Where's the Bathroom?

I’ve wanted to write to you all for the longest time. There is usually always something I can tell you. It may not be terribly interesting or exciting, but it’s at least a pondering that amuses me in some way. I am usually limited by my access to the Internet due to the lack of wireless and a computer lab that gets pretty busy. Lately I have also been busy with a new role, which I’ll tell you about later, and once my day comes to a close, I just have not been able to get motivated to do much. But, as random and cosmic as you can get, something extraordinary happen tonight that I think may have changed everything!!
I was, yet again, working late. But tonight would be different. And it was such a shooting star; you’re not going to believe me when I tell you. I was finishing up some work at about 9:30 PM, I was ready to shut down the engines, climb into my warm sleeping bag and start a movie. I plugged in my headphones to listen to some tunes while I finished what I was doing. I was a few songs deep into a pretty good set when I heard a familiar voice, and soul piercing lyrics. Now, in the past, this song usually evoked an entire bar to burst into a loud chorus. It doesn’t matter your age, gender, race, fraternity, sorority, sports team, sexual orientation, political ideology, religion – whatever. When freakin’ Mike Tyson and Evander Holyfield hear this song they embrace and squeeze each other’s asses!!!!
Take me away Journey. Faithfully.
I put it on repeat. And at the time that I write this to you, it probably has played at least a dozen times. And I’m going to keep looping. Only this time I don’t think about a crowded barroom, Mike or Evander. I think about my beautiful wife. Ok, ok. So, I’m not a rock star, and I don’t necessarily lead a “circus-top life.” But, I guess I got the whole distance-thing, the girl stands by the boy, yada yada yada. Faithfully. And it was something she told me one of the last times we spoke that sort of struck a chord. Lindsay would rather me share with her as much about what I am doing over here as I can. She understands I can’t tell her everything, at least not now anyway. Initially, I was censoring what I told her because I didn’t want her to worry. Well, the strong individual that she is told me to shove that nonsense, and that she will worry more knowing that I am only telling her “everything is great” to appease her nerves. So, that said, I’ll go ahead and divulge the goods.
Ok. So now that we got started, I definitely have lots to catch everyone up on. First, Lindsay reads all my messages before all of you so anything I might have to say doesn’t catch her by too much surprise.
Note: just started ‘repeat’ number 15 or so. Gotta love Tyler Perry.
So let’s get into it, shall we. Hey listen folks, here is the deal I am going to make with all of you. I am going to tell you just as much as I possibly can. I am going to tell you about my experiences. I may cuss a little. I may inject a little opinion, and hopefully a lot of fact. I am sure I will throw in some random thoughts or mindless babble. My point is this - please do not take offense to anything I may say. A fact is a fact, so that’s easy. You can’t get made at me. My opinions are just that – MY opinions. Like all of you, our opinions are typically based on our experiences. So, while I tell you about my experiences, there will be some opinion. If you choose to read, and don’t like what I have to say from time-to-time, I guess your SOL (that’s “shit our of luck”). My feeling is that you all read books (some of you, anyway) and magazines, you watch the f’ing horrible media that we have (except Fox News – they’re good to go), and I know you watch TV and go to movies. So, really, nothing I say should be anything you haven’t been exposed to in some medium. So, just because it’s coming from me, don’t be so shocked. Now, I won’t be able to tell you everything. At least, not through Internet avenues (email, blogging, etc.). Some things will have to wait until I get home. You get the point. Moving on . . .
Let’s break the ice, so to speak. It’s really cold here. I mean – fucking cold! The tent we live in doesn’t really have any heat. At least, not heat that works very well. It will warm-up in the tent during the day when the sun is out, but come night, you’ll need a third sock. Before we came here we were issued a lot of cold weather gear, which helps. But, come game time (i.e. mission time), you don’t always get to pack that much stuff. So, it’s all about finding a ‘comfortable cold.’ So far I haven’t found it. It is just damn cold! Good news, though: on top of the cold, we are entering the rainy season. FML!
I am living on Camp Leatherneck, which is in the Helmand Province in southern Afghanistan. Now, when I say “camp” and “tents” you may be thinking “squalor.” It is actually quite the opposite. One thing that has surprised me is the amount of activity that goes on around here. Activity may be a poor choice of words, but it is general enough to say there is just a lot of different shit happening here.
For starters, it is not just US Marines. There is also Army and Navy. There are military personnel from other countries, like Estonia, Great Britain and Denmark. In fact, I don’t know if there is actually a dividing line between the different ‘bases.’ The Brits have Bastion I and Bastion II, and the Danes have their area. But, just like Roswell, Alpharetta, Sandy Springs and Dunwoody, it all just runs together in various places. Sure, you get somewhere and you know you are in Roswell, and not Alpharetta, because you just got pulled over by a cop for doing 2 miles over the speed limit. Well, it is just like that here. I knew I was on Bastion when I saw different uniforms and heard different accents. But, it is not like what you may think, where you drive through barb wired fences, with sentries standing guard and asking for your identification. No, not like that at all. In fact, we sometimes go over to the Brits area because they have better WiFi and a Pizza Hut.
All together, there are thousands of personnel here, military and civilian. There are a plethora of military vehicles, in both quantity and type, along with tons of civilian vehicles, mostly Toyota. No Japanese people, though.
The bases, collectively, encompass several square miles. It is a lot of space, a lot of people, and getting even bigger. There are all kinds of construction projects going on, and hopefully sooner than later, one of these projects will yield a better place for us to live. Or, we’ll get some heat, at the least.
All in all, life hasn’t been too bad the past few weeks. And by “not so bad,” I mean that it could always be worse. We live in large circus-style tents (cue Journey, again), that is full of bunk beds (aka racks) and lots and lots of gear everywhere. There are a 100-plus dudes staying in the tent. Everyone gets his own rack (top and bottom). Everyone pretty much sleeps on the bottom and stores gear on top. Then, you pretty much store gear under your rack, next to your rack, in front of your rack, and hanging from your rack. A rack around here pretty much looks like a booth at a Hong Kong flea market: it may look like a lot of shit, but every bit has a purpose and a place. But, with all this crap, there isn’t much room to move around.
For all of the schoolteachers reading this, it is now that you should begin feeling particularly proud of the job you have done with us all. Marines are some of the most creative humans on the planet, thanks to our wonderful teachers and their insistence to be creative. There are so many creative ways to set up one’s rack that I’ll have to write an entire journal entry dedicated only to the myriad of things you can do to metal bunk beds. There are Marines who have flat screen televisions hanging down, wired to their laptops that sit in a makeshift entertainment center. Towel racks, lighting systems, and storage areas – you name it! Remarkable. I don’t think even an architect could do such a job.
Fortunately, our tent is on the end. Nearest the pissers and shower. There’s a shipping container, or a ‘conex’, that has been converted into a bathroom. One long, silver, tin trough pisser, kinda like you get at a sports stadium. And there’s a handful of white, plastic toilets, where the flusher is at the foot of the bowl in the front. Now, this is a great concept. You’ve finished your business, set down your book or magazine, and while you are standing and pulling up your britches, you put your foot on the flusher. You are able to flush and put your pants back on in one, fluid action. Genius. Now, if we could just get the damn things to flush a bit better, we’d be making money. A plastic curtain hangs in front of each shitter. Hey – even Marines need a little privacy! Two sinks and a soap dispenser that never works. Simple, right. Not so fast. You still have to choose which crapper you want. This precarious decision is based on two things: what’s left in the plastic bowl when you get there, and how badly do you have to go. As you can imagine, two bad answers in this situation equals catastrophe. You better have something really good to read.
The showers are a different story. Enter into a tent, but not a large tent. More like a tent you might throw up at the last minute for a rainy wedding reception. Walk straight into the tent, through a short (4-5 feet) greeting foyer, and enter a very, very narrow lane. I use the word ‘lane’ purposefully, as you will soon find out. Did I mention this lane is narrow? Its about 12 feet long, but as you walk the distance, your shoulders rub against the curtains that separate you from other grown men showering. There are shower ‘stalls’ on both sides, so there’s no way to avoid the awkwardness of brushing against the curtain, and having it slide open ever so slowly, as if you were trying to seductively creep into the shower with someone. Make it to the end of the catwalk without having so say “what’s up – sorry,” and you have accomplished something. All this and I still haven’t mentioned the lousy water pressure and luke-warm water.
Nonetheless, the shitter trailer and the Swinging Richards shower scene do provide one bit of indulgence: heat. Both the trailer and the tent have an ample supply of heat. Not a night has gone by since I have been here, where I haven’t had to wake up in the middle of the night to take a leak, shivering as I crawl out of my sleeping bag and stumble to the urinal trough, and as I am peeing, think that maybe I should prop myself up on a crapper and fall back to sleep.
I think Journey and Faithfully has lost its luster now.
Now, please don’t get upset and think that how badly I must be doing with all this. I mean forget about that I am away from my amazing wife (who is pregnant) and Avery, the most incredible little girl ever, and the rest of my family (parent’s, brother’s, prego sister-n-law, etc). Forget that I nearly get frostbite every night just so that I can piss. Forget that taking a shower is a cross between American Psycho and American History X. It’s not all bad.
Chow. We eat great! There’s the main line that always has one or two meat options, several vegetables and a couple ‘accrutements’ (that’s what Lindsay likes to call side dishes). Then there is the sandwich line. You get to make your own sandwich, with fresh bread and cold cuts. The cool part is that once you’ve picked your meat(s), cheese(s) and toppings, there are two “melters” at the end. I doubt they are really called “melters,” I just can’t think of another word. But, its pretty much what you put your sandwich in to make it toasted. It’s a delicious means to enhance bread, turkey and cheese, I do say. There is still the “junk food” line, which is hamburgers, chili, fries, etc. Sometimes they’ll have ravioli, which is a fine accrutement to any meal. We get all the bevies (drinks) you can want. Coke and Pepsi products, Gatorade, water, various style milks (regular, nonfat, soy, strawberry, chocolate), coffee, hot tea, etc. Good so far, right.
One exception. The dessert bar. Stupid desserts!! Now, anyone that knows me will testify in court that I am crazy about desserts! So, in the middle of the chow hall (actually, it’s 3 large tents combined) is this dual-cart dessert spread. And there are always choices. So, since there is no way to avoid the cart as it sits in the middle of everything, you walk pass and are guaranteed to see something you’ll like. This is bad for me. Sometimes its cookies, sometimes pound cake. The last two days there has been a chocolate cheesecake, drizzled on top with chocolate magic shell. How do you expect to just walk by??? And, to make it even more insulting, they stick different types of fresh fruit on either side of the dessert spread. Assholes!!! It’s not enough that I feel like a shit bag for eating dessert on a daily basis (sometimes twice a day), but they stick fresh fruit right there to say “you’re too weak and feeble to choose body strengthening fruit over artery-clogging desserts.” Where’s the bathroom?
Alright, I guess this is a good place to pause. I’ve had a string of bad songs that are telling me to stop while I’m head. Plus, I gotta piss. Damn it all!
I hope you have enjoyed reading about some of my experiences. I know a lot of you will appreciate my honesty, color and candidness, but not everyone. In any event, next I plan to tell you more about the parts of Afghanistan I have seen and some of the things I have already experienced. Nothing kicks more ass than having your M4 in condition 1 (that’s “locked and loaded”), a 40mm grenade in your M203 (that’s the grenade launcher that is attached to my M4), mortar rounds falling around you, 2 Cobras overhead, and a Predator (UAV – unmanned aerial vehicle) farther overhead that drops a Hellfire missile on the assholes launching the mortars at you.
I hope everyone is well. Ohh – if you have any specific questions then feel free to send them to me. See you soon.

GATE 2 STREET
Hey everybody! I hope all is well in the “States.” I wanted to write and give you a quick update on what’s been happening so far. Truthfully, not much; but, nonetheless, I tell you a few quick stories. Just for a reference, Okinawa is 14 hours ahead of Atlanta. So, it is currently about 7 AM on Monday morning, November 16th, and I am watching the Cowboys/Packers game – live.
The travel here was long and grueling. It was a 14-hour flight from DC to Tokyo. We flew ANA, which is simply a Japanese commercial airliner. The flight was full and we were crammed into seats with Marines and civilians alike. Fortunately, the plane was a new Boeing 777, which means every seat had its on TV screen, and we had access to a plethora of movies, TV shows, music, etc. If you haven’t seen the movie “500 (Days of Summer),” then I recommend you watching it. Sounds like a pretty good soundtrack, too.
The first thing I noticed was when we checked into the flight at the ANA counter in DC. There were a dozen or so women, and one or two men. Now, two things are interesting to note here. First, the women were doing all the work. The men were pretty much watching and taking instruction from the women. And, when it came time to lift or move a heavy bag, the women worked together to do it. They didn’t need help from a man. Impressive. The second thing I noticed was the large number of personnel working behind the counter. Every counter had one or two people there. Every counter was being utilized. Not sure about any of you, but whenever I go to the grocery store, Target or any place where I have to ‘check out,’ there always seems to be only one or two check out lanes open. Mind you, they have an abundance of check out lanes to use, but only one or two are open. So, of course, you get long lines at the one or two counters that are open, and rarely does the establishment open any additional check out lanes to ease the flow. Not the case here. Every counter was open and adequately supplied with staff.
Next, we bordered the plane. The first thing I noticed was their clothing. These had to be the most formal flight attendant outfits ever. A contemporary, business dress or suit, one of those handkerchief/scarf-thingies tied around their neck. Ladies, I don’t know what this is called, but you do, so work with me here. Their makeup, though it looked like they may have all used paintbrushes, was impeccable the entire 14-hour flight. Smiles. They were ALWAYS smiling. Asian cultures have some of the most incredible work ethics I have ever seen. They were always working. They perform their job functions and responsibilities superbly. Now, I’m not naïve. Chances are, they may all hate their jobs. But, you would have never, ever known they were aggravated or annoyed. If you needed something - you got it. Quickly, and with a smile.
So, we arrive in Tokyo, and then connect on another flight to Okinawa. The worst part of the trip was after the 24+ hours of travel, we arrived in Okinawa, loaded our bags into two small box trucks, then the Marines got onto a bus for the 90-minute trip to Camp Schwab. Not even 30 seconds into the trip, we haven’t gotten out of the airport area, the bus we are on slams into the back of one of the box trucks carrying our bags. We had to sit there for over 3 hours waiting for the situation to get sorted out, and for another bus to arrive that would take us to Okinawa.
While we have been in Okinawa we have been staying on Camp Schwab. Camp Schwab is one of several Marine Corps bases on Okinawa, and one of several US bases on Okinawa. Pretty much every service has some sort of facility here. CS is the smallest of the Marine Corps bases, and in some ways it reminds me of a college campus. Our lodging is much like a college dormitory: Two Marines to a room with your own bathroom, a desk, etc. It is fairly quiet on this base, and with weather and scenery much like that of Hawaii, it’s not a bad place to be. We haven’t done too much the last few days; just a couple of chores to get ready for our departure and that is it. We have a midnight curfew every day, and getting into town is a pain, as we do not have a car.
Nonetheless, a few of us headed out for most of the day Saturday to “take in the sights.” In order to do so, we had to first take about an hour bus ride, then a 10-minute taxi ride to an area called American Town. I’m not sure why it’s called American Town, I’m guessing just because there was some sort of mall, along with other street shopping, restaurants, etc. We quickly made our way to a local watering hole where we could partake in the local flavors – noodle dishes and cold beer. Both were delicious. The “mall” where we first stopped was similar to an American mall. You know, multi-level, lots of stores, a few places to eat, etc. For the most part, everything is just on a smaller scale – smaller building, smaller stores, smaller tables and chairs, etc. Everything is pretty much made for a Smurf.
After eating we meandered through the streets, take a look at a few shops here and there. Again, you’re not missing much. Obviously, I’m setting you up for a rapid change in the story.
There is an area of Okinawa called Gate 2 Street. It’s called Gate 2 Street because it is an area that sits just outside Gate 2 of the Air Force’s Kadena Air Base. Well, we must have been told numerous times by numerous different people to not go to Gate 2 Street. Apparently, its where a lot fights break out, and where locals typically prey upon Americans. Say no more. Taxi!!!
If you have ever been to Tijuana, then you know where this headed. If not, Gate 2 Street area is easy to describe. One long street of shops, bars, restaurants, and other ‘suspect’ establishments. A myriad of side streets and alleys cris-cross Gate 2 Street, with more of the same places to visit. Lots of neon, low hanging signs, and plotted trees filled the sidewalks. If you are looking for shopping deals, then this is a great place to shop. We, as you can imagine, were not interested in shopping.
We started looking around for places to go, careful to avoid any “yut, yut" bars.[Side note: A “yut, yut” is usually a young, immature Marine. Their ever-present high-and-tight haircuts, horrendous clothing and sense of style, and generally poor social skills characterize a “Yut-Yut”. They can often be seen walking around town carrying a Marine Corps-issued digital camouflage backpack. Yut-Yuts are the exact reason the Marine Corps has requirements for civilian attire.]
Fortunately there were five of us, and one friend, Tim, had once been stationed in Okinawa while on active duty a few years ago. So, he knew the area.
Karaoke. The five of us walked into a tiny little restaurant, sat down at the Smurf-sized bar stools, and asked for the catalogue. The Japanese woman who owned the restaurant knew how to deal with two things in broken English: money, and Bon Jovi. We went through most songs in the Bon Jovi catalogue, a few Pearl Jam songs, “More Than Words” by Extreme (a classic!), and of course, Billy Joel’s “Piano Man.” Yes, I have pictures and video.
Ok. Time to move on. This has been a fun afternoon already.
Now, before I get too deep into the details, there are a few caveats.
We were there in the afternoon, and we were gone by 9 PM.
We did not go to any of the places I am going to tell you about.
The first stop we made was at a tiny, “café.” This café served beer, and Habu Sake. We all know what Sake is, that’s nothing special. Habu Sake is named after the Habu Snake. A rather large, menacing, unfriendly snake, resembling something like a Cobra. Well, kind of like a worm in a tequila bottle, this Sake is stored in a giant Mason jar, with a very large Habu Snake coiled up in the bottom. From what our friend and guide told us, taking a shot of Habu Sake is kind of a rite of passage on the island. Again, this is obvious foreshadowing.
Absolutely disgusting. And the taste is not easily washed away or replaced. Okinawa: 1. Jason: 0.
In honesty, this was a neat little place. I actually bought a t-shirt from this joint for my Dad.
While we were clinching our jaws from the heinous taste of Habu Sake, Tim began to tell us about some of the places that were all around us. Again, we never went to any of these places. They were closed and didn’t open until later in the night.
“Drinky” Bar – an establishment that has a lot of Philipino women who are known to ‘hang out.’ I guess they approach you, saying “drinky, drinky.” And the jist of it is that you buy them a few drinks, and other things begin to follow. Figure it out.
“Soapie” Bar – this sounded like it would be more like what we know as “massage parlor.” In a ‘soapie bar,’ you pay a certain amount of money to take a bath. What you are paying for, though, is to be accompanied in this bathtub. Picture the scene in “Coming to America,” where Eddie Murphy is in the bathtub with several beautiful servants, when one breaks the surface of the water, stating “the royal penis is clean, your heiness.”
[Side note: After hearing the above two stories, I wasn’t sure whether to believe Tim. I mean, c’mon, right. So, I asked our Japanese bartender, who spoke less than broken English, whether what I was hearing was true. Upon asking him about a “drinky bar” and a “soapie bar,” he didn’t really have any idea what I was saying. But, he had no problem with a language barrier when I mentioned “banana show.” He immediately pointed us in the right direction.]
Banana Show – Simply, the banana show involves a 90+-year-old woman, bananas and vagina. As if that wasn’t enough to make you sick, the banana show ends with someone eating the banana.
Whisper Alley – this is a side street that apparently is full of prostitution. Because prostitution is not ‘legal,’ the women stand in their doorways, and whisper to passer-bys as their means of solicitation. My friend did say that Whisper Alley is actually very, very creepy. Uhh, really?
Like I said, we did not witness anything above, but this is Gate 2 Street.
Finally, the last place we visited, which I am happy to talk to you about, was a place called Mike’s Beer Garden. Mike is an American who spent several years in the Marine Corps, stationed in Okinawa. Mike married a local woman, and upon his discharge from the Marine Corps, has been living in Okinawa for years. Mike recently opened a really cool joint that serves beer and food. It’s an open-air place with no roof. It is located on top of a rooftop (hence, no roof), where Christmas tree lights cris-cross over your head, and tiki torches sit atop the wall around you. Plastic chairs and tables, and a classic American menu of burgers, grilled cheese sandwiches and French fries. I’m serious; Mike’s Beer Garden is must-see. Here’s his address:
www.mikesbg1@yahoo.comMike’s Beer Garden1-24-13 4F Chuo-Okinawa City(corner of BC Street & Park Avenue)
That’s kind it. Like I said, nothing too much to report. We were originally supposed to fly out tonight (Monday), but we have been pushed back to Tuesday morning. From here we’ll fly to Uzbekistan for +/- a day. Uzbekistan is to Afghanistan like Kuwait is to Iraq. It’s pretty much where everyone goes and waits his or her turn to fly “in country.” You could be there hours, a day or longer. Waiting.