Tron the Mess Boy

 

Funny how the season brings back memories: I left school at the end of grade 10 in 1960 and initially tried my hand as a car parts salesman at the local GM dealership in my home town of Kristiansand, Norway.

Looking for other opportunities, I learnt of the possibility of a job on a ship being constructed in Oslo at the time. My uncle Kjell, a seasoned sea captain, was to be given command of the 5000 ton ship to take it on its maiden voyage.

My buddy Bjoern, who had previous sailing experience, and I, mustered on and found ourselves on the way to the Port of Antwerp, Belgium around Christmas in 1960. Bjoern had been hired on as a “greaser” and I as an “engine boy” for the grand sum of 300 kroner per month ($60).

Another young fellow, Tron at 17 years old, had also been hired on in Oslo, as a “mess boy”. His duties were to clean the crew mess, kitchen, dishes etc.

Tron was a nice kid, good looking in an innocent kind of way and a bit slow on the uptick.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the crew to figure that out, and as young fellows will do, decided to pull his leg. They told Tron that his job would be much easier if he cleaned the dishes and floor with raw oil, rather than detergent.

Tron was delighted with the good advice and proceeded to implement the new cleaning strategy, with the predictable outcome of plugging up the kitchen drain, among many other things.

The First Mate, who was in charge of crew mess, reviewed the situation, identified the culprits, and made them clean up the “mess” from top to bottom, and then some. After that we got to feeling rather protective of Tron.

As it turned out, that was a good thing. During shore leave in Antwerp, a group of us headed for the bar district, as sailors will, chased by active hormones. Tron was part of the group and quite exited by prospects.

We headed for the nearest bar, parked ourselves around a table with a glass of beer each and discussed possibilities. After a while we realized that Tron was not there and got a bit concerned. So a couple of the older guys went looking for him while the rest of us enjoyed our beer.

Time passed and we began to get restless when in walked Tron alongside his “search” party, exited and beaming from ear to ear: “Guess what I found” he exclaimed, “a terrific bar with the most beautiful women and they are really nice and friendly. They even bought me a drink and held me close when dancing! Come on guys, let’s go back there!”

We looked at each other without saying anything. Tron had located the main trans gender bar of the district. Understandably, Tron was repatriated back to his family in Norway, before we commenced the trans Atlantic journey to South America.