I'm sitting here in the corner of the tool room, making my inventory like a good little girl, then all of a sudden, the room is filled with the gassy smell of, well, gasoline. I turned around in time to see a fellow maintenence peon, looking very put out, asking me if I had any green coveralls. (Green coveralls are for extra messy jobs that even our normal blue coveralls wont stand up to).
I dont have any, so I take him over to supply, next room over.
And this isnt some "gas leak on the pavement at a gas station" smell eather. No. The stink permeated through the entire room... which is, I must say, enormous. Its the largest room in our hangar, aside from the hangar bay. This boy reeked. I was getting a contact high from him.
So, as we're looking through supply on our fruitless search for green coveralls, he and I are going back and forth about what happened to him.
Turns out one of the tanks just dumped on him, as he was doing samples or something.
Our search for green coveralls was fruitless, and he went to the shower. (after a while, that gas will eat your skin off) and when he came back, I took pity on him and offered to let him use my spare set of blue coveralls that I had stowed in my desk. I figured they'd be highwaters on the poor guy, because they almost are on me, but when he put them on, they fit perfectly.
He's taller than me. I pondered this, then realized that women often have longer legs. Oh well.
So now there's two people running around the squadron in my uniform (it has my last name stitched on the front)
I just found this amusing.
