport, you’re sure to find something to appreciate at the FIFO smorgasbord.
3 Comments
Lovely! You remind me of the days when I had a FIFO boyfriend. I was very dedicated and often picked him up. Thankfully pre 9/11 so I didn’t have to wait for the whole shoe thing.
And you’re right, gaggles of single girls should get out there, now!
Haha, love the Mr Men socks. A dad’s lot is a hard one sometimes.
Ah Amanda I remember doing flight pick ups too a while back. Dedication is the right word.
Yes indeed Chris 🙂