(Giggle) You’d think that Ph.D. candidates in science would understand stuff like raw chicken and bacteria, but no such luck. A field crew with which we shared housing got sick and had to go to the E-room, after eating undercooked chicken that had been left on the counter after the meal (they were all drunk) unnoticed 'til the next day after work, when they wolfed it down. I had to drive them. Ever driven fifty miles on a two-lane road, through National Park traffic, with five guys barfing their guts out and pooping?
I’ll never forget.
I set things up so that one of the guys would be my kitchen help each night. I’d teach him to cook a single dish. Some of the wives were grateful, but the rest were jealous. Whatever their husbands said on returning home made me seem like a threat.
Along with the photos of me in my river shorts.