I attended a prospect fair in Oklahoma City and visited with many friends that I have not seen in quite some time.  David, one of the many old friends I visited with, reminded me of a story that neither of us are very proud of, but in hindsight very funny.

My good friend David is also in the oil business and had invested in a portion of a well I had re-entered.  Cecil was my wellhead man, the person that supplied and installed the “Christmas tree” that directs the flow of gas and oil from the well to the heater treater, separator and oil and water tanks.

It was a Friday, toward quitting time and David and Cecil were both at my office.  I was bragging about the well and we decided to take an impromptu trip to see it in person.  Along the way, we stopped for a few six-packs of beer.

The well was in Garfield County, Oklahoma, about two hours from Oklahoma City.  It was dark by the time we reached it, David, Cecil and I deep in our cups.  We had all consumed a goodly amount of beer as we each, in turn, tried to tell the tallest tale.  There are no overhead lights on a remote, rural pumping oil well facility.

We had not even thought to bring a flashlight.  Cecil was a wellhead expert, a person that knew quite a lot about high pressure and how to deal with it.  Still, it was dark and we were all inebriated.  I asked Cecil to check something on the head (what, I can’t remember) and when he did, he caused the pop-off valve on the heater treater to explode and blow gas, oil and water high into the air, along with a loud explosion.

Like good former soldiers, David and I both hit the dirt face first.  Cecil was struggling to control the flow, mostly water, blowing on the ground.  None of us had the sobriety to correct the situation.  There were no cell phones at the time so we drove to a pay phone in the little town of Hunter and called Tony, Cecil’s son-in-law.

Like the Lone Ranger to the rescue, Tony hurried north and fixed the problem that, it turned out, was more frightening than it was dire.  When he finished repairing the well, Tony, completely sober and not very happy about being called out on a Friday night, drove us back to the City, rolling his eyes and shaking his head the entire way at our stupidity.

The cold light of morning revealed no contamination; the water blown out of the well had mostly dried up over night.  Yes, I know it was stupid and my only excuse is that I was quite young at the time.  While frightening, David and I could only laugh about the incident during our visit at the prospect fair.

Looking back, I realize the incident was one of many dumb mistakes made during my life.  I also realize that I am not the only person that has made dumb, youthful mistakes and I am in awe that anyone manages to survive much beyond the age of thirty.

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