Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Camp Gannon 09012008
Gannon 09012008
Today began early- Wake up at 0530 for an 0600 meeting, then 0700 depart for the port. Got there, drove around a bit, then we got out of the Humvees and walked the port. We went up to the exit gate and I watched the Iraqis process arriving people. The pat-downs were cursory at best. But the hardest part for me was standing around in IBA. No matter what I did, I hurt. Well, my back hurt. After a bit we climbed into a lookout tower where I tried to rest my elbows on the edge. But the effort of lifting my elbows up to almost chest level put a kink in my back so I stopped that. We walked back and watched more passengers get processed. By then, I was just a bundle of pain in my back. We walked around and watched the pedestrians go through the luggage check, then went over to the admin building where I could drop the IBA. I watched the marines do their BATS thing, then I asked one of our terps to help me find the civilian customs guy. He did. I got a captain to go with me so I wouldn't be alone. The two of us had a good conversation with the customs guy. I asked commodities and volume of cargo. Since there are no commercial trucks through here, he didn't have a lot to tell me about commercial ops.
When we got back, we had a good de-brief and I mentioned what I saw that was not good- after the men are patted down, they comingle with the women on the way to the luggage x-ray and female exam. I pointed out that this was very bad- whatever contraband people may have, the could begin by letting the woman carry it, then while they are comingled along the wall to the baggage check/female pat-down, she could slip the contraband to him because he's done being patted down. Additionally, once in the female pat-down and baggage X-ray building, there seem to be zero female pat downs because there is no female available. And to make things even worse, people put their luggage into the machine, but the females uniformly kept their purses and small plastic bags with them, so something the size of a football didn't get x-rayed. I told our Major that this seemed impossible to me. Additionally, the Iraqi customs guy at the X-ray machine was working alone, a bad situation. He needs a partner, a back-up. If he told the ladies to put their bags through the X-ray machine, he'd have no one to back him up if they got angry.
Now for some observations of my own. I was exhausted after carrying the IBA with ammo and rifle all morning. My back hurts. I will sleep well tonight.
For moi: Been seeing myself at the Fbg RV park. Here's what I see, and maybe I'll put in some caveats afterwards. I pull in to the RV park, get my trailer sited. I hook up the water, sewer, internet and electricity. Then I pull open the awning and set out my small table and a camp chair. I pull out my ladder and attach my hibachi to it. One or two match-light coals and a handful of regular charcoal on top. I go inside and take out a steak from the marinating fridge. I peel an ear of corn and pick the cornsilk off. I put some butter and salt and pepper and Mrs. Dash's on and wrap the whole thing in aluminum foil. I get a Richiebrau beer from the fridge and open it. The TV says it's evening news time. At the commercial, I glance at the coals- it's time to cook. I carry the corn and steak outside and put them on the hibachi. Quickly I go back inside and make a salad- lettuce and tomatoes and some vinegar and oil. I go outside, flip the steak and roll the corn. I go back inside and get a plate and silverware. A few more minutes and it's time to eat. The steak goes from the grill to my plate, so does the corn. I spray some water on the coals to save them for another time. Inside again, I sit and eat- steak nice and rare, corn, salad and the rest of my Richiebrau. TV is good, but I'm glad I have a plipper. The tasty steak warms my stomach. The corn is sweet and salty at the same time, improved by the goodness of the butter. Even the salad is refreshing because it's crisp and the tomatoes are tangy. And the Richiebrau is still good.
I finish eating and take my dish to the sink. Washing one dish and a few pieces of silverware takes no time. Then I go outside and get the grill from the hibachi. That takes a bit longer, but still goes quickly. I re-use the tinfoil from the corn to store the left-over charcoal for another time. The few ashes go into my trash bag. I walk the trash to the RV park's trash can. The empty beer bottle goes into the cardboard case because one day, Richie will refill that bottle and I'll have more Richiebrau. Yes, even though I set up my small table outside, I chose to eat inside because I could watch TV better. Maybe I'll need a trip to the bathroom. That's fine because my bathroom works very well.
I relax a bit more with the TV. But it's now almost completely dark so I take another Richiebrau and a cigar and go outside. I do a bad thing- I put my feet up on the steps from the camp chair while I smoke my cigar and I use the table to park the Richiebrau. From there, I can hear the TV but I pretty much tune it out. I can't see the stars from in front of the door, so I get up and move my chair to the area between the trailer and my truck. I drop the tailgate and put my feet up on the trailer and lean back to blow cigar smoke up in the air. I feel warm air around me. I see stars come out, some brighter, some fainter. the sky's the same gunmetal blue-black as in Iraq, but the world around me is very different. How can that be? The same stars rendering me an insignificant speck in the universe but the world is so different. My surroundings are paved, not dusty. The air is warm in both worlds. But the air smells different. And I am different. In Iraq, I was grungy and sweaty. Here' I'm clean, thanks to the shower I carry with me. In Iraq, I could hear the faint call of the mosque at this time of the evening. Here I hear the TV faintly. But there's more. In Iraq I carried a gun everywhere. Here, I *could* carry a gun, but usually don't. And though there were, I believed, many people with AK-47s in Iraq who'd have loved to shoot me, none did. Here I can't tell who might want to mug me but neither situation bothers/bothered me much.
My mind drifts along such confusing and contradictory paths. Maybe I shouldn't try to compare the two. But with a cigar in my hand and a beer next to me, my mind goes where it wants, not where other people might think was typical.
Here's where my fantasies diverge. One way is that I meet a nice female about now- not a child anymore, but with grown children of her own. I see her, ask if she'd like to sit with me a spell, and we talk. I give her the choice of a Richiebrau or a glass of wine because I have both in my fridge. I turn on the radio inside and we don't quite listen to the music while we talk. Down this path are companionship and romance. Nice to think about but embarassing to write about just yet. Embarassing because it seems presumptuous to declare myself so attractive that nice women would chat me and romance me.
The other fantasy path is where I finish my cigar and beer, check to make sure the truck is locked and go inside and fix my bed. Yes, it's my bed. I built it so it's "mine." I put on my sleeping shorts and slip into my Sylvester slippers. Make that "Sylvester Slyppers." I watch the small TV in the bedroom and when the shows get a bit boring, I brush my teeth. Then I come back to bed and floss while I watch TV. Now I become downright decadent. While in my nice, clean bed with nice, clean sheets and my teeth brushed nicely and flossed even more nicely, I pull out my laptop and surf the net while I watch cable TV. If I wait a bit, maybe Australia will be waking up. Or I might find Michigan online just about now. Heck, maybe I'll catch my son in California and we'll chat because he and I get along so well. So my day will wind up with a good meal in me, a philosophical cigar behind me, and some emotional support from friends and family online. I'll set my alarm, but pretty late, like nine in the morning, so if I wake up earlier, I can convince myself that I'm ever-so-diligent about my schedule.
During the night, the toilet is just a few steps away. And I don't need shower shoes to hike 50 yards to the toilet.
In the morning, I'll fix some standard brekkie- oatmeal with Tetley's tea. Then I'll be a nervous nellie about security and lock the trailer as I drive off to meet my realtor. We'll sit down and talk about what's available and where the homes are and what they'll cost and how I can apply for a mortgage, yadda yadda. We'll drive out to look at houses. (I'll offer to drive so I can learn the area while she co-pilots.) I've brought my camera and a notebook. No, I've brought my laptop. I can upload the pix into the laptop and save each one as a separate page. Later, I'll review each. Aw, maybe I'll just take the hand-written notes and the pix. I'll look for what I want- a place to park my trailer, a place to have a garden and a shop, and maybe a place to build another home out of containers. Lots of variables, but I'm in no hurry. For the moment, I'm living in the RV park. Worst case scenario, I decide that nothing suits me, so I hook up my trailer and keep driving. But I'm also hoping to find a place where Richie and Kimmie could be happy. Maybe Texas isn't that place. But maybe Texas is that place for me. This will be a tough choice because I like living with them. It might take some courage to live alone.
And that takes us back to the caveats above. Living in Texas could be nice. But Richie and Kimmie might decide not to live with me because they don't like Texas. Ah, maybe if they come with me, they might decide it's not so bad. We'll have to see.
Boy, this is one thin-skinned fantasy, no?
Today began early- Wake up at 0530 for an 0600 meeting, then 0700 depart for the port. Got there, drove around a bit, then we got out of the Humvees and walked the port. We went up to the exit gate and I watched the Iraqis process arriving people. The pat-downs were cursory at best. But the hardest part for me was standing around in IBA. No matter what I did, I hurt. Well, my back hurt. After a bit we climbed into a lookout tower where I tried to rest my elbows on the edge. But the effort of lifting my elbows up to almost chest level put a kink in my back so I stopped that. We walked back and watched more passengers get processed. By then, I was just a bundle of pain in my back. We walked around and watched the pedestrians go through the luggage check, then went over to the admin building where I could drop the IBA. I watched the marines do their BATS thing, then I asked one of our terps to help me find the civilian customs guy. He did. I got a captain to go with me so I wouldn't be alone. The two of us had a good conversation with the customs guy. I asked commodities and volume of cargo. Since there are no commercial trucks through here, he didn't have a lot to tell me about commercial ops.
When we got back, we had a good de-brief and I mentioned what I saw that was not good- after the men are patted down, they comingle with the women on the way to the luggage x-ray and female exam. I pointed out that this was very bad- whatever contraband people may have, the could begin by letting the woman carry it, then while they are comingled along the wall to the baggage check/female pat-down, she could slip the contraband to him because he's done being patted down. Additionally, once in the female pat-down and baggage X-ray building, there seem to be zero female pat downs because there is no female available. And to make things even worse, people put their luggage into the machine, but the females uniformly kept their purses and small plastic bags with them, so something the size of a football didn't get x-rayed. I told our Major that this seemed impossible to me. Additionally, the Iraqi customs guy at the X-ray machine was working alone, a bad situation. He needs a partner, a back-up. If he told the ladies to put their bags through the X-ray machine, he'd have no one to back him up if they got angry.
Now for some observations of my own. I was exhausted after carrying the IBA with ammo and rifle all morning. My back hurts. I will sleep well tonight.
For moi: Been seeing myself at the Fbg RV park. Here's what I see, and maybe I'll put in some caveats afterwards. I pull in to the RV park, get my trailer sited. I hook up the water, sewer, internet and electricity. Then I pull open the awning and set out my small table and a camp chair. I pull out my ladder and attach my hibachi to it. One or two match-light coals and a handful of regular charcoal on top. I go inside and take out a steak from the marinating fridge. I peel an ear of corn and pick the cornsilk off. I put some butter and salt and pepper and Mrs. Dash's on and wrap the whole thing in aluminum foil. I get a Richiebrau beer from the fridge and open it. The TV says it's evening news time. At the commercial, I glance at the coals- it's time to cook. I carry the corn and steak outside and put them on the hibachi. Quickly I go back inside and make a salad- lettuce and tomatoes and some vinegar and oil. I go outside, flip the steak and roll the corn. I go back inside and get a plate and silverware. A few more minutes and it's time to eat. The steak goes from the grill to my plate, so does the corn. I spray some water on the coals to save them for another time. Inside again, I sit and eat- steak nice and rare, corn, salad and the rest of my Richiebrau. TV is good, but I'm glad I have a plipper. The tasty steak warms my stomach. The corn is sweet and salty at the same time, improved by the goodness of the butter. Even the salad is refreshing because it's crisp and the tomatoes are tangy. And the Richiebrau is still good.
I finish eating and take my dish to the sink. Washing one dish and a few pieces of silverware takes no time. Then I go outside and get the grill from the hibachi. That takes a bit longer, but still goes quickly. I re-use the tinfoil from the corn to store the left-over charcoal for another time. The few ashes go into my trash bag. I walk the trash to the RV park's trash can. The empty beer bottle goes into the cardboard case because one day, Richie will refill that bottle and I'll have more Richiebrau. Yes, even though I set up my small table outside, I chose to eat inside because I could watch TV better. Maybe I'll need a trip to the bathroom. That's fine because my bathroom works very well.
I relax a bit more with the TV. But it's now almost completely dark so I take another Richiebrau and a cigar and go outside. I do a bad thing- I put my feet up on the steps from the camp chair while I smoke my cigar and I use the table to park the Richiebrau. From there, I can hear the TV but I pretty much tune it out. I can't see the stars from in front of the door, so I get up and move my chair to the area between the trailer and my truck. I drop the tailgate and put my feet up on the trailer and lean back to blow cigar smoke up in the air. I feel warm air around me. I see stars come out, some brighter, some fainter. the sky's the same gunmetal blue-black as in Iraq, but the world around me is very different. How can that be? The same stars rendering me an insignificant speck in the universe but the world is so different. My surroundings are paved, not dusty. The air is warm in both worlds. But the air smells different. And I am different. In Iraq, I was grungy and sweaty. Here' I'm clean, thanks to the shower I carry with me. In Iraq, I could hear the faint call of the mosque at this time of the evening. Here I hear the TV faintly. But there's more. In Iraq I carried a gun everywhere. Here, I *could* carry a gun, but usually don't. And though there were, I believed, many people with AK-47s in Iraq who'd have loved to shoot me, none did. Here I can't tell who might want to mug me but neither situation bothers/bothered me much.
My mind drifts along such confusing and contradictory paths. Maybe I shouldn't try to compare the two. But with a cigar in my hand and a beer next to me, my mind goes where it wants, not where other people might think was typical.
Here's where my fantasies diverge. One way is that I meet a nice female about now- not a child anymore, but with grown children of her own. I see her, ask if she'd like to sit with me a spell, and we talk. I give her the choice of a Richiebrau or a glass of wine because I have both in my fridge. I turn on the radio inside and we don't quite listen to the music while we talk. Down this path are companionship and romance. Nice to think about but embarassing to write about just yet. Embarassing because it seems presumptuous to declare myself so attractive that nice women would chat me and romance me.
The other fantasy path is where I finish my cigar and beer, check to make sure the truck is locked and go inside and fix my bed. Yes, it's my bed. I built it so it's "mine." I put on my sleeping shorts and slip into my Sylvester slippers. Make that "Sylvester Slyppers." I watch the small TV in the bedroom and when the shows get a bit boring, I brush my teeth. Then I come back to bed and floss while I watch TV. Now I become downright decadent. While in my nice, clean bed with nice, clean sheets and my teeth brushed nicely and flossed even more nicely, I pull out my laptop and surf the net while I watch cable TV. If I wait a bit, maybe Australia will be waking up. Or I might find Michigan online just about now. Heck, maybe I'll catch my son in California and we'll chat because he and I get along so well. So my day will wind up with a good meal in me, a philosophical cigar behind me, and some emotional support from friends and family online. I'll set my alarm, but pretty late, like nine in the morning, so if I wake up earlier, I can convince myself that I'm ever-so-diligent about my schedule.
During the night, the toilet is just a few steps away. And I don't need shower shoes to hike 50 yards to the toilet.
In the morning, I'll fix some standard brekkie- oatmeal with Tetley's tea. Then I'll be a nervous nellie about security and lock the trailer as I drive off to meet my realtor. We'll sit down and talk about what's available and where the homes are and what they'll cost and how I can apply for a mortgage, yadda yadda. We'll drive out to look at houses. (I'll offer to drive so I can learn the area while she co-pilots.) I've brought my camera and a notebook. No, I've brought my laptop. I can upload the pix into the laptop and save each one as a separate page. Later, I'll review each. Aw, maybe I'll just take the hand-written notes and the pix. I'll look for what I want- a place to park my trailer, a place to have a garden and a shop, and maybe a place to build another home out of containers. Lots of variables, but I'm in no hurry. For the moment, I'm living in the RV park. Worst case scenario, I decide that nothing suits me, so I hook up my trailer and keep driving. But I'm also hoping to find a place where Richie and Kimmie could be happy. Maybe Texas isn't that place. But maybe Texas is that place for me. This will be a tough choice because I like living with them. It might take some courage to live alone.
And that takes us back to the caveats above. Living in Texas could be nice. But Richie and Kimmie might decide not to live with me because they don't like Texas. Ah, maybe if they come with me, they might decide it's not so bad. We'll have to see.
Boy, this is one thin-skinned fantasy, no?
# posted by rich @ 2:39 AM 
