Monday, October 13, 2003

21:30 – Kuwait City. Crying baby. Crying baby. Crying baby. Crying baby the entire ride to Kuwait. Maybe an hour of sleep and Kangaroo Jack to keep my increasingly addled mind amused. Not too long, overall, and a smooth and eventual landing in the Middle East.

Holy Fuck, the Middle East.

There was a nice crowd pressing against the visa counter at immigration, where we eventually received our multiple entrance stickies placed on the backs of our CAC cards. Along one of the long walls of this hall was a line of women, apparently Indian nationals, come to work for the Kuwaitis. The Kuwaitis don’t seem to work. Like good capitalists, they own all the capital, and hire foreigners to do all the work.

Customs was a matter of a quick x-ray and a $2.00 tip to the porter who guided my bags through the device. We stood outside the airport Starbucks, chatting with a procurement specialist from the DoD, and waited for transportation by KBR to the Hilton, where we were assigned rooms, and found some chow. Sleep would be nice, if and when it comes.

Monday morning, blazing heat, humidity up and sweat on sheets. Country briefing by a Colonel and KBR flunky, then records review by their corpsmen, and issuance of my Army boots, Army belt, Army canteen, Army sleeping pad, Army pants, Army jacket, Army hat (all in desert camouflage), Army helmet, Army flak vest, and Army gas mask, all crammed into my new Army duffle bag. I think I get to keep the clothes, but the helmet, gas mask, and flak vest get returned when I redeploy stateside.

I went for a swim in a spare hour before lunch. The sea’s saltier than the Caribbean, about as calm, but was covered with specks of black ash, no doubt a by-product of the petrochemical industrial actions nearby. In fact, there are oil terminals visible to each side of the Hilton’s beach.

Our country clearance is late, and we can’t catch the plane to Baghdad without it, so we may stick around here for a few more days than originally anticipated. If so, I’ve arranged to go on a couple of wreck dives. Why not? I’m here. There’s not much to do.

Not entirely nothing. We’re meeting a Kuwait-based Company Wife for lunch tomorrow, then last minute and gold shopping in the city center. Watch a western or three tonight on TCM, maybe some fashion channel, and sleep tomorrow until I’m tired of sleeping.