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.