Litigation

Gulf Oil Perils Continue

By Angel Reyes

News out of Port Fourchon remains abysmal.  Life on an oil rig has always been tough and dangerous. 35,000 people work on Gulf of Mexico oil rigs, and every day those men and women are asked to perform dangerous work that keeps them away from their families for weeks at a time.

Last week's tragedy was one of the worst oil-rig disasters in decades. This tragedy again shines a spotlight on safety at Swiss-based Transocean's Deepwater facility operating under contract by British Petroleum.  BP's safety record is abominable.  The U.S. Minerals Management Service continues to investigate last week's explosion which left 11 people missing and presumed dead. 

Click "CONTINUE READING" below for the full AP Story.

The job has changed, but it still has a toll

12:00 AM CDT on Sunday, April 25, 2010
Cain Burdeau, The Associated Press

PORT FOURCHON, La. – Life on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico has come a long way since the black gold was discovered underwater here 60 years ago.

Living for weeks on a platform the size of two football fields about 50 miles from the mainland can be comfortable, with good pay, catered cafeterias serving steak and spicy Cajun food, lounges with pool tables and even mini movie theaters. At other times, it's a water world of hot metal, cramped sleeping quarters and skin-burning sun. The hardest part is simply being away from family.

Karl Kleppinger Jr., an unflappable Desert Storm veteran who spent more than 10 years working on oil rigs, was a dedicated floorman who made about $75,000 a year working off the Louisiana coast on the Deepwater Horizon, which erupted into a giant fireball Tuesday night. He was among 11 workers presumed dead after Coast Guard officials suspended their search Friday, saying they believed the workers never made it off the state-of-the-art semi-submersible platform.

Kleppinger, 38, worked near the drilling, at the heart of the operation. He had been away from his family for about three weeks when he made his nightly call home just before the blast, but the long-distance banter was different this time, said his wife, Tracy.

"He couldn't get home soon enough this time. I don't know why," she said. "I can't explain, there was this feeling that things were bad. It was a string of 'I love you, I need you home.' That basically was the final words to each other."

The accident was one of the worst oil-rig disasters in the Gulf of Mexico in decades. Crews were still trying to clean up the oil that spilled during the fire but had to halt activities Saturday because of choppy seas, strong wind and rain.

The tragedy brought even more attention to safety for an industry known for its dangers, whether it's the helicopter ride to the platform or working on the rig itself.

"You could know how long someone had been in the oil industry by how many digits were missing," said Windell Curole, a Lafourche Parish levee manager whose father raised the family with the sweat of long days on oil rigs. "Back then, it was wildcatting in the truest sense. Crews didn't eat lunch, they worked so hard."

There have been dozens of deaths and hundreds of injuries over the past several years, convincing the U.S. Minerals Management Service, which oversees the industry, that new safety procedures aimed at preventing human error were needed. The new rules are still being developed.

Companies say they go to great lengths to make life on the Gulf comfortable and safe. And officials with Transocean Ltd., which owned the Deepwater and was under contract by oil giant BP, point to the other 115 crew members who safely made it off the platform as evidence.

Bud Danenberger, former offshore regulations chief at the Minerals Management Service, said safety training is ingrained in the industry.

"They have a very good safety record. That's why this is disturbing. It reflects poorly on everybody," Danenberger said.

About 35,000 people work in the Gulf each day, and most do it for the paycheck.

"I don't think many people fall in love with it," said Kenneth Cox, a 31-year-old offshore worker from Trinidad who was at a truck stop in Port Fourchon during a stint on land this week. "It's the good money."

Cain Burdeau, The Associated Press

Full post as published by Angel Reyes Blog on April 26, 2010 (boomark / email).