For Make Glorious Benefit Of Afghanistan (tm. K-Lamb)
[Note: This was my sister’s awesome idea for a subject title. If you would like to participate, all entries will be considered, and I will give proper credit.]
Welcome to glorious AFGHANISTAN! Finally! It only took 56 days for me to get here by way of South Carolina, Georgia Part I and II (and as is the way with sequels, the first part was much better) to Germany, to Kuwait, and to WAR! I mean, Afghanistan. Apparently this country is mostly made up of mountains, mines, and puddles.
The first interesting thing we learned is that it is a 9.5 hour difference from the East Coast. Why is it an extra ½ hour? Who knows? If anyone has a good theory, let me know. Jokes will also be accepted. 
Actually, it is pretty darned cold here. Maybe you think to yourself, going to war in the Mid-east, that it is just going to be hot and hotter all day and all night, but it is snowy mountains and cold winds here. We are almost as high up as Denver (but not quite, so no mile-high club for the couples here) and you know how the weather is THERE this year. Actually, speaking of that club, General Order #1, of the main set of rules they have for us here, is "No alcohol, and no sexual relations with someone not your spouse." I would think that is two rules, but apparently they think that drinking and sex are somehow related.
So, we got a tour of Bagram Air Force Base when we got off the plane and got our bags. It is two stop sign town, made up of basically an airstrip, and one main street which is actually named Disney. We were all like, awww, that is a cute little ironic name. Then we found out it was named after a soldier, Jason Disney who was killed here in 2003. This was the wakeup call that this is not the Happiest Place on Earth.
Next we went to our housing to drop our stuff. Mind you, during our tour, we were told that “larceny is on the uprise [sic], so secure your stuff.” Not long after this, we were shown to the plywood hut that would be our home.
Bunk beds, and more bunk beds, with about a shoulders-width in between them. Insulation? Nooooo. Heater that worked? Nooooo. Locker to put our apparently vulnerable stuff in? Double nooooo! Well, at least we were near our bathrooms and showers. Only a quick 100 paces there and back. The way back after the shower is what gets ya though.
Another thing we learned in one of the million in-briefs we got is that Priority Mail does not mean a thing and if you are getting something sent to you, regular mail is just as good unless you need a box.
Here is why my job is awesome. My commander’s name? Richard Dix. No, that is not a joke, my boss is Dick Dix. You almost expect bow-chicka-bow-bow-bow music to start up from somewhere. Also, our motto is:
I tried telling him that I do NOT love it, nor do I want to be here, but he threatened to put me on a convoy to Iraq, so I hushed up. But this meant I failed in telling him what I thought, but failure is not an option. This confused me. Then I quietly sat in the corner for a while and I felt better.
Oh, it all sounds so terrible! Is Pat going to make it? Tune in next time…. (um, yeah, I totally get by… with a little help from my friends…Oh-woah, gonna try, with… OK, I will stop.)
