Orange Boy

Milk in Antarctica is not milk. It is a powder and when added to water it has a distinct chemically taste. The first season I was down there I didn't have any milk at all and that's a bit of a big deal when you drink raw milk as quickly and frequently as I do. The next season was much the same. That is until I had a real need for a milk fix. My bones may have been screaming for some sort of building material. I started to gnaw on the walls at one point, but to stave off such bizarre behavior I reached for the FrostyBoy handle. For those of you who are unfamiliar with FrostyBoy it is a soft serve ice cream delight. However, when your in Antarctica the ice cream still tastes like the chem-milk because they use the same powder. Yet I had a plan to evade the chemical taste.

I thought long and hard over this one and I remember walking through the mall and noticing those funky little outfits worn by teenagers who apparently valued money more than good fashion sense. They wore the multicolored tall hats and worked for an orange with arms, legs and eyes (Orange Julius). This gave me an idea to fix my fix. I drank a great deal of orange juice, probably more than the recommended daily allowance and close to the LD50. I figured my love for the one would cancel out my hate for the other and give me something that would give me my fix and would even out to the ever sought after "not bad" taste by experimenters.

I filled my glass up with FrostyBoy ice cream and filled the remaining space with good old fashioned OJ concentrate. I knew some guys on the inside (kitchen crew guys) who taught me how to rig the machine to give me the concentrate and not the watered down stuff. Believe me I had a problem with the OJ, I went to rehab and am better now although the color orange sends me into the shakes (no pun intended).

Not having a blender I had to make due with what I had in hand, which at the time was a fork. And I began to stir slowly and methodically. The way I was stirring was partly because I had put too much in my glass and because I was beginning to suffer from T3 syndrome, but being that there were only three ingredients (I count love as an ingredient) I wasn't going to quickly forget this one. I tasted it and loved it. It was as close as I could remember to the Orange Julius' I had when I was a kid and at the mall. It was great and thus was born "The Orange Boy".

The name was a bit tricky because I didn't know what to call it, but I loved them and I had nearly 3 a day. I told all my firefighter buddies about them and after some time I got them to try one and they too loved them. I began on a crusade and told everyone about them. Some of the guys from the other shift began to call them "Tasty Tracy's" which just sounded too odd. I stuck with Orange Boy because it was the first name I heard in connection with them and I was being spontaneous at the time.

Time passed and I heard that an art show was going to happen and I jokingly told a friend of mine that we should have a stand and make these Orange Boys' for people. We had an elaborate plan and went on and on about the intricate details. We were bored and this is how we filled our time when we were eating. The day arrived and I realized one that my friend was just full of a lot of talk, but he did dare me to do it. No double dog dare was needed because I thought the whole thing to be quite ridiculous and fun so I was determined to make it happen.

Within an hour I had contacted all my kitchen contacts and other people I found to be valuable with getting supplies and presto I had my own table next to the FrostyBoy and plenty of juice to satisfy the hungry taste buds of McMurdo. Suspecting that my presence would not be appreciated I geared up with all the necessary sanitary stuff. I had the paper hat ice for the juice and spit guard. I also did all the mixing and had clean glasses on hand. It was quite the operation and since it was McMurdo I was an odd duck but not as odd as others.

It was slow going at first. People were unfamiliar with the Orange Boy despite all my hype. However, once my firefighter buddies saw me they laughed and more than that they stood in line for me to make them one. And once they had one they walked around with the sweet drink and told others how wonderful they were and that they were free. I soon had quite a line of people desiring my wonderful creation. I'm not very good with pottery however I did try my had at it and made one of the most ugly vases ever created and it made an appearance on the table with a simple sign that said 'Tips'. Very innocent but very full after an hour into the show.

Things were great the line was long, people were happy and I was having a blast. Then the witch showed up. I went to get more OJ from the machine and it was out. Actually, the machine was off. I looked around for some kitchen help when from behind me I heard an eerie voice say, "I turned it off." I'm convinced that she popped right out of the ground. She was short, beady eyed, bitter, and for some reason despised me. To be honest I'm not even sure she knew me so she could have been more despised at happiness as that is what I was giving people. In the politest way I could and in the simplest tone possible I said, "Great, then you can turn them back on." The witch said, "NSF states that the juice and ice cream machines are only to be on during meal hours." (NSF stands for the Nation Science Foundation and they love all kinds of rules). "Well your making a lot of people very upset (pointing to the crowd) look at all those people you have to tell that you shut off the Orange Boy. I normally wouldn't talk to someone like this but she was a witch. She also made some snide comments about people tipping me. She was one of the managers of the kitchen staff and she took what is one of the worst jobs (kitchen staff) in McMurdo and made it the worst job there. I stood up to her partly because I could and also I was able to say some things that those under her wanted to but were unable to do so simply because she would hold it over them for the remainder of their time there.

The wonder works were closed, but we had a great time and although only lasting an hour I made the town happy. Many were upset by the closing and only inflamed an already present hatred for the witch. Some may argue that "hey the witch was only doing her job" to which I reply "no she wasn't". The bureaucracy down there is very complicated and makes modern day Antarctica the circus that it is. It is all quite unnecessary and frustrating.

The photos were taken by a friend of mine and judging by them being slightly out of focus I think she was going into Orange Boy shock. A common occurrence to those who have been without its sweet nectar for too long. That's my friend Eric Paradis experiencing a little paradise himself.