Creepypastas

All of Our Mistakes Are Never Forgotten

Day 1

As much as I despise having to type this, I've since come to terms with my wife's suggestion. When I first told her of my assignment in the Arctic, she refused to let me leave. With time, she came to accept it, under one condition of course. She wanted me to keep this log while I'm out there. If I'm going to be stuck with a bunch of guys in an outpost for one month for what she calls 'a total sausage fest', she wants me to have something I can share my feelings with. She's convinced that none of my fellow employees will be open for any personal discussion, and that bottling up my feelings will cause me to have a mental breakdown. I can be alone for weeks and not be bothered one bit, but there's no convincing her of that. Any effort I put forth at this point would be fruitless.

I apologize for the long explanation, but that's just how I am. If I end up going off on some tangent, hope that I catch myself before writing pages of irrelevant information. Wait a minute, why am I writing like this, like someone is going to read this? I hope no one ever reads this load of trash. I'm just keeping my promise to my wife so she can stay happy. If anyone ever does read this, I hope they enjoy the ramblings of a bland man.

As I was saying, I'm writing this journal while I'm on my arctic assignment. Actually, let's call it an expedition. That makes it sound a little more exciting. This 'expedition' was put together by the company that I work for called Hornbeck Offshore. We specialize in machines called ROVs, which stands for Remotely Operated Vehicle. They're mainly used in the oil field for servicing rigs, vessels, whatever the client pays us for. However, we were recently rented out by a division of the federal government for some observation under the arctic ice. I can't remember which agency it is, since I had fallen asleep during the meeting. All I know is that I need to go with the team because I'm one of the most experienced machinists. Apparently, I'm going to have my own shop adjacent to the main building. I have no clue how much that costs them build, but the government is going to pay for everything, so I don't really care.

Oh, there's a knock at my door. I guess we're finally ready to catch our shuttle to the airport. It's going to be a roughly nineteen-hour flight, so I'm going to bring a bottle of NyQuil. I can hardly stand some of these people in the office. I can only imagine what a pleasure they'll be in the confined cabin of an airplane.

I'm taking one last look over the shop from my office window. Everyone's left already, and I've just been killing time at my computer. I better turn off all the lights so my boss doesn't fire me for running up the electric bill.

I'll try to update this every few days, but no promises. Apparently one of our employees has an external hard drive full of movies, so this excursion may not be as miserable as I originally anticipated.

Day 2

As I had been hoping, I slept through almost the entire flight yesterday. As soon as the plane took off, I took my NyQuil and waited for it to put me out. Before I fell asleep, I had someone sit in the vacant seat next to me. I was so tempted to ask him to move but decided to keep my mouth shut. If I managed to piss this guy off, I would still be stuck in the same building as him for the next month. That wouldn't end well.

I remember him shaking my hand and introducing himself, but I can't remember what he said his name was. By that time, I was half asleep and not really paying much attention. He remained silent after that but didn't change seats. I feel asleep with my head against the window and pressure building in my ears.

When I finally woke up, I let out long yawn and popped the pressure that built up in my head. I had forgotten to take the decongestant my wife bought me, but it wasn't that bad compared to what had occurred on the flight while I slept. Apparently, one of the computer technicians had too much to drink and ended up vomiting all over the bathroom. It got cleaned up, but still took both flight attendants to do so. As I left my seat to use the bathroom, I passed the drunk man. He had been placed in his seat and had the seatbelt pulled tight. I guess either the flight attendants or some of my coworkers had restrained him. No matter who did it, I was thankful. I also prayed that he wouldn't continue with this behavior when we got to the base camp.