posted on Mar, 18 2006 @ 08:00 PM
So I’m just getting off of an eighteen-hour shift at the factory and I still have this song in my head… It’s driving me crazy, going over and
over in my mind… I can’t make it stop. Ever have that happen to you? I hate it when that happens.
Let me tell you what went down. Maybe if I dump this off onto all of you I’ll finally get a little peace and quiet.
We’ve been packing out king crab lately. My gig is to run the strapper. There are two reasons for this. The first is that, like pretty much every
other hunk of junk in this place, the strapper is about fifty years old. It’s held together with baling wire and prayers, and for some silly reason
it seems to Really like me *sighs*
Being chained to the strapper all day would Not be my first choice of job assignments. Let me break trays, let me stack boxes, ANYTHING but the
strapper. But no, if anybody else tries to run that machine it immediately gums up and we’re down for about an hour while the shop guys try to
hammer the thing back together again.
The other reason why I’m the lucky guy is that I Never take my foot off of the activation pedal. The strapper is The slowest unit in the pack out
process. Everybody and everything else can operate faster than it can. So, keeping that machine humming along at top speed is obviously where it’s
Running the thing is pretty easy. I don’t know why so many people have so much trouble with it. You just stand there, foot on the pedal, feed the
thing boxes, and if the idiot feeding you boxes misses a beat then you gotta shove your arm into the strapper so it doesn’t eat itself up
Like everything in this funky old fish factory, the strapper makes a sound. And because I never take my foot off of the pedal, it makes a very
rhythmic, hypnotizing, mesmerizing sound. Something like this:
Over and over and over again.
Fifteen times a minute, nine hundred times an hour, hour after hour…
I’m in a zone. I am completely and totally disembodied, miles away from all things fishy, all things annoying, just;
Over and over and over again…
Then it happened. A song came on the radio that was in Perfect Harmony with the sadistic state of bliss I was in. It was an oldie. I don’t know
who does it or what it is called… Choo Choo Ch’ Boogie? Something like that. The only lyric I could pick up on while in my strapped out haze was
“take me right back to the track, Jack!”
The song was over, the radio moved on, the packing room was back to that normal crabby cacophony, but it was too late. The seed had been planted.
And it was festering.
There was a lyricless rhythm pounding in the void of my brain with each cycle of the strapper. Growing, demanding, gnawing at me. It was now beyond
my control. Every time a fellow co-worker would stray into my limited field of view the void would snatch them up and incorporate them into the
This new ditty has been consuming me all day. It’s stupid, it’s dumb, and it’s driving me crazy. I’m hoping that if I write it down then
maybe my brain will deflate and I’ll finally be able to go to sleep…
Jamilla's mighty fine
She's from the Middle East.
Marcel and Susan both
Are from the Philippines.
Kwan is from Korea
So's his mother Shin.
Chapo's a little lover
With a fuzzy chin.
Dan is the man
With the funky plans.
Trina tags behind him
With some tools in hand.
Scott's our fearless leader
He's got messed up glands.
Alan he's the tall guy
Standing in a van.
These are just a few
Of our family.
Cross between a clan
And a menagerie.
Livin' on an island
Surrounded by the sea.
Only bummer is
The lack of privacy.
Shoo shoo ya bore me.
Woo hoo adore me.
Boo hoo ignore me.
Headin' out back to the ice
For Gods Sake, Make It Stop!
(authors note: the song in question was “Choo Choo Ch’ Boogie” by Louis Jordan)