America: 50☆Stars (Vol. 2)

Episode 6: Happiness is...

November 1976—Fairbanks, Alaska

The Last Frontier certainly lives up to that nickname.

Even with the construction of a zig-zagging trail of steel pipeline cutting through mountains, valleys, and all sorts of landforms, acres of Alaskan wilderness continue to dominate the landscape. The same can be said for the region's climate. Freezing temperatures throughout the last month of autumn are typical experiences for Alaskans. But for many Southerners who are accustomed to mild winters in the Southern United States, Alaskan winter may as well be the ultimate test of survival.

If not for the high payroll, most Okies and Texans won't last longer than two weeks working on the oil pipeline. Work conditions aren't ideal. Working twelve hours, every day of the week, and in the middle of treacherous terrain, it's a tough and miserable job. Even on the rare occasion of being given time off, there's not much to do besides hunting and hiking in the Alaskan wilderness. The closest "city" is at least two hours away by vehicle, however, it isn't worth the trip. No movie theaters. No nightclubs. There are only bars and restaurants, but they're nothing like the ones on the mainland. It also doesn't help the 15,000 or so residents living in the lackluster city hate their guts, simply for being rednecks. The whole situation makes them homesick.

But hey, at least they get hot lunches!

"Are we early?" Oklahoma and Texas head to the campsite's cafeteria, expecting a line to be forming at the counter. He's somewhat surprised to see they're the only ones to show up.

"So what if we're early?" Texas doesn't bat an eye at the empty cafeteria. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse!"

"I don't think there's horse meat on the menu."

"It's an idiom."

"Oh."

She slaps him on the back and laughs, "Oh, you Okies crack me up!" She steps up to the counter. "Hey! Anyone in the kitchen? I like two ribeye steaks cooked medium-rare."

"You didn't have to order for me, Tex."

"Both steaks are for me," she corrects him.

"Fatass," he grumbles.

"Hey!" she hollers into the kitchen again. "I'm starving! Do I have to hop over this counter and make them myself?"

Unable to ignore the rowdy Texan any longer, a kitchen server comes back from their smoke break to deal with the unruly Southerners. "Can I help you?" she asks in a monotonous voice.

"Yeah! You can help my empty stomach with some ribeye steaks. Where's my hot lunch?"

"And mine, too!" Oklahoma adds.

The server scowls. "Sorry. No hot lunches today."

Texas laughs, "Very funny, lunch lady! But seriously, where's my steak?"

"In a freezer."

"Well, get cooking!"

"No."

"... What?" She draws a pistol from her holster and points it at the server's head. "Don't pull my leg, lunch lady! I work twelve hours a day in this freezing hellscape while you get to work in a warm kitchen all day. The only thing keeping me sane is the pay and the hot lunches I get every day. So, get me two big juicy steaks on a plate and a can of Dr. Pepper on the side!"

"You better do as she says," he advises.

The server doesn't budge. "Go ahead and shoot. This kitchen won't serve hot lunches from this day forward."

She grits her teeth. "Why you..." Oklahoma holds her back from pistol-whipping the stubborn server.

"Why aren't you serving hot lunches? This is a cafeteria, right?" he questions.