Community Centers

So we'll start with the Firehouse, I suppose, not because it's where I work and spend most of my time, but because this time of year it is one of, probably, three centers the community revolves around.

The business end of the Firehouse

It's not really that much different than most other fire stations: garage doors, fire trucks, a kitchen, bunk rooms. We do things all day like most other departments, stretches to warm up in the morning followed by truck checks and house chores, and then fire inspections and training in the afternoon. We get an hour for lunch and another for dinner, but only rarely does anyone here cook because everyone eats in the galley. After dinner the evening is ours to spend as we choose. There's a TV room with a pool table; a few internet connections, although it's really slow; and we can go to the gym for an hour. I'd like to tell you that I got over being lazy and that I make good use of this opportunity, but I don't. Sometimes I just go to bed.

The slumber lasts until 7am when music…sometimes muzak, depending on who the dispatcher is…is piped across the PA system to wake us up for the morning chores. I usually mix up the water to mop, mainly because I don't make it down early enough to get the kitchen and I don't like doing the trash. The other shift comes in at 8am, we stand in a big circle and look at each other for a while, then the whole cycle begins all over for them.

We work 24-hour shifts, a day on then a day off, with an extra day off every other week. It lines up so that our extra day off is a regular day off on the other weeks, so in my case I never work on Wednesdays.

I've been checked off as a driver on the engine and tanker, and since right now there aren't too many others I get to do that most of the time. Which is fine with me, the little boy inside me has always liked driving big things. And also fine with me that I don't so often have to put on a heavy air bottle and lug around a 3-gallon water extinguisher. Instead I get to stand in the cold and make sure the pump doesn't freeze while the others are inside resetting the smoke detector. And get cold, the essential part of any Antarctic experience.

Kristen, one of our four dispatchers

Some of us have to cover meal breaks and the occasional overnight dispatch shift. This is where the firehouse becomes more of a community center: dispatch does way more than mind the fire alarm panel. When someone calls from off continent, it rings in the firehouse (yes, you can direct dial Antarctica, pretty neat, eh?). If you're locked out of your room or your neighbors are too noisy or something is leaking water, you call the firehouse. Vehicles leaving town to go work on the ice have to check in, so that we know who is out if the weather turns foul. Hikers leaving to summit Observation Hill check in and out and borrow a radio for the same reason. The busiest task though is playing directory assistance for the station. We have the only phone book. MedStar folks, does this all sound a bit familiar?

So there's one.

Everyone eats in the dining hall. There's not any other choice, except a few nights each week when Burger Bar is open. They serve up four meals a day most days: breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight rations, or midrats. The name midrats might sound a bit unappetizing, but it is usually the best meal of the day. Sundays they serve brunch which is a much larger spread, and probably the meal of the week to look forward to.

Serving area of the galley

Right now there are only about 400 people on station, but when things get into full swing there will be over 1000 hungry mouths to feed at each sitting (except midrats, only night shift workers get into that). The food isn't all bad, but I wouldn't say it's all good either. There are usually two meat options and a vegetarian option, although the veg options smack of a certain sameness: there is only so much you can do with tabouleh, tempeh and couscous. The stock of freshies—fresh fruits and vegetables—has run out, and there will be no more until flights resume in October.

You can eat as much as you like. There is a soft serve ice cream machine, and on weekends there is hot fudge to go along with it. Fortunately for me there isn't a pop machine in the galley (and no vending machines anywhere, the only place you can get such junk food is in the store), although there are a couple of cool-aid fountains. There are no cows in Antarctica, so the only milk we get is powdered. The same menu gets randomly repeated over about a two week cycle, so I learned quickly to hoard things that are appetizing.

That's two.

After hours there are a pretty good number of options as well. There is a library, saunas scattered amongst the various dorms (these are not as much of a luxury as you'd think, when you are frozen to the bone and your skin has given all of its moisture over to the dry Antarctic atmosphere), TVs and movies in the lounges. But the most common options are McMurdo's three drinking establishments: Southern Exposure, Gallagher's, and the Coffee House, which are, respectively, the strip club, the brothel, and the crack house. I'm just kidding about that second part. Really.

Gallagher's and Southern are pretty much equivalent, except that you can smoke at Southern. They have a big air cleaner, but even still, even when no one is smoking, five minutes in the place instills you with that unmistakable scent that is all but impossible to get rid of. Gallagher's is named after a man named Chuck Gallagher that used to run the recreation department back in the days when the Navy was in charge here, and died here one winter; before that it was known as the Erebus Club, after the volcano that we live on. They do karaoke and bingo there on alternating weeks, and this is where Burger Bar is a few nights a week. Fortunately they make grilled cheese as well; sometimes this is my saving grace. The Coffee House serves coffee, tea, and a good choice of wines. And, of course, coke.

Better beer. Well, better than some.

On Thursday nights, our Kiwi neighbors invite us over to their station for drinks. They are welcome here anytime, but since we outnumber them by something like 15-to-1 we can only go there with an invitation. It's not really that different though—all the same people, just a different venue. And better beer.

So life here isn't so different from other places, but there are manifold little things to keep you on your toes. Next time, we'll talk about the uncountable quirks that shape life here on this harsh continent.

Back to the Table of Continents