Easily the most dramatic exit from anyplace I have ever lived. After spending two years teaching mathematics in Ghana I moved to Denmark and used my “connections” to get a job on an offshore drilling platform. I really needed the money. I was making about 80 dollars per month in Ghana. I managed to save about half of what I earned but I was still broke: do the math. To work offshore in the Danish North Sea I had to briefly immigrate to Denmark. Oddly they didn’t care. The paperwork required to get a work permit was trivial. Even better, as a new “immigrant” to Denmark, I was granted a 100% tax holiday on my first six months of wages which turned out to be very handy because my offshore job paid more than any job I had held to that point. For a few months, I flew out on helicopters and moved heavy objects around and counted O-rings. O-rings are incredibly important components of many machines. We wouldn’t miss Marxists, Social Justice Warriors, or transgender whiners if they suddenly disappeared but we’d miss O-rings within a second or two. To truncate a long story. One morning, around noon, the blowout preventers failed and gas and mud started blasting all over the platform. At first, I thought it would be quickly brought under control and I would spend the next week cleaning up but then the gas caught fire and we had to abandon the platform. The blowout happened on an uncharacteristically calm day for the North Sea. Everyone got safely off the platform. One escape pod didn’t work and the crew had to climb down netting and jump into the water. Because the sea was so calm it was easy to pick them up. On a normal day, we might have lost a few people. For me, it was a happy ending. After the platform fire, my job ended but my paychecks did not. I got paid another two months, it was in my contract, for doing sweet squat.