Well, here I am. I made it through my first week in what must be the hottest place on Earth. It’s about a zillion degrees here in the Persian Gulf and I think we must be about 10 miles from the sun. We flew over on a charter flight from Oklahoma City and our first stop was Portsmouth, N.H. where we were met by the VFW and other local supporters. I know that there are people out there who support us and believe in what we’re doing, but it sure is good to see it in person sometimes. I get so sick of hearing the squeaky wheels that constantly criticize the war and say we need to bring “our troops” home immediately. The fact is, they only care about military members insofar that we’re a useful prop for their Bush-hating agenda. They practically gloat as the death toll rises—more proof of Bush’s so-called failed foreign policy. I’m really into jewelry-making and there’s a bead shop back home that I love, but I’ve quit going there. The guy that works there always wants to discuss how much he hates George Bush, the war, and Republicans every time I come in the store, but he supports the troops! Sure he does and he’s always polite to my face. Then I came in one Saturday when the owner happened to be there and she asked me, “Do you know about our military discount?”
I told her no I didn’t, but thank you. I saw the Bush-hater in the background purse his lips and look away as she told me about the discount. Where is that oh-so elusive liberal support for the troops? In reality this guy is just like the rest of the anti-military crowd. He thinks we’re all too stupid, uneducated, and poor to get better jobs.
We didn’t get the same welcome when we stopped in Bucharest. Not that we would expect it anyway, it’s a different country and they have no obligation to like us. It’s just that when we landed, they wouldn’t let us disembark. We could stand on the airplane steps—that is until somebody got the idea to stand on the bottom step and step one foot onto the tarmac. Instantly, the control tower barked at the crew to “get those people back on the plane”. I hope the air traffic controller remembers this when Putin starts to extend his clammy tentacles into Romania (and don’t think the SOB won’t try).
One thing I’m finding out is that if you’re going to war, it pays to be in the Air Force. It may not be heaven here, but I’m not getting shot at and I’m not exactly deprived. The only thing that really sucks so far is that I’m sharing a room with a perpetually pissed-off diva. Everything seems to set her off. Walking into the room while she’s asleep sets her off. Speaking to her sets her off.
There is a very tiny BX here as well. It sells only the most basic necessities and very little of what you’d actually want. However, when it’s all there is, I find myself eyeballing things I would never spend money on back home. Cheap, chintzy crap I wouldn’t touch with a barge pole. The A/C here blows out ice chunks and it gets cold at night so I went looking for a blanket. I ended up with a Korean “mink” blanket with dolphins leaping across it. I bet you’d never see it in Martha Stewart’s house.
In addition to the gym, the giant pool, and free food 24/7, we have a Subway, Pizza Hut, and Baskin-Robbins. Plus, I won’t have to pay for gas for the rest of the year and I’m making money hand over fist. Without having to pay to fill up my car, I’ll be rich as Croesus by the time I leave here compared to before I came.
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