Freight Dog Blues Again

There were maggots in the fish cooler again
I could see them wriggling around
Down underneath the old spoiled crew lunches

So I found the drain hose in the cabinet and hooked it up
Running the green rubber snake down the ladder and out the entry door
Making for a foul smelling mini waterfall
Which slowly continued as I tilted the large cooler
Trying to get out as much moisture at I could
Dreading the hand cleaning process that was coming

Finally emptied of water
I closed the drain and unhooked the hose
Stowing it back in the cabinet
With it's open ends mated together
Containing the smell from perception

Which left me with the cooler
Now just a damp pile of food waste

I reflected while I cleaned it out into a trash bag
How I always hated the first few days of a rotation
When I took over from the former ride on mechanic

Granted, there were exceptions to this
As with following Harold
Who was a neatnick with probably OCD
He left everything neat as the proverbial pin
Nothing to do initially but review the paperwork

But most times were just like this
A day or two of cleaning up someone else's mess
Rearranging things to my liking
So I could be relatively happy for the next eighteen days or so
Riding around the world on this aluminum tube

Eight hours to Mumbai
I'm not the least bit tired
So a nap of any length is out of the question

I play with my phone after takeoff
But Plants v Zombies is only fun for so long
Slipping the phone into my pocket
I let the access ladder down
Which is sort of an aluminum version of an attic pull down
This lets me down onto the main cargo deck

Up in the nose of the plane
There sits the spare parts cabinet
It holds everything I might commonly need
Plus some special tools for various jobs

Every few weeks or so it all has to be inventoried
Just so everyone knows what is there
And what needs to be replaced

Funnily enough
Sometimes there are extra things there as well
Picked up from another company aircraft
Or a part that got sent but never used
And they all need to find their proper homes
Otherwise they go to waste

I pull up a crate and sit down in front of the large box
Pulling open the bottom drawer
And start sorting
Notating on my clipboard as I go
Rocking with the movement of the aircraft
Moving at six hundred miles per hour
At thirty three thousand feet

I think we are over the Mediterranean
But I don't even go look
Because after awhile it all looks the same

I hope something breaks so I have something to do
Then again I don't
Because things can get really complicated in a hurry

I'll just sort all these parts for now
In the chilly main cargo floor surrounded by pallets of cargo
With the freight dog blues once again