Sunday, December 14, 2003

18:00 – Baghdad. The hooch is a vast improvement over the six man closet, which was a vast improvement over the north hallway. Even for a trailer, it’s not that bad. One caveat, my only prior experience living in a trailer was the two years that I spent residing in “Miss Liberty” on Lincoln Swing in West Ames. If I had to rank that particular college housing experience, I’d put it somewhere between north hallway and sleeping in the dirt at BIAP, only more dirty.

The new digs are spanking new. I’d almost written “sparkling”, but nothing stays clean here for any measurable length of time. New they are and already broken. Cheap they are, too.

Each unit is “I” shaped or “H” shaped, depending on your point of view. For the sake of discussion, let’s just agree right now that they’re “I” shaped. OK, they’re really “H” shaped, and each leg and cross member is about eight feet wide. Planted in an open field near the palace by the score, they read like an asthmatic climbing stairs. Approach from the side, and it’s Pancho Villa’s war cry.

It’s a brisk ten minute walk from door to door. From the office at the south end of the palace, walk the entire length of said palace, past the Marine checkpoint, weave through the concertina wire, down one of the aisles of the 500 Man Camp, and turn right into the 266 Man Extension to the 500 Man Camp. We’re the second to last unit meaning, “one more trailer and we’d be further from the palace than anyone”.

To each side of the trailer are the sleeping quarters, less than 200 square feet a piece, housing two men each. Each resident gets a bed, metal wardrobe, and metal end table. The center piece is about eight feet square, with a tiny one holed bathroom and connecting hallway. The bathroom leaks from every direction, but it does have hot water, and by “hot” I mean “could sear the hair off a pig carcass” – from zero to steam bath in five seconds. The interior finish is all attractive metal, so I bought some Iraqi modern art to hang on the walls and soften it up a bit. In all, it’s a fully adequate place to store my hat until spring.

Honest, compared to the other crap that surrounds me here, it’s really nice for the most part, but has troubles beyond the leaks in the loo. The wall mounted heater has a broken thermostat. The front door creaks. My bedroom door doesn’t latch. The roof isn’t bulletproof.

… because the roof is made of thin sheet metal, and it will do little to stop the hundreds of thousands of bullets which are filling the skies as I write. Saddam, as it turns out, was captured crawling on his belly in a hole of his own digging yesterday. As soon as the news broke, out came the automatic weapons and the celebrations started. We have GOT to start doing this in the States. Birthdays (blam, blam, blam). Bat Mitzvas (Kapow!). Arbor Day (budda budda). Easter (pop, pop, pop, pop).

Anyway, we’ve been instructed to stay under hard cover tonight. Well and good, as there’s a big deadline tonight, and I may have to work through it to make it. So, I’m stuck in the office all night,… but you’re free to move around.

So what are you waiting for?

This is a historic night!

Grab your guns and head to the porch. Ram a magazine home and pop off a few rounds for freedom.