I Think it May Have Turned Into a Date

For the record, I thought I was doing a pretty good job of wearing long shirts and avoiding excessive attention to my bum. Turns out I failed utterly and completely. I’ve been told by multiple persons of the extent that the entire rig staff watches. Now I’m trying to burry my head back into my dark hole of obliviousness. I’m failing at that, too. Miserably.

Today’s Exploit:

Yesterday Mr. Chatty-driller came into my box 3 or 4 times to talk my ears off and to steal internet bandwidth. He barely took a breath the entire time he was chattering so much, yet he said absolutely nothing.

I’m still trying to figure out if there was a message behind the babble. It may take a while. My brain started picketing when my ears died.

Josh: So, I’m going to ask the guys if they want to go to dinner in town, do you want to go?

Me: Sure.

Josh: Really? I’ll go ask the guys and see what they say. I like to get away from the rig. I can’t stand staying here all the time, and…(the pointlessness continues).

Later

Josh: I asked the guys if they wanted to go, and they all said sure. But then I said I’d asked the girl to go with us and they all backed out really quick.

Me: Oh.

Josh: Yeah, none of them speak good English, and so they’re embarrassed and you’d be sitting there not understanding. They like to crack jokes, so they’d be joking with you. Oh, but do you still want to go?

Me: Why not?

Josh: Really? Wow, I’m really glad you trust me enough to go with just me. I didn’t think you’d want to still…(Insert some gibberish and you’ll have the rest of the conversation.)

We went to Chili’s. I decided we should sit at the bar because a table was a bit too personal. And I was afraid I’d learn something I didn’t want to know from the ceaseless waterfall of over-sharing. Turns out he didn’t care who heard, he was bound and determined to tell me all sorts of unwanted information.

These didn't help.  Don't be fooled by the cutsey photo, they took two hands to hold. 
And those bartenders were exceedingly generous with the tequilla.

Every so often he’d ask a question and I’d try to formulate a diplomatic response. But I was never quick enough and he’d be off and running again. Occasionally he’d remember that he’d asked a question and complain that I hadn’t answered, but still wouldn’t give me time to reply.

He also spent the entire evening leaning toward me. To which I responded by leaning into my other neighbor, who was too drunk to notice and therefore much less frightening.